Galactica 1984: Remembrance Of Things Past
by Eric J. Paddon
Chapter One
God, how I hate this place.
Dr. Edom, chief of operations for Hospital Ship #2, looked about the
dimly lit room that constituted his main office, and noted that he'd
probably expressed that sentiment more than a thousand times in the last
ten yahrens, ever since he'd been assigned to work here.
The lighting was always kept at least three levels darker than normal.
The old manuals said something about how brightness was never good for
any of the patients. Keeping things dark was said to have a more
subduing effect on the mind.
As if with these patients, there wasn't much else left that could have
any affect on any of their minds.
Hospital Ship #2 was known derisively throughout the Fleet as the
"Nuthouse" because it was the place where those considered mentally ill
and beyond all hope of recovery were housed. In the ten yahrens that
Edom had worked here, that reputation had only been enhanced. He had yet
to see a single patient recover sufficiently to be transferred back to
the main Hospital Ship. The only time any patient ever left was when the
physical functions of the body finally caught up with the state of the
mental functions.
Depressing, but not surprising though. All detailed studies of
psychiatric medicine had been irretrievably lost in the Holocaust of the
Colonies thirty yahrens ago, and not one of the original 7000 survivors
who had fled aboard the Galactica and the 220 ships of the Fleet had any
sufficient training in the field that would have enabled that knowledge
to be relearned and preserved for future generations. Fragmentary copies
of some old medical texts had been the only guide in all the yahrens
since and it was obvious that they were woefully inadequate.
It was only because of the desperate need for new medical personnel to
attend to the needs of the patients that Edom had agreed to the
assignment here after graduating from the Medical Education Program. He
had stayed on, only because his constant exposure to those who had lost
all contacts with reality was too painful a sight for him to ever turn
his back on.
Because of that bond he felt with his patients, he had made a point of
learning all that he could about them. Of the twenty-three, he had come
to know all the personal intimate details about twenty-two of them.
Reading their personal files, interviewing family and friends, and doing
any other kind of investigating that might offer the faintest of hope
helping them.
There was one patient though, about whom he knew next to nothing. The
quiet, perpetually silent woman known to him as Rayena. The only thing
the file he had on her was a name, age, place of birth, and a general
time on when her breakdown had happened. Beyond that, nothing.
Whenever Edom's duties required him to attend to Rayena, he'd always
known that there was never any danger of her turning violent, and yet
there was something about her that evoked more discomfort in him than any
other patient, even those who tended to shout, scream and move about
their cells like caged animals. As quiet as Rayena was, there was an
expression of perpetual fear and terror on her face that always made his
blood run cold. As if she had been exposed to something hideous beyond
belief at one time.
And what made it more unnerving was how little he knew about her. All
attempts to track her down in the Galactica computer had turned up
nothing. Yet for some reason, the Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Cassiopeia
seemed to know a great deal about her. She was known to visit her on
irregular occasions, the most recent coming just several centars ago, and
she had admitted that Rayena had been a friend of hers who had once lost
two people she'd loved a great deal.
Cassiopeia had promised to add more details to Rayena's spartan file,
but it occurred to Edom that he'd heard similar promises from her before
over the last ten yahrens, before it was quietly forgotten. The last one
was probably as empty as those had been.
The doors to his office opened and he saw Corporal Mackey of the
security unit enter. Prudence dictated that Hospital Ship #2 have more
than the normal detachment in case something ever went awry with any of
the patients.
"Doctor," Mackey said, "There's a VIP shuttle from the Galactica that
will be arriving in a few centons."
"VIP?" Edom frowned and came forward in his chair, "Who?"
"They didn't specify."
"Well isn't that the damnedest thing," the operations chief rose, "I
didn't think anyone who classified as a VIP would ever be caught dead
here."
Edom followed the guard down the corridor to the docking bay and stood
at attention as he heard the pop of air pressure on the other side, and
saw the door open.
He was surprised to see Cassiopeia emerge first. She had been aboard
the ship only centars ago, and it was not like her to come back again so
soon.
Before he could say anything, the other two passengers emerged, and
the operation chief's jaw fell open in amazement.
"Dr. Edom," Adama came up to him and shook hands, "It's an honor to
meet you. Cassiopeia's told me you've done a fine job here."
"The pleasure's all mine, Commander," Edom's eyes glanced past
Cassiopeia to the third passenger, "And Commander Cain, it's an even
greater honor to meet you in person."
The Juggernaut didn't offer his hand. His expression was cold and
decidedly unfriendly. The frozen stare was enough to cause Edom to flush
slightly in embarrassment.
"Dr. Edom," Cassiopeia said awkwardly, "I owe you an apology. The
reason we're here is because of Rayena."
"Rayena?" Edom frowned, "Why?"
"That's not her name," Cain suddenly spoke in a harsh, angry tone and
gritted his teeth.
"Cain, please. Don't take your anger out on him," Adama held up a
hand, "Dr. Edom, if you'd please take us to her room, we'd appreciate
it."
"Yes sir," the operation chief nodded.
There was a cold, awkward silence as Edom led the three of them down
the corridor, into the office area, and then down the compartment where
all the patients were kept.
As they came down the corridor, the moaning sounds of some of the
other patients who's sanity had been long gone could be heard through the
doors.
"My God, what kind of a horrible place is this?" Cain broke the
silence with a horrified, angry whisper as his eyes darted about the
corridor.
Adama turned back to his friend with a placid expression, "A place
where people like them can be cared for, Cain. You'd be surprised at how
many people I've had to override who think every patient on this ship
should be put to death in the interests of economizing our resources."
Cain said nothing, but the heaviness of his breathing indicated the
anger that had been raging inside him ever since Adama had notified him
one centar earlier to tell him the horrible truth. At the time, Cain had
come to the conclusion that with nothing else in the Fleet for him to
care about, and with direct engagement with the Cylons impossible as a
result of the discovery of Earth, appropriating the concept of travelling
into Earth's past as a means of increasing her strength was the only
thing left for him to do. In a desperate effort to stop Cain from
resorting to that dangerous scheme, Adama had finally decided to stop
lying to the Juggernaut about what had happened to his daughter Sheba.
Initially, he had told Cain that Sheba had been killed sixteen yahrens
ago in battle. But circumstances had now forced Adama to tell a truth
that he had kept secret from all but a handful for sixteen yahrens. That
Sheba was in fact alive, and had suffered a mental breakdown sixteen
yahrens earlier on a mission that had also resulted in Apollo's
disappearance and death.
Edom activated the switch and the door slid open, "This is it. Notify
me when you're finished."
"We will," Adama said, "And in the meantime, Doctor, please keep the
details of our visit confidential."
"Yes sir," Edom nodded and walked away, still trying to come to turns
with this strange new twist in the life of the one patient who'd always
been an enigma to him.
The Pegasus commander entered first and looked around the dimly lit,
padded room with horror. And then his eyes locked on to the bed at one
side of the room, where a lone figure in a simple white garment lay with
many tubes attached to her body.
"Oh my God," he whispered as he slowly stepped toward her.
Behind him, both Adama and Cassiopeia had deeply pained expressions.
The Chief Medical Officer almost felt like crying at seeing a man of such
unshakable calm and pride like Cain be subjected to something like this.
But as she'd pointedly told Adama earlier though, there had been no
other choice. The lying had to stop. It was time to get to the truth in
a terrible remembrance of things past.
Cain hunched over the bedside and looked into the face of his only
child, whom he had not seen for more than thirty yahrens. When he'd last
held her hand, she'd been on a stretcher then, suffering from battle
injuries at Gomorrah and about to be transferred to the Galactica. He'd
never forgotten the frightened look of pleading on her face, begging for
him not to let her be separated from him.
In all that time since, Cain had been obsessed with the thought of
seeing her again before his death. But nothing had prepared him for the
thought of seeing his only child again under these circumstances.
The face was only superficially familiar after all these yahrens.
What horrified Cain the most was how it seemed drawn in an expression of
perpetual, tight-lipped fear and terror.
"Baby," he whispered and took Sheba's hand, "Baby it's me, your
father. I've finally come back."
There was no response from Sheba. As had been the case for sixteen
yahrens, she had not uttered a sound since the day of her commitment.
"Baby," Cain reached down and tilted his daughter's face so that her
vacant brown eyes were looking at him, "Do you recognize me? I'm really
alive."
For just one brief instant, Cain thought he saw something in the eyes.
A brief flash of recognition? A sign that his words had been understood?
It briefly passed though, and Cain decided that he didn't have the
stomach to press any further right now. Cassiopeia and Adama had
prepared him for this in the initial conversation and in the shuttle ride
over, and he'd have to patiently dig his heels in, if anything further
was to be done.
"All right Adama," the Juggernaut calmly let go of his daughter's hand
and straightened himself, "I want you to keep the rest of your word.
Tell me exactly what happened to her. Tell me everything about that
mission you said she and Apollo went on."
Adama slowly exhaled and closed his eyes. Talking about this incident
in such detail for the first time was going to be just as painful for him
as it would be for Cain.
"Do you want me to tell it, Commander?" Cassiopeia looked up with
concern.
"No," Adama shook his head, "I'm the one who must do it."
Cain turned around to face his fellow commander, and folded his arms.
"It goes back to a time in our journey when we had successfully eluded
Cylon pursuit for the better part of five yahrens," Adama began, "A sense
of stability had come to the Fleet, a general feeling that the worst
danger had passed us forever, and that all that remained was eventually
finding Earth...."
Flashback-Sixteen Yahrens Earlier
The celestial dome on top of the Galactica's main thrusters was
perhaps the battlestar's most anachronistic feature. When the great
warship had been launched 500 yahrens ago, there had been many such
domes, designed as auxiliary posts to take star navigation readings.
Over time though, as new computer scan technology was developed, the need
for the celestial domes disappeared completely. By the time of the
Holocaust, all of the domes had been dismantled, except for the one at
the rear of the ship.
Idle for the better part of a hundred yahrens, the last celestial
dome, with its breathtaking, unobstructed view of the stars, had come
back to life in the last fifteen yahrens as a result of some renovation
work Apollo had put into it. Initially, the Commander's son had found
coming to the dome as a place to relax, and dream of how much simpler and
exciting life had been for the early star explorers hundreds of yahrens
ago.
Later though, he'd found that the isolation and privacy offered by the
celestial dome offered other advantages. And on this particular night,
he had not come simply to dream about life in the past, or to monitor the
outdated gamma frequency channel for any signs of signals from the planet
called Earth that they were seeking.
Tonight, he had come here for a reason that was far more personal, and
perhaps the most important one of his life.
"Riding in the hand of God," Sheba said aloud with a faint air of
reverent awe, as she nestled herself next to Apollo on the oversized
cushioned bench at the front end of the dome, "Wasn't that how you
described it, the first time you took me up here fourteen yahrens ago?"
"Yeah," Apollo smiled as he kept looking ahead.
"I'll never forget that," Sheba sighed, "That was just before we came
across that single baseship, and then for the first time, I summoned the
nerve to make a pass at you when you were planning the infiltration
mission."
He turned away from the starfield and looked into her radiantly
beautiful face.
"Which marked the start of the unorthodox relationship we've been
having ever since," there was an edge of regret in his voice, "Fourteen
yahrens of on-again, off-again dating, seeing each other, revealing our
true feelings for each other, but always stopping short of total
commitment."
She noticed that edge of regret in his voice and gently placed a hand
on his cheek, "Apollo, don't feel sorry. We're not the only people in
love who've been forced into that position. Look at Starbuck and
Cassiopeia, or Boomer and Dietra. How long have they been in that same
kind of unorthodox relationship that we've had?"
Apollo let out a sigh and lowered his head, "Sheba," he said, "I can't
fall back on that excuse. I've...let myself be haunted too much by the
past to keep me from doing what I should have done a long time ago."
Inside, Sheba felt her heart suddenly skip a beat.
"I only put Serina out of my mind to a point where I could have no
guilt over starting a relationship with you," he went on, "But when it
came to carrying that relationship further, I'm afraid I kept holding on
to it. I've...always had this fear that if I asked you to marry me, I'd
suddenly start making too many demands of you."
"Like giving up active duty," she smiled in empathy.
"Yeah," he nodded, "And God knows that's not something a warrior with
your skills and desire would ever want to do."
"I admit that."
"Plus, I was also worried that Boxey wouldn't accept it."
Sheba let out a light chuckle, "You mean Troy?"
Apollo shook his head and let out a disapproving grunt, "Youthful
rebelliousness, I was prepared for. Seeing him change his name wasn't
included in that."
"Not that he picked a bad name," Sheba patted his arm, "If I remember
right, the very first commander of the Galactica was named Troy."
"He could have picked my name, and it would have still bothered me,"
Apollo sighed, "I'm glad to see him put all his effort into becoming a
good warrior, but he's been more rebellious than I ever imagined.
Starbuck tells me that he's had to give him and Cadet Dillon about a
dozen demerits already for curfew violations."
"As though you and Starbuck were such good obedient followers of
curfew, yourselves." she gently teased.
He looked back at Sheba and laughed, "Okay, maybe you're right. But
anyway, I've kind of realized that I may have miscalculated as far as
Boxey's reaction would have been. And now that he's on his own, it
wouldn't be that much of a problem anyway."
Sheba looked into his eyes for a long minute trying to keep herself
from trembling. For fourteen yahrens she'd dreamed of this moment
happening, and it was finally coming true.
"What about the active duty problem?" she barely kept her voice
controlled, "I'm not resigning at anytime for any reason, Apollo."
"I don't want you to," Apollo put his arms around her, "If I can go on
being a warrior willing to put my life on the line and make you worry for
my safety, I have no right to ask you not to do likewise, especially when
you're one of the best we have. Besides," he then smiled, "We're not
exactly a hunted people anymore. It's been five yahrens since the last
Cylon crossed out paths."
She relaxed in his tender hold and then asked with a slight,
mischievous edge, "So do you have a question you'd like to ask me?"
Apollo let out another light chuckle, "Sheba, will you marry me?"
Without saying a word, she instinctively kissed him passionately on
the lips.
Apollo felt himself gasping for air when she released him and then
looked up with a wry expression, "So does that mean yes?"
"You'd better believe it," Sheba said firmly.
No more words were said as they took advantage of the celestial dome's
isolation from the rest of the Fleet.
For the next several sectans, as preparations for the wedding were
made, the atmosphere of tranquil calm that had existed throughout the
Fleet for the better part of five yahrens only seemed to increase.
Starbuck and Boomer began organizing a bachelor party for Apollo, and
those preparations included the two of them trying to offer subtle bribes
to the Rising Star's bartender for some of the choicer selections of
ambrosia that were available.
Always anxious to seize upon a good story, the sensationalist
reporters of the IFB, especially lead anchorwoman Zara, had turned the
pending Apollo-Sheba nuptials into the big social event of the last ten
yahrens. Night after night, each IFB newscast tried to find some kind of
new angle feature story on the event, much to the distaste of the two
principals and all their friends.
But one sectan before the event would take place, events would take a
drastically different turn. And from then on, the lives of everyone
connected with the pending wedding would be irrevocably altered.
"Commander," Colonel Tigh seemed extremely ill-at-ease as he mounted
the steps to the upper deck of the bridge where Adama was waiting, "We're
getting some disturbing reports from Silver Spar patrol. All scanner
sweeps ahead of us have turned up nothing definite, but they say they
detected clear traces of multiple ion exhaust trails right here."
The executive officer pointed to the navigation board, indicating a
solar system of three planets that lay ahead of the Galactica.
Adama kept his expression neutral, "Did they scan for further
identification of the ion composition?"
"They did," Tigh nodded, "The results were inconclusive. Fragmentary
readings did match the known composition of fuel used by Cylon baseships,
but the trails had dissipated too much to confirm that."
The commander lowered his head and shook his head, "Too disquieting to
ignore, but too insufficient to merit a full-scale alert."
"Exactly."
Adama turned and looked at the board again, "I wouldn't dare risk
probing that solar system with another patrol. If there are Cylons
waiting in that sector, there's only one way of investigating safely."
A centar later, a slightly nervous Apollo found himself pressing the
chime to the room on the far side of the Galactica where he and Sheba had
picked out their private quarters for after the marriage ceremony. He'd
known she was going to be here making preparations.
"Sheba?"
He could hear a rustling from the other side.
"Sheba?"
"Frack Apollo, you've got rotten timing," he heard her voice, "I'm
trying on my sealing gown."
Her fiancee dimly shook his head and tried not to smile, "Sheba, I'm
sorry. I know there's an old taboo about that, but this is too
important."
"Give it to me from where you are."
Apollo leaned his elbow against the door and took a breath, "Sheba,
Starbuck and I are taking Baltar's old Cylon fighter out of storage for a
mission. We're leaving in half a centar."
He started counting the seconds as soon as he'd finished. At three,
the door slid open and a concerned Sheba stood in the doorway.
"Looks nice," he took a brief admiring look at the white sealing gown
she was wearing, "Caprican silk?"
"Just what are you talking about?" she ignored his comment, "Have we
run across a baseship?"
"We don't know right now," Apollo said, "The data's too inconclusive.
As a precaution, the Commander wants to send the Cylon fighter out to
probe the region. If we run into a Cylon patrol, then we won't be
exposing ourselves."
"You and Starbuck," her expression was dubious.
"Well, he and I have experience at this."
"Apollo," Sheba suddenly put her arms around him, "If you have to go
on a mission like that, then let me come with you."
He was caught off guard by her comment, "What'd you say?"
"You heard me," there was a note of pleading in her voice, "I won't
try to talk you out of doing what you think you have to do, but let me
take Starbuck's place."
"Now wait a micron, Sheba...."
"No, you wait a micron," Sheba interrupted, "We're less than a sectan
from getting sealed to each other, and the last thing I want to do is sit
here waiting for you to come back from a hazardous mission."
"Sheba, you don't need to worry--"
"You and I made a pledge to each other that there was only one way we
could get sealed and still feel comfortable about staying on active
duty," she went on, "That was for us to work together. So both of us
could do our jobs without the pressure of wondering what's happening with
the other."
"On viper patrols and planet surveys yes," he nodded, "This is
different. Starbuck and I are the only ones who've done this sort of
thing before."
"It seems to me that only one person would need prior experience for
something like this," she softly retorted, "Unless of course, you have no
faith in your own ability to tell me what needs to be done as far as
flying a Cylon fighter goes."
The last remark suddenly stopped him cold.
"Yes," Sheba's tone abruptly shifted to one of sensuous warmth as she
smiled coyly and pulled him closer to her, "Am I marrying a man with a
perpetual inferiority complex?"
Apollo shook his head and started to chuckle, "Okay, you little
socialator you," he gently kissed her, "You've made your point. Now slip
out of that beautiful gown you're wearing and meet me in Alpha Bay."
"'By your command,'" she mimicked the solemn tones of a Cylon
centurion and then closed the door.
Not much later, the two of them had entered the launch bay where the
captured Cylon fighter had been moved into position. Starbuck and Boomer
were already there.
"Change of plans, Starbuck," Apollo said curtly, "Sheba's doing the
probe with me."
The blonde lieutenant's eyes widened in amusement, "Not that I'm going
to complain about that, Captain, but ah...that sort of looks kind of...."
"Yes, Starbuck?" there was a wry smile on both Apollo's and Sheba's
expressions.
"Never mind," he finally shook his head, "Anything I say further would
only be in the worst possible taste."
"The Starbuck I used to know never let bad taste stop him from saying
what he thought," Apollo nudged his friend on the shoulder.
"Yeah, well...people change." In Starbuck's case, that was especially
true since he couldn't have held on to Cassiopeia for all these yahrens
without mellowing a bit. But Apollo sensed that there was a double-edge
to his friend's comment that related to the pending nuptials between
himself and Sheba. Just like before Apollo's first marriage to Serina,
there was a part of Starbuck that seemed to be jealous of his long-time
friend getting married. Not because he had any negative feelings about
Sheba, but because seeing his best friend get married only reminded him
of the guilt and waste he felt over his earlier ways with women, as well
as his neverending reluctance to finally ask Cassiopeia to marry him.
"How's the ship check out?" Sheba looked over at the sleek, Cylon
fighter.
"She's all set," Boomer said, "And just in case you lose the
recognition signal transmitter again, I had a backup built into the
console. You won't have to waggle your wings this time."
"Thanks Boomer," Apollo said as he motioned Sheba to go up the ramp
first, "But we probably won't be needing it anyway."
"Good luck," Boomer turned and exited the launch bay.
Slowly, Apollo began following Sheba in.
"Apollo," Starbuck spoke up, causing his friend to stop.
"Yeah Starbuck?"
The blonde lieutenant sucked in his breath, "Look...um Apollo, I was
just thinking. Maybe I should find someone else and pull this patrol
myself."
"Starbuck," he put his hand on his shoulder, "I appreciate that, but
it's okay. I think Sheba and I could probably use this as a nice,
challenging respite from all the felgercarb attention we've been
getting."
"Apollo," Starbuck sounded more dead serious than in all the yahrens
he'd known Apollo, "I...don't know why I suddenly feel like telling you
this, but....I want you to know, that I consider you the best friend I've
ever had in my life."
Apollo lifted an eyebrow and frowned.
"And...well, I just felt I had to say that I wouldn't be half the
warrior I am, if I hadn't had a friend like you to guide me and provide a
better example for me."
"Starbuck," he said gently, "Are you suddenly getting sentimental over
the fact that you and I won't be working together on missions anymore?"
Starbuck let out a tiny, uneasy chuckle, "Well...maybe. I am going to
miss that, Apollo, but I know why you and Sheba have made that
arrangement and I don't blame you for that. Still, I...just felt the
need to let you know how I feel."
"Don't make it sound as though you're afraid we're not going to come
back, Starbuck," he took a step up the ramp toward the entrance, "I think
you and I aren't through working together on other things."
And with that, he walked away and stepped into the Cylon craft.
Several microns later, the door slid shut and Starbuck backed away to the
other end of the launch bay as he waited for the ship to take off.
He heard the engines fire up, and then the craft inched its way
forward before exiting the Galactica to begin its mission.
Starbuck kept watching until the ship receded to a tiny speck that was
soon swallowed up by the blackness of space. And then, he finally found
the strength to leave the launching bay, not knowing why he was feeling
so troubled.
Starbuck had initially returned to the Officers Club to meet with
Boomer, Greenbean, Bojay, Jolly and Giles over the preparations for
Apollo's party. Although he'd been virtually running the entire
operation, this time, he found himself staying away from the
conversation.
"So how goes it with the ambrosia gathering?" Boomer asked each of the
other warriors at the table.
"We just avoided a big crisis," Greenbean said, "You know that wiseass
in my squadron, Lieutenant Xavier? That guy was ready to spill the whole
thing to Council Security and get us all a sectan in the brig. We
literally had to bribe the gallmonging snot to keep him quiet."
"He's a great flyer, but colder than an Aquarian fish," Giles's voice
was filled with disgust, "He doesn't have a single friend in the whole
Fleet, I can tell you. The guy's a dirty little opportunist."
"If his character's that low, he'll probably wind up on the Council
some day," Jolly quipped.
The others laughed at the remark, except for Starbuck, who seemed to
be off in another world altogether, puffing away on his fumarella cigar.
"Starbuck?" Bojay nudged him, "You okay?"
"What?" Starbuck seemed jolted as he abruptly put his cigar out and
rose, "Sorry guys. I don't feel like going over all this right now. I'm
going to the bridge to see if there's any word on their patrol."
"What makes you think there's anything wrong?" Bojay asked, "My patrol
found the ion trails. They could be trace residue from God knows how far
back from just about anything."
"I don't know," Starbuck shook his head, "For some reason, ever since
they left, I've been getting the kind of feeling I only get when I've
overplayed a bluff in pyramid."
The blonde lieutenant turned and left the Officers Club, leaving the
other five warriors in uneasy silence.
When Starbuck arrived on the bridge, he noticed right away that Adama,
Tigh and Athena were congregated around the main long-range scanner, each
of them with looks of guarded concern on their faces. Right away, the
ordinarily brash warrior began to feel the sick tension inside him
increase.
"Anything wrong?" he kept his voice casual as he came up to them.
Tigh looked up at him, "We don't know Starbuck. It's been two centars
now, and they penetrated that solar system a long time ago. So far,
there hasn't been a trace."
"It doesn't necessarily mean anything," Adama tried not to sound
pessimistic, "Radio silence is absolutely essential. And Lord only knows
what kind of things there are to check out."
"It was supposed to be a quick scan and then return," Starbuck found
it impossible to stay casual, "It shouldn't be taking this long."
"I'm sure they'll come through fine, Starbuck," Adama said, "They're
two of the best."
"And if they were to run smack into a Cylon convoy, they might not get
a chance to break away from it without attracting attention," Starbuck
noted.
Athena suddenly glared at him, "Starbuck, the last thing we need to
hear from you is a gloomy forecast. If you're going to just spend your
time here depressing us, then you might as well leave."
Starbuck ignored his former girlfriend, "Commander, I request
permission to take my viper out and make a careful probe of where they
went to."
"Out of the question, Lieutenant," Tigh spoke up, "If it is a hostile
region, then the presence of just one viper could alert the Cylons. We
just have to sit tight and wait for them to come back on their own."
"That's a lousy set-up, if you ask me," Starbuck acidly retorted.
"That's how the procedure is supposed to go for this kind of a covert
operation, Lieutenant," Adama said pointedly, trying hard to maintain his
pose as an emotionless commander who had to do what was necessary no
matter what the personal cost, "They both understand that risk. They
wouldn't be fine warriors if they didn't."
Starbuck knew it was pointless to argue further. Without saying a
word, he threw up his arms in exasperation and walked away.
"What if he's right?" Athena uneasily mused, "What if something has
gone wrong, Father? Shouldn't we at least prepare some kind of rescue
contingency?"
The commander had put his hand to his chin, his eyes gazing intently
at the scanner, as if he were trying to will something to happen.
"Colonel," he said as firmly as he could, "Bring the Fleet to a new
heading that will take us clear of that solar system altogether. As soon
as we've put some distance from it, then make plans for a viper
reconnaissance patrol to go back and investigate. Assuming that the
overall situation remains unchanged."
"Yes sir," the executive officer nodded and descended the steps to the
lower deck of the bridge.
Athena rose from her chair and put her hand on her father's shoulder.
Even though she knew her father had always loved each of his children
equally, she'd long ago accepted the fact that Apollo was the one he'd
enjoyed a more special relationship with. There was a certain bond of
openness between them that had not been there with her or with her
long-dead, younger brother Zac. Because of that, she'd always been
convinced in her mind that losing Apollo would be far worse for her
father's psyche than if she were ever lost.
"Father," she said gently, "Is there anything more I can do for you?"
The commander turned around and weakly smiled at his daughter, "Just
keep doing your job for now, Athena. And it probably wouldn't hurt to
say another silent prayer."
For the next two centars, Starbuck just aimlessly wandered through the
corridors of the great battlestar, unable to think of any kind of
activity that would ease his mind of the anxious apprehension and tension
he continued to feel. If he tried talking to anyone, even Cassiopeia,
he'd probably hear more of the same about overreacting and being too
pessimistic, and additional remarks about how such pessimism was totally
out-of-character for him.
Which he wouldn't deny. It *was* strange for him to be acting this
way, worrying over a patrol assignment that he ordinarily wouldn't bat an
eyebrow over.
And yet....
"Hey Starbuck," a youthful voice called out, "Can you wait up?"
The lieutenant turned around and saw Apollo's son Cadet Troy (formerly
Boxey), at the other end of the hallway. He was now twenty-one, and
developed into a handsome young man.
"Sure Box-, Troy," Starbuck hastily corrected himself. Like Apollo,
he'd never understood why Boxey had come to despise his own name. He'd
heard a rumor once that it had something to do with some teasing he'd
taken as a child in one of his classes, but he'd never bothered bringing
up the subject with him, "What's on your mind?"
"Well I just came over from the training ship, because my father and I
had planned on meeting this afternoon in the Rejuvenation Center. But
they told me he went off on some kind of mission."
"Yeah, he did. Both he and Sheba."
"Really?" he lifted an eyebrow, "What for?"
"Well, they're investigating some kind of solar system nearby. It
should have been my patrol to pull with him, but she insisted on taking
my place."
"I'm not surprised," he said, "This close to the wedding, they
wouldn't want to be out of each other's sight when a mission comes up."
"Looking forward to it?" Starbuck tried to return to a normal,
bantering tone that had been lacking ever since they'd left.
"You'd better believe it," Troy nodded as they resumed walking down
the corridor, "This event's been overdue for too long now."
"That's interesting," Starbuck observed, "Apollo's always given me the
impression that one of the reasons why he held back was because he was
afraid of your reaction."
The young warrior-in-training let out a small laugh, "I really don't
know why he ever got that impression. Sure, I admit I have too much
respect for my mother's memory to think of viewing Sheba or anyone else
he might have married in the same way as I did her, but I didn't want
that to stop him. Just because I've been used to one parent only from
the beginning of my life doesn't mean I've enjoyed that."
At least you always had one parent, Starbuck thought. Whether it had
been Serina alone, after she'd been abandoned by Boxey's real father
before his birth, and later Apollo alone following Serina's tragic death
just after their marriage, someone had always been there for Boxey. Not
like himself, orphaned at the age of two after the Cylon raid on the
Caprican city of Umbra, never knowing who his parents had been. Sure,
there'd been that lovable old con-artist Chameleon he'd come across a
while ago who might have been his father, but according to the tests,
wasn't (though whenever his name came up while talking to Cassiopeia, he
always noticed how awkward she became, as if there was something about
Chameleon that she was keeping a secret about). However inadequate
Boxey/Troy's upbringing had been, it was a situation Starbuck would have
gladly settled for. One strong parent might have shaped him into a much
better person than he'd become.
"So how goes the party you're planning?" Troy changed the subject.
"Perfect," Starbuck smiled and decided in the interests of
pleasantries to relax and stop dwelling on the patrol status, "And since
you came of legal age in the last yahren, consider this your first
opportunity to sample ambrosia in its finest form. There'll be no
shortage for anyone."
"And how'd you come across enough ambrosia for that?" Troy wryly
inquired.
The blonde lieutenant's smile became a sly grin, "Us senior warriors
have our trade secrets, Cadet."
"Okay," Troy returned it, "But if you're borrowing the tactics for
which you gave Dillon and me all those demerits, there'll be hell to
pay."
"Troy, I didn't give you and Dillon demerits because you violated the
curfew regs, I gave it to you because you were caught violating the
curfew regs. That's where the real unpardonable sin lies. Now me, I
never got demerits for that sort of thing back at the Academy because my
instructor realized that if I could sneak out and in on such a regular
basis without anyone noticing, then that meant I had what it took to be
great for things like covert operations."
"I see," Troy continued to grin, "Then poor Dillon will have to be
told that his idolization of you and your methods hasn't yet paid off.
He'll be so disappointed."
The lighthearted conversation was making Starbuck slowly relax for the
first time in a while, and he was beginning to think that his
overreacting had been over nothing.
It only took one instant to shatter that relaxed feeling forever, as a
sound that had not filled the Galactica's corridors for five yahrens
suddenly went off.
The sound of a Red Alert klaxon.
"What the frack?" Starbuck looked up in bewilderment as the red
emergency lights switched on.
"Are we under attack?" Troy was in a state of shock.
"I guess we'll soon find out," Starbuck turned around and started
sprinting towards the turbo tram that led to the launch bay.
The young cadet followed at his heels, "Starbuck, as long as I'm here
on the Galactica, I might as well join in."
"Troy are you crazy?" Starbuck spun around, "You're a first semester
cadet who hasn't even gone through full battle training."
"No one's unqualified when it comes to protecting the Fleet. Now I've
had plenty of yahrens experience listening to my dad and you on how this
is done."
He overtook Starbuck in the sprint to the tram area, and the
ordinarily brash veteran shook his head in disbelief.
"Looks as though you listened to me too much, kid," he said under his
breath as he resumed sprinting.
On the bridge, an ominous dark cloud had come over every crewman
gathered there. Already, they knew the full nature of why the alert had
been sounded, and it represented the worst possible nightmare they could
have envisioned.
"Scanners indicate a task force of three baseships directly ahead of
us, and their entire complement of fighters closing in," Omega grimly
reported.
"Enemy fighters, 300 microns and closing," Rigel announced from her
station.
"Damn!" Adama slammed his hand against the rail in anger, "They set a
trap for us, and I walked straight into it. They knew if we found ion
traces in that solar system we'd alter course to this heading. How could
I be so stupid?"
"Fighters launching Commander," Athena struggled to keep her tone
professional, "But all signs are that we're going to be badly
outnumbered."
"This doesn't look good, Adama," Tigh said under his breath as he and
the commander looked at the readout, "This is the very battle we've been
trying to avoid for the last fifteen yahrens."
"Yes," Adama grimly nodded, as he reached for the unicom that would
enable him to address all the ships in the Fleet.
"People of the Fleet, this is Commander Adama. It is with the deepest
regret that I must announce that we will be under heavy Cylon attack in a
matter of centons," he paused and took a breath that was filled with
sadness, "There is little I can do at this point except to pledge that
all will be done to protect you as best as we can, and to also ask that
in this moment of crisis, let each of us place his faith in the belief
that the God who has protected and sustained us ever since we were forced
to flee the Colonies and begin this journey for Earth, will provide His
protection to us once again."
He calmly put the unicom down and went back over to the main consoles
on the upper deck.
"250 microns and closing," Rigel reported.
You must protect us, dear Lord, Adama kept praying over and over to
himself as though it were a mantra. Surely You would not protect us all
this time and not let us finish our journey.
As the attack force grew larger on the monitor, it seemed more likely
to Adama that only Divine Intervention could prevent this battle from
being a horrible catastrophe at the very least.
Even though it had been five long yahrens since the last engagement
with the Cylons, all of the viper pilots representing the main and
reserve squadrons, got down to the launch bays with the swiftness that
had been trained into them. As a result, a majority were away long
before the arrival of the first wave of Cylon fighters.
With Apollo absent, Starbuck assumed the lead position, and right away
his fighter's instincts told him that this was not going to be like the
usual engagements with the Cylons, where a numerical disadvantage of up
to ten-to-one was still good enough for the Colonial forces to overcome.
This time, the numbers of Cylon fighters far exceeded a ten-to-one
advantage.
"Lords of Kobol, would you look at how many there are of them?
Jolly was almost in a stunned stupor.
"You might as well just keep your finger on the fire button and hope
for the best," Starbuck responded, "From this micron on, you can throw
away the rule book for flight organization. Let's go!"
Starbuck fired the first shot of the battle and promptly destroyed the
lead Cylon fighter.
It was an advantage that they would not hold on to.
Wave after wave of Cylon fighters opened fire on the viper force, with
an intensity that Starbuck, Boomer or any other seasoned combat veteran
had not seen the likes of since the destruction of the Colonial Fleet in
the Holocaust.
"You get the feeling, they've learned how to fly better in five
yahrens?" Boomer grunted in exasperation as he fired and missed again for
the second time.
"A very bad feeling," Starbuck radioed back through clenched teeth,
"Frack Almighty, of all the times to be without Apollo and Sheba."
"You suppose they knew this was coming?" there was an edge of
bitterness in Greenbean's voice.
"Shove it Greenbean, and just do your damned job!" Starbuck retorted
angrily as he finally locked in and destroyed two more fighters.
Five centons went by, and already, the early indications were not
good.
"Starbuck!" he heard Giles's panicked voice crackle, "Two, three on my
tail, it's getting impossible to shake them off!"
"Giles, I can't even tell which sector you're in! Guide me to you!" a
note of alarm crept into Starbuck's voice.
"Oh frack, I can't--Lords of Kobol don't---"
Starbuck then caught the orange flash of an explosion out of the
corner of his eye. Right away, he knew in an awful instant that the
battle had claimed its first long-time veteran.
How many more would be gone before this ended?
And would there be any humans left alive before this ended?
"Commander, the attack force has separated into three arcs," Omega
found it more impossible to keep his tone even, "One group is engaging
the vipers, another is headed for us, and the third for the rest of the
Fleet."
"There's just too many of them, Adama," Tigh said as if he were
starting to accept the inevitable.
An expression of venomous anger came over Adama's face, "Then by God,
let's go down fighting. Omega! Bring all missiles to ready!"
The bridge officer nodded with defiant satisfaction, "Yes sir!"
"Attack force, 100 microns and closing," this from Rigel.
"Positive shield, secure all compartments, and keep us at full battle
speed!"
Ahead, the vipers found themselves tied down by the first attack wave.
The dispersal of the other two attack waves for the battlestar and the
Fleet, provided temporary relief for the vipers, insomuch as it brought
the level of fighters they were facing down to manageable levels. But
Starbuck knew that by the time they were able to take care of this group
of Cylon fighters, a good deal of hideous damage would be inflicted on
the Galactica and the rest of the Fleet, and they'd probably be too weak
to take care of the remaining groups.
There has got to be a better way than this, he thought as he took out
two more Cylon fighters. Staying with this one group while two others
took care of all the ships in the Fleet was only delaying the inevitable
end for themselves.
"Attention all fighters!" he shouted, "As Senior Strike Leader, I
hereby release all of you from squadron obligations. Each fighter is
permitted to pick his own battle wherever he thinks he or she can best
help!"
"Starbuck, have you lost your mind?!" Boomer jumped in, "What good is
that going to do?"
"Maybe a lot more good than staying here while the Galactica and every
other ship gets blasted away. There are Cylons already on top of them by
now, and we should get some licks in on them, if they're to have any kind
of chance!"
"Starbuck?" he heard a relatively unfamiliar voice fill his helmet.
"Yeah, could you please identify?" Starbuck got his question out just
as he destroyed two more fighters.
"Lieutenant Xavier, sir. I'm ready to lead some vipers in on one of
the basestars. They're so close together and unguarded that we might be
able to do something to them."
Starbuck hesitated for only a brief instant and then vigorously
nodded, "Okay Xavier, that might get some of these Cylons off the Fleet.
You go ahead, and Godspeed!"
"Yes sir!" he responded with an edge of pride as he took lead
formation of a group of six fighters and went to turbos.
"Starbuck, I'm falling back on the Galactica," Greenbean radioed, "At
least a hundred ships are almost on top of her now."
"I'm joining you," Starbuck hit his turbo and began heading back
toward the battlestar.
"Count me in too!" he heard the voice of Troy, which already sounded
like that of a seasoned veteran.
As the three vipers came up alongside each other, Starbuck flashed a
quick grin at the young cadet, "Let's make your father proud of you when
he gets back, Troy."
"Landing bay defense screens activated," Tigh said, "Let's pray that
Wilker's invention really works."
"Agreed," Adama nodded. After the repeated experience of Cylon
fighters making suicide runs on the Galactica's landing bays, Adama had
ordered chief scientist Dr. Wilker to develop a new type of defense
screen that would make it impossible for a ship of any kind to directly
ram the landing bay. Two yahrens ago, Wilker had finally developed one,
and this would mark the first time it would face a battle test.
"All laser turrets have commenced fire," Omega found himself sweating
so profusely with terror that he had to repeatedly wipe his brow.
"Two freighters and the senior ship destroyed, and at least a dozen
other ships in the Fleet are under attack," Athena's voice rose.
Incredible, Adama thought. For five yahrens, they'd been lulled into
a sense of false security that the worst danger of the Cylon pursuit had
passed for good. That the only thing left was the challenge of deep
space until they arrived at their destination of Earth. And now, because
of his one error in judgment in not suspecting this trap, more than
fifteen yahrens of keeping humanity together for this one last hope
seemed destined to failure.
A man of lesser faith than Adama might have grown angry with the
Almighty by this point, but the Commander's intense religiosity kept
motivating him on to believe that there would be deliverance from this
battle. That no matter what happened, and no matter who was lost, the
Galactica would survive.
Dear Lord, he prayed silently again, no matter what the cost to me
personally, please let this ship survive.
He felt the bridge shake slightly as the laser shots from several
Cylon fighters struck the battlestar.
"Sir, one fighter headed for Alpha Bay! Laser turrets unable to get
it."
Adama and Tigh focused their attention on the monitor in the landing
bay that aimed outward. They could see the Cylon fighter approaching,
positioning itself for a suicide hit where it would make a straight-on
approach, and then veer upward and crash once inside.
But one hundred feet short of the opening, the fighter suddenly
exploded in a harmless fireball.
"It worked!" Tigh pumped his fist, glad that there was finally one
thing to cheer about, "The shield worked!"
Adama only allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. It was only a very
small victory at the moment.
"Commander!" this from Omega, "Six of our fighters got through the
front-line of the attack force and are making strafing runs of the first
baseship! Serious damage to flank missile launchers and navigational
systems on the first one."
"Excellent!" Adama bolted over to Omega's console, "That's the break
we've been waiting for! Lock port missile one on to that first baseship,
and bring us to point-blank range!"
"Locked on and contact range in 600 microns."
The battlestar lurched and began to pick up speed despite the repeated
hits she was taking from the fighters.
"Look at that, she's picking up speed!" Greenbean seemed amazed, "I
think she's going after one of those baseships!"
"Maybe there's a chance after all," Starbuck grinned, "Let's clear
away some more of these fighters causing her trouble."
Nine vipers had hooked up to assume an impromptu fighter shield over
the Galactica. With almost a hundred Cylons hurling themselves at the
battlestar, it was difficult to keep many from getting through. Still,
their superior flying skills managed to dispose of nearly twenty
attacking ships before the first of the vipers was destroyed.
"Starbuck, two of them got by me and are headed for the bridge!" Troy
shouted, "I think they're both going to ram!"
"The bridge shield can only withstand one of them. All fighters, give
priority to taking those two out!" Starbuck shouted.
"Locking on to the first one," the ordinarily delicate, feminine voice
of Brie called out, "Just another micron---"
"Brie, look out behind you!" Greenbean shouted in alarm as he saw a
three fighter phalanx of Cylons suddenly swoop down on her.
The willowy blonde warrior who had first been pressed into service
when so many had been struck ill by an alien virus prior to the battle of
Kobol, and who had proved her value and skills as a fighter pilot so many
times in the yahrens since, barely had time to look up before her career,
and her life came to an abrupt end.
"Oh frack!" Greenbean slammed his fist against the cockpit canopy,
"Frack, felgercarb and shit!"
"Greenbean, try to do something to get one of them!" Starbuck wished
so much that professionalism didn't have to dictate feeling no emotion
over seeing so many people he'd known for so long die, "You're the only
one nearby."
"One of them won't be good enough," Greenbean choked back the rage he
felt, "She'd survive it, but that would ruin any chance of taking out the
basestar."
As Starbuck moved up behind the three Cylons that had killed Brie, he
suddenly saw Greenbean arch his viper into a dive that resembled a
strafing run.
"Greenbean, what are you---"
Before Starbuck could finish, he saw Greenbean's viper come almost on
top of the two fighters that were aimed at the bridge.
He opened fire and took out the lead one, just three hundred feet short
of the bridge.
And then, without stopping, and knowing that he never would have had
time to pull up and avoid hitting the Galactica himself if he had just
opened fire, Greenbean's viper slammed directly into the trailing Cylon
fighter. The two crafts exploded in a larger than average fireball that
dissipated just as the Galactica sped past.
The battlestar had been able to stay on course without crippling
damage.
As Starbuck took out two of the three Cylons he'd been chasing and
went back into a heading aimed at the third, he knew that if he survived
this battle and made it back to the Galactica, he was probably going to
lock himself in his quarters and cry for a sectan.
"Two hundred microns and closing on the first baseship," Omega gritted
his teeth, "Second baseship is dropping back. Third one is almost out of
scanner range now."
"That doesn't make sense," Tigh frowned, "They know they outnumber and
outgun us. They should be coming up to defend the lead one. Unless
they've decided to suddenly withdraw."
"Sir, the Cylon attack force on the Fleet has broken off and is
turning back!" Athena seemed startled by that lucky turn of events.
"Maybe they are breaking off," Adama looked dubiously at the monitor,
"But even if they are, I'm not passing up the chance on this one
baseship."
"One hundred microns and closing."
"As soon as it's away, prepare for emergency light speed and get us
away from here as fast as possible!"
Seeing the Galactica move away caused Starbuck and the six other
surviving vipers that had taken up the protective screen to regroup and
assume heading for the first arc where most of the Galactica's vipers had
remained concentrated even after Starbuck's release order.
As soon as Starbuck had arrived he found one fighter chasing Boomer.
One quick shot eliminated the threat to the man who was his closest
friend next to Apollo.
"Thank you, Starbuck," Boomer said with relief.
"Too many good people are dying out here," there was an angry edge to
his voice as he pulled up alongside Boomer, "I just saw Greenbean and
Brie get it."
"Then we're even, Starbuck," Boomer's voice was flat, "I saw Jolly get
blasted to infinity not two centons ago."
Starbuck was stunned by this news. This time, he didn't try to
suppress his emotions as he banged his fist against the canopy, and then
took after another three fighter phalanx.
"Die, you mechanical scum, die!" he shouted at the top of his voice as
he opened fire again.
"Contact range in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three,
two, one, mark!" Omega shouted.
"Fire missile and hard-a-starboard at full emergency speed!"
The lone missile, one of four that represented the Galactica's most
powerful weaponry, and which had never been considered for use at any
time during the last fifteen yahrens because all of them were
irreplacable, roared to life and belched out of one of two openings on
the battlestar's port side.
The instant it was away, the Galactica veered off in the other
direction and was gone from the area before they could see what the
missile had done.
Had they stayed, they would have seen it slam right into the center of
the basestar, where the main reactor engine was located. The circular
shaped Cylon warship then exploded in an instantaneous fireball.
"Yaaa-hooo!" Boomer let out a triumphant whoop that came more from
frustrated tension releasing itself than from elation, "That's showing
them!"
"Lords of Kobol, I think they're breaking off!" an incredulous Bojay
spoke up, "I don't know why, but the other two baseships are pulling out,
and the fighters are withdrawing!"
"Then let's pull out ourselves!" Boomer barked, "There's no point
tempting fate. Starbuck?"
The blonde lieutenant had only just finished shaking off his rage,
"Yeah," he exhaled calmly, "Agreed. Let's get out of here and rendezvous
with the Galactica."
And with that, the exhausted viper pilots who had survived the most
terrible combat engagement of the last fifteen yahrens, turned around and
headed for home. Each of their lives irrevocably altered by the
experience they had shared.
Two centars later, Starbuck, Boomer and Bojay were all on the bridge,
where the maintenance crews had finished attending to all the damage
sustained in the attack.
"I can't believe we actually came out of this," Adama was looking at
the navigation board in disbelief. The readings now registered all
clear, "We were outnumbered in every sense. They had sufficient strength
to destroy us. Yet they broke off. Why?"
"It certainly wasn't because of what we were doing, Commander," Bojay
shook his head, "We suffered over 45% casualties in our viper force. It
could take God knows how many sectans before we could ever be back to our
normal level of strength."
"Well at least our young cadets on the training ship didn't have time
to take part in the battle," Adama noted.
"All except your grandson," Starbuck said, still feeling like an
emotional wreck inside over the losses of Jolly, Greenbean, Giles and
Brie.
"Boxey?" Adama frowned in amazement. He only called his grandson by
his new name to his face.
"Turned out he was aboard when the attack began, so he insisted on
joining in. But he made it through okay."
"Thank God for that," the commander sighed, "Believe me, I'm sorry
about Greenbean, Jolly and everyone else. I know it has little value,
but they're all going to receive full posthumous honors."
"Darned little," Starbuck grunted bitterly, "Darned little."
"Easy," Boomer patted his friend on the shoulder, "Easy, Starbuck. We
all feel the same way."
"I'll tell you who really deserves a decoration," Bojay said,
"Lieutenant Xavier. I personally hate his guts, but he was the only one
who had the courage to lead some flyers in on the lead basestar."
"And that made it possible to destroy it," Adama said, "I have a
feeling he's going to become a big hero to the rest of the Fleet."
"Kind of ironic that the biggest hero of the battle who lived, had to
be him," Boomer let out a mirthless chuckle, "I never thought he had it
in him."
"So what do we do now, Commander?" Starbuck's eyes slowly shifted back
to the board.
"We put ourselves back together and we resume our journey," Adama
said, "At this point, there's nothing else we can do."
"You're all forgetting something," the bitterness in Starbuck's voice
deepened, "One detail about this whole battle that's gotten lost in the
shuffle."
An eerie and awkward silence came over everyone who was in earshot.
Finally, Adama drew himself up to all the authority and strength he
could summon.
"I didn't forget, Starbuck," he said quietly but firmly, "There wasn't
a micron in this entire battle where I wasn't thinking about the both of
them. We can only assume that when they reached that solar system,
something happened to them. They were probably caught off-guard as much
as we all were."
"I can't write them off as gone until we've had a chance to go back
and see if they made it to one of those planets," Starbuck raised his
voice, "I already saw two of my best friends I went to the Academy with,
die today, and if there's still a chance that two others who mean even
more to me are still alive, then I'm going to do something about it."
"And risk giving the Cylons time to regroup, Lieutenant?" Adama raised
his voice, "We just made it through this battle because Divine Providence
is with us, in helping us continue our journey to Earth. That means that
all kinds of sacrifice in the name of letting that journey continue have
to be made. Apollo and Sheba both know that, so did the brave souls who
lost their lives today, and so should you!"
The exchange had now become loud enough for everyone else on the
bridge to hear. Both Colonel Tigh and a quietly distraught Athena were
staring intently at the two of them.
"Commander," there was intense fury dripping from Starbuck's voice,
"That is pathetic felgercarb for your own benefit only, so you can assure
the victims of this tragedy that you gave no special favors to your son
and your daughter-to-be. Now if you really are a man of faith who
believes in the protection of God, then He isn't going to turn his back
on us and rain down fires of destruction just because we took a chance on
saving their lives!"
The silence that filled the bridge as the placid Adama and the irate
Starbuck stared at each other, was the most chilling that Tigh or anyone
else could recall.
Still sitting at her console, Athena suddenly put her hand to her
headset and frowned slightly. Brushing away one of the tears that had
been streaming down her cheeks, she turned around and looked at her
console.
"Starbuck," Adama said in that same gentle but firm tone, "In light of
what you and all of us have been through today, you will not be
disciplined for what you just said. But the next time, will be quite
different."
"Commander," Athena suddenly spoke up as she looked at her console in
stunned amazement.
"Yes?" Adama looked over to where she was seated.
"Commander, I'm getting a signal. I think it's....I think it's them!"
Adama, Starbuck, Boomer and Bojay suddenly bolted over to her console
on the other side of the bridge.
"Are you sure?" Adama felt his heart thumping like a school child
hoping that he was about to receive the present he most wanted for a
birthday celebration.
Boomer instantly nodded when he saw the computer readout, "That's it,
sir. That's the identification beacon I personally programmed into their
console."
"Can you raise them directly?" Tigh urgently inquired.
"No," Athena slowly took a breath, "I'm just getting the beacon.
Nothing else."
"Where's it coming from?" Starbuck was crossing his fingers as he
hunched over his former girlfriend's shoulder.
Athena hit several buttons, "It's coming from the second planet of
that solar system."
"Well that settles the question, Commander," Starbuck rose, "They're
alive and we have to get them out."
Adama nodded, "Very well. Two of you can take a shuttle there, but be
in-and-out as fast as you possibly can because we'll be out of range in
another ten centars."
"Yes sir!" Starbuck grinned as he, Boomer and Bojay turned and left
the bridge.
Adama, Tigh and Athena continued to stare at the readout on her
computer console. Hoping that amidst the horror the day had brought to
them, there would still be room for one more miracle.
"Commander only said two could go," Starbuck said as the three
warriors headed for the turbo lift, "That means one of you has to stay
behind."
"Well it's not going to be me," Bojay was emphatic, "Sheba's been like
a sister to me ever since I was first assigned to the Pegasus. I'm
going."
More than that, Starbuck remembered, Bojay had also been asked by
Sheba to be her Protector-Designate at the upcoming wedding, as a
stand-in for her father, Commander Cain. It was an honor that he knew
the Pegasus veteran had taken considerable pride in ever since Sheba had
asked him to do it.
"Boomer?" Starbuck looked over, "Do you mind?"
"I guess not," the dark-skinned warrior shrugged, "I suppose it's only
appropriate that the best man and the protector-designate perform the
honors. I think for now, I'd prefer to go to the Officers Club and cry."
"I know the feeling, buddy," Starbuck put a hand on his friend's
shoulder, "I know the feeling. Save a place at the table for the four of
us."
And then, he and Bojay entered the turbo lift. Boomer had time to say
a quiet, "Good luck," just as the doors slid shut.
Another tense period of waiting had settled in on the bridge as Adama,
Athena and Tigh kept their eye on the scanner, watching the lone shuttle
head back toward the solar system they had bypassed. Then watching the
indication that it had landed.
The centons passed slowly, as their remained no indication that the
shuttle had taken off again. Soon, the wait became a full centar. Then
two.
"What's going on?" Athena whispered through clenched teeth, "Frack
Almighty what's going on down there?"
"Commander, do you want to risk direct contact?" Tigh gently asked.
"No," Adama's hands were clasped behind his back as he shook his head,
"On that, I can't give an inch. No communications until they're within a
safe range."
"Commander?" Omega mounted the steps to the upper level.
"Yes, Omega?" Adama took his eyes off the scanner for the first time
in a long while as he looked at the bridge officer.
"We've just received a full damage report from Maintenance Chief
Shadrach. Ten localized hull breeches have all been sealed with wetsteel
lasers and repressurized. Chief Fireman Jorda reports all fires
contained. Shielding to Energizer and solium compartments weakened
slightly, but they did their job perfectly."
"Good," Adama nodded, "How many ships did we lose from the Fleet?"
Omega sucked in his breath, "Eleven in all, sir. The heaviest losses
were on the senior ship. And I'm afraid that Sires Domra and Montrose
were both aboard when it happened."
The commander closed his eyes and winced. The two members of the
Council of Twelve might have caused him a lot of trouble over the yahrens
with their inept belief in their own greatness, but they had still been
personal friends of his for many yahrens. Simple decency dictated that
respect be shown even for the deaths of his political rivals.
"That's....most unfortunate," Adama finally spoke, "We'll have to
arrange election of new members in the near-future. Keep me posted on
any further details."
As soon as the bridge officer had moved away, Tigh shook his head in
disbelief, "After all the calm we'd enjoyed for the last five yahrens, I
keep wondering if I'm still living in some kind of nightmare."
"Trying to deny it won't do any good, Tigh," his long-time friend
sighed, "It's happened. We've taken the worst losses since the day we
fled the Colonies. We just learn to live with it, and hope that we
haven't lost any of our capacity for resilience."
Just then, Adama saw his grandson enter the bridge and come over to
them.
"I just talked with Boomer," he said with tense concern, "What's the
situation?"
"The shuttle arrived on the planet, but it hasn't taken off yet," Tigh
said, "We're still monitoring the situation."
Adama put his hands on his grandson's shoulders and looked into his
face. After the terrible experience of the day, it seemed to Adama as
though Boxey had aged more than ten yahrens since he'd last seen him only
a sectan ago.
"We'll know soon enough, Boxey," he said, "For now, we can only keep
praying."
Troy didn't object to his grandfather's forgetting to use his new
name, "I hope so," he whispered, "I hope so. I wanted to finally have
two parents again, not none."
"They'll be fine," he said, "And when your father's back, you can tell
him how you proved yourself a warrior today."
"Commander, the shuttle has taken off!" Athena finally let out a
relieved yelp, "Now on course headed back for us. Should be in safe
communications range in thirty centons."
"Good, good," Adama felt his enthusiasm level go up as he and Troy
came over to the scanner, "It looks as though the Lords are with us even
more."
Once again, a period of anxious, nervous tension set in as they waited
for the shuttle to come within safe communications range.
When that moment came though, there was still no signal.
"Come on Starbuck," Athena muttered under her breath, "Talk to us.
Talk."
Another centon passed, and Adama slowly began to rub his fingers in an
effort to relieve the inner tension.
He finally sucked in his breath, "Try raising them."
Athena nodded and activated a switch so that the conversation could be
heard by everyone, "Alpha shuttle, this is Galactica Core Command, please
come in. Over."
There was only silence.
"Alpha shuttle, this is Galactica Core Command, please come in and
notify us on mission status. Over," Athena could hear her heart pounding
even through her headset.
Still nothing.
Adama was biting his lip as he leaned forward and decided he had to
speak up, "Alpha shuttle, this is Commander Adama. I'm ordering you to
respond now, Starbuck!"
Another ten seconds passed, and suddenly the video monitor came on.
The four people gathered around the console on the bridge could see
Starbuck's face, and right away they knew that something was wrong. His
face was even more haggard and drawn than it had been during the height
of his argument with the Commander. His eyes were red and heavy, as
though he'd been crying.
"Starbuck?" Adama felt a sense of alarm rise as he leaned closer,
"Starbuck what happened?"
The blonde lieutenant bit his lip as though he were trying to choke
back another emotional outburst. It took him several seconds before he
tried to speak.
"Commander," he barely choked the word out, and it was clear that he
had been crying, "Commander, listen carefully. You've got to have
Cassiopeia come down to the landing bay and get on board here, fast. And
I'd," he broke off as he wiped his eyes and choked back another sob,
"I'd...make sure that you have Alpha Bay sealed off. I...I...can't begin
to explain what just happened here, sir. I..."
Adama felt a rush of horror go through him as he suddenly snapped on
his headset and shut off the feed to the rest of the bridge.
"Starbuck, what are you talking about? Did you find them?"
"Commander, please...." Starbuck seemed to plead, "Not yet. Come down
to Alpha Bay, and once you're on board I can tell you. But not over the
intercom sir, please."
And then, the monitor feed from the shuttle abruptly went blank.
There were only expressions of stunned horror on the faces of both
Athena and Troy. Already, the Commander's grandson had put his arm
around his aunt, as though he were leaning on for some kind of support.
Adama calmly put his headset down and turned to Tigh, "Notify
Cassiopeia to get down there immediately. You have the conn."
"Yes sir," Tigh could only whisper.
As the commander prepared to leave, he looked back at his daughter and
grandson, both of whom were still holding on to each other, "Do either of
you want to come?"
Athena vigorously shook her head as she brushed away another tear.
Troy didn't even acknowledge him.
And then, Adama left the bridge at the fastest pace he'd walked in
many yahrens.
He arrived at the same time as a bewildered Cassiopeia, who was
carrying a full medical kit, just as the shuttle entered the landing bay
and came to a stop. Once it had, the two of them sprinted up to the
hatch.
"Starbuck!" Adama suddenly pounded on the hatch, "Let us in, now!"
There was silence for almost a minute, before the grinding sound of
the hatch door opening came to a life. Once the door slid open, both
Adama and Cassiopeia dashed inside.
"All right Starbuck, what---"
Adama then stopped in his tracks when he and Cassiopeia saw what lay
in front of them. In the pilot's seat, Starbuck sat slouched with his
right hand pressed against his chin, visibly shaking.
In the seat next to Starbuck was Sheba. She had lost her uniform
jacket, and the tunic was torn in several places. Her brown hair was
disheveled and tangled. And what stunned Adama and Cassiopeia most of
all were her eyes and the expression on her face. There was a look of
total horror and fear that Adama and Cassiopeia had never in all their
lives seen the likes of before.
"Sheba?" Adama leaned over his would-be daughter-in-law and touched
her shoulder, "Sheba?"
"No, don't, Commander!" Starbuck suddenly blurted.
As soon as Adama made contact with her, Sheba suddenly began to wildly
thrash about like a frightened animal. Starbuck bolted from his chair
and forced her back down, but she continued to struggle and thrash about,
emitting a series of frightened sobs.
"Cassie, give her a sedative, quick!" Starbuck called over.
The Chief Medical Officer dashed up and quickly pulled out a syringe
filled with tranquilizers. As she tried to inject it into Sheba's arm,
her thrashing motions suddenly caught Cassiopeia directly on the chin.
"Come on, hold still!" Starbuck continued to hold Sheba down as
Cassiopeia regained her bearings and made another attempt at an
injection. This time, she was successful. In an instant, Sheba's
thrashing and frightened squeals stopped and she went limp from
unconsciousness.
"Oh God," Starbuck dropped back into his chair, "Oh God, what else?"
"Starbuck," Adama was almost in a state of shock, "What in the name of
all that's holy happened?"
The ordinarily brash lieutenant slowly turned around and looked at the
commander, "After what I've just seen today, sir, I now have serious
doubts about whether or not there is anything holy in this universe.
After all this---" he shook his head and seemed like he was ready to
break down again.
"Starbuck," Cassiopeia put an arm around his shoulder, "What
happened?"
"Where's Apollo?" Adama felt the sick dread rising inside him.
Starbuck looked up and seemed to glare at him, "Commander, aren't you
the least bit interested in knowing where Bojay is?"
The pointed edge of the question suddenly brought a chill to the
Commander's heart.
"Where is he?" he could barely force the question out.
Starbuck suddenly motioned his head toward the rear of the shuttle,
"There," he said, "He's back there."
Cassiopeia got up and made her way to the back of the shuttle.
Seconds later, she was back with another look of horror.
"My God," the Chief Medical Officer whispered, "He's dead. He's been
shot dead."
"Yeah, that's what's happened," Starbuck's voice rose in anguished
irony, "Bojay's dead, Sheba's lost her mind, and Apollo is....gone."
Adama came up to the blonde warrior and grabbed him by the wrist, "You
tell me everything that happened, Starbuck. Everything!"
The forcefulness of his tone seemed to make Starbuck relax, as if the
lieutenant felt a sense of duty that he had to be thoroughly calm for
this.
"The...the planet they ended up on, was pretty desolate for the most
part. Nothing but rocky barrenness as far as the eye could see. Once we
pinpointed the signal, we...um, we brought the shuttle down to within a
hundred metrones of the Cylon fighter. We'd...tried raising it directly,
but there wasn't any response, so we figured that maybe the
communications had been damaged. When we saw it, it looked as though it
had been forced down somehow, but there were no signs of laser damage, so
I don't think it ran into any Cylon patrols or anything like that."
Starbuck paused to wipe his mouth, "We...we called out but there was
no answer. And then, when we activated our lifesign computer, we got a
disturbing readout. It only indicated one lifeform in the area, about
three hundred metrones away.
"We came to an outcropping of some rocks, and...God...there she was,
sprawled over the rocks in total hysterics. Her jacket and her belt and
laser pistol were gone, and she was pounding her fists against the rocks
and the ground. Over and over again, she was screaming and crying and
totally oblivious to everything going on."
"Did she say anything?" Adama could scarcely believe what he was
hearing, "Anything at all?"
Starbuck nodded grimly, "She did. Amidst her screaming and sobbing,
she was saying the same things constantly."
"And?" Adama demanded.
The lieutenant lowered his head and sighed, "'Apollo, I love you,' and
'Apollo, my fault.' That was it. Over and over again."
The silence that fell throughout the shuttle was deafening as both
Adama and Cassiopeia tried to come to terms with these revelations.
"Starbuck, do you need something before you go on?" his girlfriend
offered.
"No," he shook his head and seemed to calm down more, "No, not yet.
Anyway," he took a breath, "We tried getting her to calm down but she
didn't seem to recognize us. We struggled to get her to her feet, and
she got even more hysterical. And now she was saying 'I want to die, I
want to die. Apollo, my fault.'"
Starbuck took a breath and suddenly pulled out a cigar, feeling like
he'd needed one for a good long while. Adama didn't bother to say
anything about the violation of regulations for smoking inside a shuttle.
"I take it there was no sign of Apollo?" he quietly inquired.
"Not a sign," Starbuck shook his head as he lit up and took a grateful
puff, "We concentrated a scan beam ten thousand metrones from the Cylon
fighter in all directions. There wasn't anything at all. And we decided
that the sooner Sheba got back to the Galactica, the better, so we
weren't going to waste any time with that. It was painful to have to
write Apollo off as gone without finding a body at least, but the more we
kept hearing Sheba's hysterics, the less that seemed to matter."
The blonde warrior took another puff before resuming. "Bojay decided
to stay with her in the back of the shuttle, while I'd fly solo back to
the Galactica. I was going through a final systems check, when all of a
sudden I heard a wild commotion in the back. I got up and saw Sheba and
Bojay struggling together. She was trying to grab his laser pistol away
from him, and she was screaming 'No, let me die! I want to die!' over
and over. It was clear she was trying to get his laser pistol away so
she could kill herself. And...." he broke off, unable to say what had
happened next.
Adama though, didn't need to be told. He lowered his head and felt
the tears coming to his eyes, "The gun went off during the struggle and
killed Bojay," he whispered.
Starbuck grimly nodded.
"Dear God," Adama slowly shook his head in disbelief, wondering how
and why the God he had always honored could at first bring him to such
euphoria over surviving the battle, and now plunge him into this.
He now remembered his prayer from during the battle, when he had said
that he would be prepared to sacrifice anything in the name of seeing the
Galactica survive the battle, so that the journey to Earth could
continue. He had been prepared to learn that his son and would-be
daughter were dead and gone forever, but not under circumstance like
this. By far, this was even more of a cruel blow than the day of the
Holocaust, when his beloved wife Ila, and his youngest son Zac had been
taken from him.
"When Bojay collapsed to the floor dead, I think it threw her into an
even deeper shock," Starbuck resumed, "She suddenly froze and didn't move
a muscle, and there was this look of pure horror on her face. I...I
tried to get her up front, but the micron I touched her, she started
thrashing about and sobbing again. I...finally had to knock her
unconscious with a blow to the chin, and once I dragged her up to the
front, I shackled her wrists. And...well God, I just was too shocked to
do anything after that. I must have just sat there for more than a
centar before I finally found the strength to take off and head back."
Adama dropped into one of the passenger seats and delicately wiped his
eyes, trying hard to think of how he could properly react to this
terrible, evil news. Only a day ago, Apollo and Sheba had been happily
looking forward to their wedding. And now, Sheba was in a state of
incoherent shock, bordering on insanity, and his son was gone forever.
What had happened? What could possibly have happened to them on that
planet that had caused Sheba to lose complete control of herself? In the
many yahrens that he had come to know and love her, he had always been
impressed by her headstrong resiliency. Only something frightening and
evil beyond belief could have...
Adama abruptly shuddered and broke his train of thought. If it was
something that could cause that much trauma and tragedy within Sheba, who
loved Apollo more than any other individual, then he almost felt like not
wanting to know the answer, ever. If he were to ever find out himself,
he couldn't begin to imagine what that might do to his own psyche.
Or to Boxey's, for that matter.
"Commander," Cassiopeia handed Starbuck a cup of water which he
gratefully downed in one gulp, "What are we supposed to do now?"
The commander sighed, rose from his chair and came over to the front.
He then looked down at Sheba's unconscious form and sadly shook his head.
"I can't let word of this get out," he said, "It's simply too horrible
and ugly to be ever made public."
"I don't see how you can avoid it, Commander," Cassiopeia went over to
Sheba and began making a quick examination of her bruises for any signs
of additional trauma, "Sheba has to be attended to. Maybe, if she can
recover..."
"Cassiopeia," Adama said quietly, "What are the chances of that ever
happening?"
The Chief Medical Officer bit her lip and let out a sigh, "Very poor,
if what I think has happened, has. If she's suffered a total mental
breakdown, then there's next to nothing I can do. Psychiatric medicine
is....well it's something we've virtually lost all knowledge of. There
were no specialists in the field who survived the Holocaust,
and....almost all of the major medical texts on file about it weren't
saved either."
"Then I think we have no alternative," Adama sighed, "Get this shuttle
ready for transport to Hospital Ship #2. That's the only place she can
be kept for now."
"The Nuthouse?" Starbuck angrily bolted from his chair, "You're going
to have her locked up in the Nuthouse?"
"Starbuck, listen to me!" Adama angrily raised his voice, "Listen to
me good! There's nothing that can be done for her in the short-term, and
the last thing I want to see, is her in full-view of everyone in the Life
Station with people asking questions. My God, do you want people to know
that she lost her mind and accidentally killed Bojay?"
Starbuck's anger instantly faded and he nodded, "No, you're right.
I...I don't think I could ever let anyone know about that. I mean...she
didn't know what she was doing."
"The publicity would be horrible beyond belief," Adama went on, "Some
opportunistic opposer might even have charges brought against her for
Bojay's death, and I'd be forced to conduct a public trial on the matter.
Starbuck, Cassiopeia, please," his voice almost took on a pleading edge,
"We can't let this out. For now, we simply have to tell them that Apollo
and Sheba were killed as a result of the battle."
"And how do we explain Bojay, lying back there?" Cassiopeia seemed
dubious.
"That presents a problem," Adama admitted, "We'll have to say
initially for the benefit of those who saw him after the battle, that he
was accidentally killed on the planet while you were investigating.
Later on, I may have that changed in the official record that he was
killed during the battle itself."
"Boy, you're starting to sound like a genuine politician, sir,"
Starbuck bitterly shook his head.
"Starbuck, please," Adama knew he didn't have the right to be angry
with him for the insult, "Unless you want Sheba's honor and memory to be
stained forever, you have to agree to this."
"All right!" Starbuck shouted with all the fury he could summon, "All
right, you've bought my silence! Fine! Now let's get this whole
miserable fracking thing done with!"
Adama nodded, "Have us take off and head for the hospital ship,
immediately."
"That's going to attract attention from those on the bridge,"
Cassiopeia pointed out.
"Only from Tigh and Athena, and they're two of the only four who'll
ever know about this," Adama said, "I'll also have to tell Boxey and
Boomer. Beyond that, no one else."
"And when we get to the Nuthouse?" Starbuck angrily flicked several
switches as he maneuvered the shuttle into take-off position, "What do we
tell them?"
Adama looked down at Sheba again and sighed, "We take her uniform off,
and get her in under an assumed name. Cassiopeia, you can tell them it's
an old friend of yours who had a break-down as a result of the trauma in
the battle. I'll stay aboard the shuttle so they won't know about my
involvement."
"Planned to the last detail," Starbuck angrily clenched his teeth as
he hit the turbo engines, "It'll be our nice little secret forever."
As the shuttle exited the launch bay and began it's painful journey,
Adama found himself tenderly running his hand through Sheba's disheveled
hair.
His mind went back to that day when she'd been evacuated to the
Galactica during the battle of Gomorrah as a result of battle injuries,
and how he, Apollo and Starbuck had visited her in the Life Station when
her father and the Pegasus had disappeared. He remembered how he had
extended his hand in friendship, asking her that until Commander Cain
made contact with them again, could she consider herself a part of his
own family. And he remembered how she had gratefully smiled and said, "I
already do," as she reached out to squeeze the offered hand in gratitude.
"Forgive me, Sheba," Adama leaned down and kissed her on the forehead,
"Forgive me."
And with that, the cover-up had began which would last for the next
sixteen yahrens.
Chapter Two
As Adama sadly finished recounting the details of what had happened
sixteen yahrens ago, Cain quietly sat himself on the edge of his
daughter's bed so that he could look down at her vacant, frozen
expression. His expression still grim, he began to stroke her hair.
"...Once she was in, Cassiopeia created a false personnel file for the
previous operations chief," the Galactica commander went on, "There never
were any questions asked about it. Several days later, at the memorial
service for all those who died in the battle, I made the official
announcement that Sheba and Apollo had both been killed in action."
"And no one ever talked?" Cain didn't look back.
"No one," Adama shook his head, "Starbuck was lost a yahren later. My
daughter Athena knew, and is dead know. The only others left who know
that Sheba's still alive are Sire Tigh, Colonel Boomer, my grandson Troy,
and Lieutenant Dillon."
Cain continued stroking Sheba's hair, "How'd you come up with the name
Rayena?"
"An old friend of mine who died during the Holocaust," Cassiopeia
spoke for the first time, brushing away a tear after hearing all the
details of the past brought into the open, "You actually met her once."
The Juggernaut turned around and frowned slightly, "I did?"
His former girlfriend let out a sigh, "She was the girl I was with the
night you and I met in the Caprica City bar."
Cain got to his feet and took two angry steps toward her, "You passed
my daughter off as a former socialator?"
"I didn't have much choice, Cain," she raised her voice slightly,
trying to conceal the disgust she felt over his indignation on that
point. Considering that he was the benefit for more than a yahren of all
that a socialator was supposed to do, he was extremely hypocritical to
object. "I had to pick the name of someone I knew, and who I knew for a
fact was dead and had no surviving family in the Fleet. And it had to be
done on the spur of the moment."
He stopped, lowered his head, and let out an exhale that indicated his
brief anger had passed.
"All right Cassie, I'm sorry. And Adama, I....I suppose I can
understand why you didn't want it to be publicized. I mean...my God to
think that what she did to Bojay...."
"It was an accident Cain," Adama said gently, "And she didn't know
what she was doing."
"But didn't you try to do something to make her better?"
Adama was momentarily silent. This was by far the one part of the
story he wasn't sure he could ever be truthful with Cain about. True,
the advanced knowledge needed for a case such as Sheba's had been lost
long ago, but he certainly could have made an effort by martialing the
resources of the medical staff in new ways. But that would have resulted
in too many people finding out about Sheba. And if Sheba recovered,
Adama was deathly afraid of learning what had happened to his son that
could have caused Sheba's mind to crack.
He glanced at Cassiopeia for a brief instant. Her expression
indicated that she wasn't going to embarrass Adama by exposing his
subconscious fear of learning Apollo's fate, so he went ahead with his
slightly embellished explanation.
"Cain," he said gently, "If we were back in the Colonies, a place with
the facilities like the Caprican Medical Center might have been able to
do something. But when the Holocaust happened, we lost all of the
knowledge in psychiatric medicine that made treating a case like her's
possible. We can handle normal cases of mental fatigue, but something
like this required a specialist. And none of the original surviviors
included a specialist. All we could do was keep her in good physical
condition and hope for a miracle."
The Juggernaut seemed to glare at him, as though he wanted to explode
in rage over this whole thing. But inside, Cain already knew that would
be completely pointless.
He went back over to Sheba's bed and once again ran his hand through
her hair.
"So she's condemened to suffering like this until she dies," he said
aloud, "With no hope."
"That's not true," Cassiopeia stepped forward, "There's a possibility
that things can change now."
"How?" Cain didn't look at her and kept his attention on his daughter.
"Spend some time with her," the Chief Medical Officer was blunt,
"Maybe she'll respond to you eventually. And if that doesn't work, there
are other things we can explore that weren't possible before."
Adama frowned slightly as though he didn't know where she'd be going
with this argument.
"Such as?" Cain asked.
Cassiopeia looked back at Adama, "If the solution to treating Sheba
properly was lost to us, maybe it exists on Earth. Maybe as primitive as
they are technologically, they have sufficient knowledge of psychiatric
medicine that can help us."
A faint glimmer came over Adama's face.
"Well Adama?" Cain refused to sound too opportunistic, "Is that
possible?"
The Galactica commander thoughtfully pondered the idea, "We've never
made a major investigation of Earth's medical knowledge, but I suppose it
is something we could try."
"You said you had contacts on Earth," Cain took a step forward, "Could
they help us find the right people on Earth who'd know about something
like this?"
"We can certainly try," Adama said, "I'll notify Troy and Dillon and
I'm sure they'll be glad to do it."
"If they're going to try and make contact with the Earth medical
community, then I'd have to go too," Cassiopeia spoke up, "I'd be able to
explain the problem a lot better than they could."
"Agreed," Adama nodded and then looked the Juggernaut in the eye, "And
Cain, would you be up to making your first journey to Earth?"
"For her sake, yes," Cain said with determination, "I'll turn over
acting command of the Pegasus to Colonel Skyler for as long as I have to,
until there's some kind of breakthrough with Sheba."
"Very well," the Galactica commander said as he pressed the signal for
Edom to return, "Cassiopeia, you make arrangements with Dr. Edom for
Sheba to be transported over to the Galactica Life Station. Once she's
there, we'll make arrangements for the Earth expedition. In the
meantime Cain, I suggest you accompany me back to the Galactica, because
we have to take care of some business before the Council that was
postponed because of this incident. You still need to give a full report
on the Cylon task force you made your way past to get here."
The Juggernaut sighed and looked back at his daughter, "Adama, I'll
join you in five centons. Just give me a little time alone with her
first."
"Very well," Adama said as the door slid open and he stepped out into
the corridor. The Chief Medical Officer started to follow him out, but
then turned back to Cain.
"Cain," she said, "I wish there was some way of letting you know how
sorry I am."
"You did all you could, Cassie," Cain didn't look at her as he resumed
stroking Sheba's hair.
No I didn't, she replied to herself. I didn't do enough. I let Adama
convince me that nothing could be done.
Unable to say anything else, Cassiopeia left the room, leaving Cain
alone with his daughter.
He let out a sad sigh and slowly shook his head in disbelief as he
continued stroking her brown hair.
"Baby," Cain whispered tenderly, "Baby, what happened to you? What
made you this way now?"
It was so hard for him to connect the frozen, vacant expression
staring at him with the face of the tiny infant he'd once held in his
arms; of the little girl he'd once played in the sand with on the
Caprican seashore; of the shy, awkward adolescent who'd once listened
with fascination to his colorful war stories so many nights and been
motivated to become a warrior herself; of the beautiful young woman who'd
sucessfully emerged from his shadow to become an outstanding warrior in
her own right.
For one horrible moment, Cain could have sworn that he was looking at
his long-dead wife, Bethany, and his guilt-ridden conscience wondered if
her suffering had been anything like this when she'd died more than
thirty yahrens ago. He'd never had a chance to find out. As always,
he'd been away in battle and hadn't been there when she really needed
him. And now, the same thing had happened to his daughter, and just like
it had been with Bethany, he hadn't been there for her.
Well by God, the Juggernaut thought, his inability to do anything for
Bethany wasn't going to be repeated this time. He was going to devote
his entire attention to his daughter even if that meant never actively
commanding the Pegasus again. There was no way he was going to die
before Sheba was cured and well again.
If in fact, such an outcome were humanly possible.
"It's okay Sheba," Cain whispered tenderly and knelt beside her so
that his face was an inch from hers, "It's going to be okay. I'm back
and your Dad's going to do all he can to make you well again. I
promise."
He kissed her on the cheek and gave her hand a tight squeeze. As he
got to his feet, and started to let go, he was suddenly startled by her
hand tightly squeezing his, as if in response.
"Sheba," he dropped to his knees again and looked into her vacant,
glassy-eyed visage, "Sheba, baby, do you hear me? Do you know I'm here?"
Several seconds passed, and then he felt her hand squeeze his again.
Cain looked intently into his daughter's face, desperately hoping he
could find another sign that she had in fact responded to him. But there
was nothing else.
Lords of Kobol, maybe there was hope, he thought. Maybe there was
hope after all.
"I have to go now, baby," he said in that same tender tone, "I'll be
back later. And soon, you'll leave this evil place and never have to
come back. We're going to make you better, Sheba. I promise."
He slowly got to his feet and once again felt her hand squeezing his.
With the greatest reluctance, he let go of her and walked away.
In orbit around the star known on Earth as Sirius, a task force of
four Cylon basestars lay clustered together in an ever present vigil of
monitoring and waiting. Waiting for the day to come when the thousands
of centurions stationed aboard the warships would receive the order to
unleash the final assault on humanity and bring the long overdue last
chapter of the thousand yahrens war between Cylons and humans to it
conclusion.
That order to destroy the Galactica and her petty Fleet of 185 odd
rag-tag ships could have been issued long ago. The task force had long
since been able to determine the Galactica's location and keep track of
her movements, but on the order of the task force commander, the decision
to attack had been postponed. For day after day, yahren after yahren.
The soulless machine minds of the typical centurions did not have the
capacity to feel any human emotions such as impatience or frustration,
that would have made it impossible for a human crew to follow such an
order if the situation had been reversed. As a result, they simply went
about their duties of maintaining the basestars and the fighters in
working order, while they waited for the order to come.
For the IL Cylons who represented a higher step of development in
technology, there could be no similar patience. IL Cylons were modeled
after the level of "second-brain" Cylons from the original race of
reptiles that had long since been extinct. Because of the extra computer
brain programmed into IL's, they were able to speak like humans, to think
more clearly, and above all, to have a fine grasp of human emotions that
centurions were incapable of achieving. As a result, the IL's were on
occasion, quite capable of sensing the emotions of frustration and
impatience the single-computer brain centurions could never know.
Aboard the taskforce commander's basestar, such feelings of impatience
were now raging within the IL Cylon who acted as second-in-command, as he
entered the commander's throne room.
"By your command," he bowed slightly as he came to a stop in front of
the high pedestal the commander ruled from.
The chair spun around and the white-haired, thickly bearded human
traitor who had become a Cylon commander stared implacably at him.
"Speak."
"Our scout patrol tracking the Battlestar Pegasus reports that she has
made contact with the Galactica and her Fleet."
"Excellent."
The IL's impatience could not be contained any longer, "With all due
respect, it is not excellent. We have allowed her to make her way safely
through our lines so that she can provide additional defense for the
Galactica than there was before."
"This is scarcely the time to be picking a fight with the likes of
Commander Cain," the traitor responded gently, "No doubt, we would win
such an engagement, but the cost to our strength could be damaging in the
long-term. As you know, we are too far from Cylon to ever expect
reinforcements. Our strength must be conserved for the final battle."
"Which is predicated on our being led to Earth first by the
Galactica," the IL pointed out, "An event that could be many yahrens from
now, if ever."
"It will happen one day," his voice grew harsh, "You know that. There
is no reason for you to think otherwise, unless you are making some kind
of insinuation."
The IL was silent for a moment before responding, "Forgive my
impudence, Commander."
"Apology accepted, Lucifer," he smiled, "Do not be impatient. The
last strike is predicated on all the surviving elements of humanity
coming together so they may be all destroyed in one assault. The arrival
of the Pegasus merely represents the next phase of that development. All
that is left is the inevitable discovery of Earth."
The IL bowed slightly again and without saying anything else, bid a
somewhat hasty exit.
Alone, the commander found himself hoping that things were going
exactly as he expected them to, in more ways than he'd revealed to
Lucifer.
Chapter Three
Television broadcaster Jamie Hamilton had finished her work as
afternoon anchor for the United Broadcasting Company's Los Angeles
affiliate, and was anxious to get back to her fashionable apartment to
unwind. Los Angeles was in the throes of a ninety degree heat wave in
November that as always, made Jamie yearn for the subzero winters of her
childhood home outside Chicago.
As she finished having her makeup removed and gathered her things
inside her dressing room (that is, the one she shared with all the other
secondary anchors. Only the long-time distinguished gentlemen who
handled the six and eleven o'clock news like Jerry Dunphy at KABC ever
got dressing rooms all to themselves), she was not particularly anxious
to see her news director Joe Harper come up to her.
"Way to go," he was grinning, "Another winning broadcast from LA's
finest anchor."
Jamie tried to avoid rolling her eyes. Once again, the early
fortyish, average-looking and perpetually unmarried Harper was trying to
make his idea of a play for her.
"Thanks Joe," she always tried to sound polite and friendly when it
came time to gently reject him. Harper was the best news director she'd
ever worked for, and the last thing she could afford was permanently
damaging his psyche, "I just wish there'd been more interesting things to
talk about than the aftermath of the most boring Presidential election in
American history. Forty-nine states to one."
"Served the Democrats right for nominating a loser like Mondale,"
Harper grimaced slightly. He was ordinarily a life-long Democrat who had
just cast his first vote ever for a Republican.
"They had the ticket reversed from what it should have been," she kept
her tone light, "Instead of picking the first woman running-mate, they
should have nominated the first woman to be President."
"Maybe," he admitted, and then resumed his subtle play, "So tell me,
does LA's most beautiful anchor have anything planned for tonight?"
"I dunno Joe. Call KNBC and see what Connie Chung's up to."
"Come on," Harper's face dropped slightly as he followed her out the
door into the corridors of the UBC building, "Connie Chung's got nothing
on you, Jamie."
True, Jamie admitted to herself. Could Connie Chung, or Barbara
Walters and Jane Pauley for that matter, ever claim that they got to
travel far into space, and come face-to-face with people who'd journeyed
from the other end of the stars?
And not only that, but that she'd even fall in love with and begin a
relationship with one of them?
"Thanks Joe, but I think on a night like this, I plan on soaking
myself in my building's pool."
"Well if it's cooling off you need, I can get tickets to tonight's
Kings game. Nothing like hockey to remind you of ice and snow in faraway
places."
"Your offer tempts me, sweetie," she smiled brightly as she could,
"But I think I'll take a dip in the pool tonight instead. Maybe next
time."
"It's always next time for me, isn't it?" he feigned a hurt
expression, "Enjoy your swim."
Jamie let out a sigh of relief as he walked away and disappeared
around the corner. Joe always had enough of a sunny disposition that if
when rejected, his first instinct wouldn't be to head for the nearest
bar.
As Jamie headed for the elevator, she heard the dash of footsteps and
saw the smartly attired producer of her broadcast trying to catch up to
her.
"Jamie, glad I caught you," he sounded out-of-breath, "There's a phone
call for you. They say it's real urgent."
"From who?" she frowned.
"He says his name's Dillon."
Nothing else needed to be said as she sprinted back to her dressing
room.
Ten minutes later, as the glint of the California sunset shined
through the windows, the phone was ringing in the private office of Dr.
Alfred Mortinson, chief nuclear physicist of the Pacific Institute of
Technology. He wondered for a moment whether or not he should ignore it.
He'd spent most of the day preparing for a conference to explain the
breakthroughs he'd made public some months back in nuclear fusion, and
once again, he was finding it hard to come up with little white-lies to
explain how he'd been able to achieve the breakthroughs. None of them
had been achieved as a result of his own initiative. But there was no
way he could ever tell the truth about just who had helped him on those
computations. Not if he wanted to avoid being locked away as a crazy
scientist who'd gone off the deep end.
Reluctantly, he decided to answer it, "Hello?"
"Dr. Mortinson, it's Jamie Hamilton."
"Jamie!" he leaned forward in his chair in pleasant surprise, "Good to
hear from you. It's been a while."
"I know," she said, "Look, I haven't got too much time to explain. I
just received a call from two mutual friends of ours."
Mortinson slowly grinned, "Troy and Dillon finally back again?"
"They just landed," she said, "And they need help. There are three
other people who've come with them, so my car would never do. I'll need
to borrow that passenger van of yours."
"No problem," he said, "For them, I'd do anything. Come by the
Institute and you can pick it up."
"He also asked if you could come out too," Jamie went on, "They said
they needed some advice right away on something extremely urgent."
Forty miles outside Los Angeles in the hills and cliffs of the
California desert, the Galactica shuttle had been parked inside a cave.
At the pilot's console, Troy kept looking ahead at the expanse of desert,
waiting for the moment to activate the invisibility screen that would
keep the shuttle safely hidden from any possible discovery for up to a
month.
"How long is this wait going to be?" Cain's voice impatiently barked
from the rear of the shuttle.
"Earth vehicles travel slow, Commander," Troy didn't look back, "Just
be patient. Dillon's already contacted the people who'll be picking us
up."
At the other end, the Juggernaut let out an exasperated sigh and went
back to where Cassiopeia was attending Sheba. His daughter was lying on
a stretcher, her expression unchanged as always.
"More waiting, more waiting," he grumbled, "I'll feel a lot better
once we find the people who can help."
"I know," Cassipoeia nodded as she calmly injected some intravenous
nutrition into Sheba's arm, "But after all these yahrens Cain, another
few centars shouldn't hurt."
"I guess not," Cain seemed to relax, "Cassie, I can't begin to thank
you."
"For what?" she looked up and frowned.
"For just being here to help," her one-time lover said, "Just like you
gave yourself to help me all those yahrens ago after I lost Bethany,
you're doing it again for Sheba. I owe you a lot."
"No you don't, Cain," Cassiopeia shook her head, "You don't owe me a
thing. I'm doing this now because it's something I have to do. Sheba
had become one of the closest friends I'd had aboard the Galactica."
"Really?" Cain seemed slightly surprised, "There was no....bitterness
over the past?"
"None," she smiled, "None at all. I suppose part of it initially was
because she knew that my relationship with Starbuck pretty much meant
that she could feel secure I wouldn't go rushing back to you once you
returned again, but we soon found out we had a lot of things in common."
"Oh?"
"Yes," the Chief Medical Officer looked down at Sheba, "It didn't take
us long to realize that we were both madly in love with respective
warriors who practically wanted to get themselves killed doing all the
dangerous jobs. Me with Starbuck. Her with Apollo."
Cain was silent for a moment before going on, "How did Starbuck
disappear?"
She let out a sigh of regret over the painful memory, "It was just
before the only major engagement we've had with the Cylons since what
happened to Sheba. About a yahren later, Starbuck and Boomer were on a
routine patrol and ran into the first advance probe of an attack phalanx.
Starbuck took a bad hit and was forced down. Boomer had to leave to get
back and warn the Galactica, but he had Starbuck on his tracking and
headed for some habitable planets nearby."
"So he survived the engagement?"
Cassiopeia shrugged, "I'll never know. As soon as Boomer reached the
Galactica the attack force was throwing everything they could at us. We
lost another dozen civilian ships from the Fleet in that engagement.
Boomer pleaded with the Commander to go back and try to find him since
there was a good chance he was still alive, but Adama was firm that it
couldn't be done. The Cylon attack meant they had to keep pushing
forward and not waste any time. By the time we'd fought the attack force
off, it was too late. We were too far from the region."
He looked at her with empathy, "I know that had to be rough for you."
"Oh yeah," her voice faded to a whisper, "Very. If it weren't the
responsibilities of my job, I might have---" she abruptly stopped and
suddenly blushed in embarrassment.
Cain smiled thinly, "Ended up like Sheba?"
"Cain, I'm sorry. I didn't mean---"
"Don't apologize, Cassie," he said gently, "Don't apologize. Just be
glad you survived."
At the front end, the hatch opened and Dillon re-entered the shuttle.
"Shouldn't be much longer," he said to Troy as he settled next to his
friend in the other pilot's seat, "Jamie said she'd need some extra time
to get the right vehicle from Dr. Mortinson. Her car wouldn't be big
enough to handle the five of us. Especially not someone in Sheba's
condition."
"I guess not," Troy's tone was neutral, "I guess not."
Dillon frowned slightly, "Something bothering you?"
Troy cast a quick glance at the back of the shuttle, "I don't know,
Dillon. For some reason, and I know it's terrible for me to think this,
but what Cassiopeia said before in the Commander's quarters was
absolutely right. I am afraid to know what happened to my father, and
there's almost a part of me that's hoping...." he trailed off, not
wanting to say the terrible thought that was going through his mind.
His friend calmly exhaled and put a hand on his shoulder, "Troy," he
said, "On that day you opened up to me sixteen yahrens ago, and first
shared that secret with me about Sheba still being alive, you told me
something that you said you'd never had the nerve to admit to anyone
before. Not Starbuck, not Athena, not your father or grandfather or
anyone else. You said, and I quote, that you wished to all the Lords of
Kobol that your father had married Sheba ten yahrens earlier because she
was the only person you ever met that you wished you could call mother.
And it's pretty clear to me that you meant that, because you wouldn't
have withheld that little painful detail about Bojay's death if you
really didn't love and care so much about her."
Troy looked up from his console and stared at his friend.
"So with that in mind, let me tell you this," Dillon calmly went on,
"If you don't stop thinking about that horrible, selfish thought of
yours, then I'm going to punch you in the mouth before Cain has the
chance to."
The commander's grandson smiled wryly and slowly nodded, "And I'd
deserve it. Thanks buddy."
From outside the hatch, they could hear the sound of a car horn in the
distance, followed by the noise of an engine and tires rolling across the
sandy, rocky road leading up to the cave.
"Looks as though they're here," Troy punched several buttons and rose
from his chair, "All right listen up everyone. We're ready to leave now.
And Commander, Cassiopeia, please let Dillon and I do all the talking
until we need you."
"Yes sir," Cain said sarcastically under his breath as he and
Cassiopeia began moving Sheba's stretcher toward the front.
Troy and Dillon stepped out and saw a medium sized passenger van pull
up to a stop in front of them. The front passenger door opened and Jamie
stepped out.
"Jamie," Dillon impulsively hugged the woman who had become (as she'd
quipped one night in bed) his 'long-distance lover.', "Great to see you
again."
"You've been away too long," she smiled back and then gave Troy an
embrace that was purely platonic, "Welcome back, Troy."
"Hi Jamie," Troy smiled.
"Troy, Dillon," Mortinson emerged from the driver side and came up to
them.
"Dr. Mortinson, are we glad you came," Troy said with relief as he
shook the scientist's hand, "We really need some help this time."
"This should be an interesting switch," Mortinson seemed bemused, "How
can I help?"
Just then, Cassiopeia and Cain emerged from the shuttle, moving the
stretcher carrying Sheba toward them.
"Dr. Mortinson, Jamie Hamilton," Troy motioned, "This is Dr.
Cassiopeia, the Chief Medical Officer of our Fleet and Commander Cain of
the Battlestar Pegasus."
The two Earth natives came up to them with their hands extended.
"It's an honor to meet someone else from where Troy and Dillon have
come," Mortinson shook hands with the two first, "Welcome to Earth."
Cassiopeia was quick to respond pleasantly, while Cain kept his
expression guarded as he reciprocated.
Mortinson immediately took note of Cain's elaborate battle uniform
with the gold epaulets on the shoulders, "I suppose I'd be safe in
assuming you're one of their best soldiers."
"That's right," Cain said, causing Cassiopeia to raise an eyebrow.
The old Cain would have responded with the best. Not this time though.
It almost seemed as though the whole painful incident had taken away the
Juggernaut's ego.
At that point, both Jamie and Mortinson noticed the stretcher, and the
prostate form of Sheba.
"Doctor, Jamie, could you help her into the back?" Troy gently
inquired before they could say anything, "I'll explain as soon as we get
moving."
"Certainly," Mortinson's tone was cautious, "But you'll have to leave
that stretcher behind. That'll never fit."
The four of them unstrapped Sheba from the stretcher and gingerly
helped her to her feet. With Cain supporting her on one side and
Cassiopeia on the other, they began moving her toward the van.
As they drew closer, Sheba's head suddenly darted around and her
vacant eyes suddenly took on an edge of terror that Cassiopeia remembered
all too well. Instantly she began to wildly thrash about, trying to
shake the both of them off, her throat emitting guttural, frightened
noises.
"Good Lord," Cassiopeia blurted, "Get hold of her! I need to give her
another sedative!"
"Baby, don't," Cain pleaded as he tried to hang on to her. Troy and
Dillon then rushed in and both grabbed hold of Sheba while Cassiopeia
hastily pulled a syringe out from her Medkit.
Mortinson and Jamie watched in wide-eyed confusion as the Chief
Medical Officer managed to administer the sedative. Instantly, Sheba's
thrashing stopped and she went limp.
"I know why she reacted that way," Cassiopeia tried to catch her
breath, "It's the whole terrain around here. This place is exactly like
that planet where the whole thing happened. She must have had some kind
of mental flashback."
"Then we'll be sure to keep her away from the desert at all costs,"
Troy grunted, "Dr. Mortinson, you join us in the back and I'll explain
everything. Dillon, you ride up front with Jamie."
As darkness came over and the van proceeded back to Los Angeles, Troy
explained as concisely as he could, the situation that confronted them.
"It's important that we find a specialist in psychiatric medicine,"
Troy said, "Someone who can get a better handle on how to treat Sheba.
And most important, someone we can trust to keep a secret."
"And you need my help to find that specialist," Mortinson tried not to
look at Sheba's unconscious form resting on Cain's lap at that moment.
"Exactly."
The scientist absently tugged his moustache, "Well, there's only one
psychiatrist I know personally. That's Lew Jackson, the head of the
psychiatric unit at LA Memorial. He and I took pre-med classes together
at college before I decided I wanted to enter physics instead."
"Is he good?" Cain jumped into the conversation for the first time.
"Probably the best one you could find in this part of the country,
Commander," Mortinson said, "I haven't talked to him in a while, but I've
heard he's been working on some experimental drugs for treating victims
of severe trauma and shock. But as to how I could explain this whole
scenario to him coherently, might present some problems."
"I'm sure of that," Troy nodded, "But we've been left with no other
choice, Doctor. Our facilities in the Fleet can't handle a case like
this."
"I believe you," the scientist said with empathy, "But in order for a
psychiatrist to do his job properly, he has to know all the facts.
There's no way you could succeed without trying to convince him of who
you are and where you come from."
"That shouldn't present a problem," Cain spoke up again as he
continued to idly stroke his daughter's head resting on his lap, "The
easiest way to convince him is to bring him into space. Do things that
for an Earth native would defy all other kinds of explanations."
"Which would involve forcing Dr. Jackson to be taken against his will
for a ride inside the shuttle, in order to understand our predicament,"
Troy grunted, "That's not the kind of situation I was hoping to get
myself into."
"I don't think there's much choice," Cassiopeia said bluntly, "The
less time we waste getting a specialist to understand our situation, and
the sooner we can start some kind of treatment for Sheba, the better off
we'll all be."
"If your friend Sheba really needs help that badly, Troy, then I think
Dr. Cassiopeia is correct," Mortinson said, "I can find a way of inviting
Dr. Jackson to my house in Brentwood where he can get a first look at
Sheba, and then, that's the time to stage the act that will convince him
of what he has to know. I think he's open-minded enough to accept the
truth when it's presented properly to him. He's not the kind of person
who'd think he's being subjected to some kind of hoax pulled-off by the
government."
"When can you get in touch with him?" Cain inquired.
Mortinson shrugged, "Tonight, if you like. I might not be able to get
him over until tomorrow at the earliest, but at least we can get things
started."
"All right then," Troy nodded, "If it's not a problem Doctor, then I
think we should stay at your house. Dillon can stay at Jamie's
apartment."
"No problem at all Troy," the physicist smiled, "I owe you and Dillon
too much to not do anything you ask of me."
"Why just Dillon at her place?" Cassiopeia lifted an eyebrow.
Troy motioned his head toward the front and his expression grew coy.
"I see," the Chief Medical Officer shook her head in amazement, "It
looks as though you've really learned how to make friends with the
natives."
At the front-end of the van, another intense conversation was going on
between Dillon and Jamie.
"Who is she, exactly?" she asked as she kept her eyes on the road.
Her lover let out a sigh, "Jamie, you remember my accidentally
mentioning that secret Troy once told me in connection with Captain
Apollo's death, that I asked you never to pry out of me?"
"Yes," she nodded and then glanced at him quickly as she put things
together, "Ah, I see. You were talking about her, when you said the
death of Troy's father was difficult for a lot of people."
"She was going to marry Captain Apollo, and she was with him on the
mission where he was presumed killed," Dillon said, "When they found her,
she was literally out-of-her mind. She's been that way ever since."
"That's awful," the attractive reporter sadly shook her head, "And
you've never been able to do anything for her?"
"There was sort of a reluctance to even try for a long time," Dillon
kept his voice low, "Not until her father, Commander Cain unexpectedly
returned from the dead."
"He what?" confusion entered Jamie's voice.
Dillon laughed without much mirth, "I'll try to explain it as easily
as I can. Commander Cain is probably the greatest warrior in the history
of our people. Thirty yahr--years ago," once again, the blonde
lieutenant found it difficult to adjust to Earth terminology, "He and his
ship the Pegasus, the only other battlestar left in addition to the
Galactica, disappeared while battling the Cylons. But a week ago, he
finally showed up again, and that forced revealing the truth about what
had happened to his daughter."
"I see. That couldn't have been easy for any of you."
"No," he admitted, "But his return did lead to an unexpected surprise
that should interest you, with regard to our old friend Xavier."
"Oh?" her ears perked up with interest as she moved the van over into
the right lane for the exit that would take them on the interstate for
Los Angeles. On three occasions in the past, Jamie had found herself
caught up in the unsuccessful pursuit of the renegade Councilman.
"Xavier came out of hiding once he learned Cain was back. He was
hoping to enlist Cain's support for a time-travel operation, because Cain
has that kind of reputation for reckless daring that might make him
receptive to such a scheme."
"And Cain turned him down?"
"The idea no, but as far as working with him, yes. He decided to turn
over Xavier to Troy and me, but Xavier managed to escape and kill a
warrior. He holed himself up in one of the most sensitive areas of the
Pegasus and threatened to destroy the ship unless he received amnesty for
his crimes."
"What happened?"
Dillon let out another chuckle, "Cain is also not the type of person
to ever think of bargaining. He pointed out a way of infiltrating
Xavier's hiding place, and Troy and I went in and took him off-guard.
But in the ensuing scuffle, he was accidentally shot dead."
Jamie almost lost her concentration on the road, "He's dead?"
"To borrow a phrase you taught me from one of those famous Earth
authors, he's dead as a doornail. Our whole problem with him is over
forever."
She skipped a beat before replying, "This is probably a terrible thing
for me to say, but it served the bastard right."
"I don't think it's terrible," Dillon said.
"Agreed then," Jamie conceded, "But you said Cain didn't turn the idea
of time-travel down."
"That was before Adama finally found the nerve to tell him about
Sheba. Once Cain knew that his daughter was still alive, he dropped the
whole matter. Cain only considered it because he felt he needed
something to give the rest of his life some kind of sense-of-purpose, and
if he thought Sheba was dead, he wasn't going to have any
sense-of-purpose, given the current state of our Earth policy."
"So Adama played his trump card and got him to give up the idea,"
Jamie noted.
"For the time being," Dillon cast a glance at the rear of the van, "If
there's no headway on curing Sheba, then God only knows what Cain might
feel like doing again."
Chapter Four
Cain awoke the next morning in the guest bedroom of Dr. Mortinson's
upscale house in the Los Angeles suburb of Brentwood, and for a long
moment had trouble adjusting to the sunlight streaming through the
window. It was only then, that the Juggernaut realized that it had been
more than thirty-five yahrens since he'd last spent a night on any kind
of planet, and awaken to the sight of sunlight. Not since the day before
he'd taken the Fifth Fleet out from Caprica for the Battle of Molocay.
He went over to the window and delicately raised it. The morning scene
of people moving about, and the sounds of birds chirping and vehicular
traffic going by brought back more memories of life on Caprica to him.
The technology and the buildings might have been two thousand yahrens
behind the times by his standards, but after all those yahrens crammed
inside the Pegasus, he found it to be a welcome change.
And as he took a breath of the morning air that was slightly tinged
with the industrial waste that Troy had said Los Angeles was noted for,
he was reminded again how good it felt to get away from recycled oxygen
for the first time in more than thirty-five yahrens as well.
As soon as he finished putting on his uniform, he heard a knock on the
door, and Cassiopeia's gentle voice inquire, "Cain?"
The Juggernaut adjusted his jacket and opened the door. The Chief
Medical Officer was wearing a dress loaned to her the previous night by
Jamie, since she wouldn't be travelling back into space for a long time
to come.
"Yeah?"
"Dr. Mortinson says the specialist will be coming by in about a
centar, our time."
"That's good," Cain stretched himself, "The sooner the better. How's
Sheba feeling now?"
"Troy and I took turns watching her last night. She's pretty much
back to what she was like before her outburst yesterday."
"Back to the same status quo of the last sixteen yahrens," he grunted,
"God, I can't imagine what it's like to live like that for so long."
She came up and lightly squeezed his arm, "Maybe today's the day
things will finally turn around. When the specialist comes, you and Troy
will perform the experiment to convince him of where we come from. I'll
stay here and look after Sheba until Dillon comes by later this
afternoon."
"I hope so. If things don't get better soon, I'd---" he then trailed
off.
"You'd what?" Cassiopeia decided she couldn't let the matter drop,
"Start thinking of occupying yourself with a crazy time-travel scheme
again?"
"Cassie---"
"Now you listen to this, Cain," her tone grew brusque, "If I so much
as even hear you think of that idea again, I'm going to see to it that
Adama has you retired permanently as unfit for command."
He looked at his one-time lover without saying anything for a long
moment, then let out a disarming chuckle, "I'll bet you would."
Cassiopeia seemed to relax slightly.
"Don't worry, Cassie," Cain went on, "That idea's out of my head,
completely. I'm...at the point where I don't care anymore about going
out with a blaze of glory or trying to win the war. That's the attitude
that kept me away from the people I loved for too long. Not just with
Bethany and Sheba, but," he took a breath, "But with you too, Cassie."
She stiffened slightly and bit her lip.
"Come on," she quickly changed the subject, "Have some breakfast. You
might find the food they eat here rather interesting."
The Juggernaut paused for a brief reflection before following her out.
It almost seemed as though she'd been afraid of discussing the feelings
they'd once shared for each other.
Is she still devoted to Starbuck's memory that much? he mused as he
entered the dining room of the house. Not that it really mattered to
him at that point. His concern for helping Sheba had pushed all
consideration of trying to renew an old relationship with Cassiopeia out
of his mind completely. When he'd made his remark to her, he'd only been
trying to make a point as to why he'd never think of resorting to a
reckless scheme like time-travel, ever again.
Or had he? Was Cassiopeia really out of his system as much as he
thought she was?
"Good morning, Commander," Troy smiled as soon as Cain entered, "Help
yourself to some breakfast."
Cain sat down and looked at his plate and immediately frowned. On some
wrapping paper was a round object. In between two doughy-bread-like
objects were a colorful set of items that didn't resemble anything Cain
could ever recall eating in his life.
"What do you call this, Captain?" he cautiously held it up, to inspect
it. The object was very warm.
"The colloquial term is an Egg McMuffin, sir," Troy tried not to break
into hysterics, "It's the delicacy of a restaurant that specializes in
making its food within a matter of microns, called McDonalds."
"Try it," Cassiopeia urged him, "I had one. They're good. But I
wouldn't recommend them every day."
Cain looked at her with a quizzical expression, and then cautiously
took a bite. He chewed the morsel repeatedly, trying to get the full
flavor of it. As he swallowed, he slowly nodded his head in guarded
approval.
"That's....rather unique."
Before anyone could say anything else, the doorbell rang and Dr.
Mortinson emerged from the living room to go answer it.
Troy and Cassiopeia half-expected it to be Dillon or Jamie, but when
they saw it was a balding man in his late forties dressed in a gray
business suit, they realized that the psychiatrist had finally arrived.
"Good morning Lew," Mortinson shook hands with his former college
classmate, "You're earlier than I expected."
There was a cautious expression on the face of Dr. Lewis Jackson as he
reciprocated the handshake, "The way I figured Al, since I don't usually
get a phone call at ten PM from a man I haven't seen since the last USC
alumni meeting, telling me he has an interesting psychiatric case in his
guest bedroom and may I please come over the next morning, this was one
Saturday I wasn't going to sleep in. You've had me up all night
wondering what this could possibly be."
"Well I can assure you of this, Lew," the nuclear scientist said with
a serious expression, "None of your guesses could have been correct."
"Try me."
Mortinson let out an almost sheepish sigh and led the psychiatrist
into the dining room. As soon as Jackson saw Cain and Troy resplendent
in their strange-looking brown uniforms, he instantly began to frown.
"Now before I explain anything further, Lew," Mortinson put an arm
around his friend's shoulder, "I think maybe, you and I should have a
nice talk about old times at USC. About those lunches between classes
when you first told me that you didn't think I was cut out for medicine."
"Al," Jackson's face grew cold, "I've never cared for patients who
like to dance around the subject when I try to help them with their
problems, and I like it even less with non-patients. Now get to the
point right now, because if I discover that my weekend's been
shot-to-hell by a wild goose chase, there'll be hell to pay."
"Well those old talks are the point, Lew. You remember what you said
when you caught me perusing a copy of the newest Ray Bradbury novel
instead of reading the next-day's assignment in our medical textbook?"
Jackson shrugged with an incredulous expression and rubbed his chin,
"I believe my words were something to the effect that it seemed as though
you were more interested in what there was in outer space than the
principles of human inner space."
"Correct," Mortinson smiled, "And on that note, let me introduce you
to these three people. Captain Troy, Commander Cain, and Dr. Cassiopeia.
All of whom have come from a very long distance just to meet you."
The two Galacticans, Troy and Cassiopeia stepped forward with friendly
expressions, while Cain remained seated at the dining table with an
expression that was more neutral from trying to cover-up his general
feelings of impatience.
"Dr. Jackson," Troy said, "It's a pleasure to meet you. And I hope
you'll forgive me for this later, but for the moment there isn't any
other way to convince you of what you need to know."
The warrior pulled out his pistol which had been set to the lightest
possible stun setting.
The psychiatrist opened his mouth slightly in dumbfounded surprise and
started to back away. But before he could bolt for the door, Troy had
fired, and Jackson dropped to the floor.
"God, I hated to do that," Troy winced as he put his pistol back while
Cassiopeia and Mortinson attended to the unconscious Jackson and got him
to his feet.
"Hades Hole to that," Cain grunted as he washed down the last of the
Egg McMuffin with orange juice, "From just a micron's study, I don't
think this Dr. Jackson would have willingly volunteered for the ride."
"I guess not," Troy admitted as he went over to the other three, "I'll
help put him in the minivan, Cassiopeia. You get back to looking after
Sheba while we're away."
"No problem. Jamie and Dillon will be by later. She promised to take
me shopping for some things I'll be needing, if I'm going to be on Earth
for the long-term."
As Mortinson and Troy took hold of Jackson and carried him out to the
garage door, Cain lingered for a brief moment with his one-time lover.
"Cassie," he said, "I was just thinking that maybe you and I ought to
have another talk later on. About us."
"Is there anything else that needs to be discussed?" he saw the uneasy
expression return to her face.
"I think so," the Juggernaut nodded, "I think I've left too many loose
ends about the things I did these last thirty yahrens that I need to
explain better than I have, since my dramatic return."
Cassiopeia was silent for a moment and then nodded.
"All right, Cain. We'll do that."
She then kissed him lightly on the cheek and disappeared into the
guest bedroom where Sheba was still resting. Cain lingered for another
second looking after her, until he finally walked into the doorway that
led to the garage.
Two hours later, Dr. Lewis Jackson awoke and found himself staring
into the smiling face of his one-time college classmate.
"Sorry Lew. You never would have come along if I'd told you about
this."
"You lousy son-of-a-bitch!" the psychiatrist bolted up from his chair
as if he were ready to strangle Mortinson and then stopped and did a
double take as he looked about his surroundings. The various computer
terminals and their blinking light displays were of a kind that he had
never seen the likes of before.
As his gaze shifted forward, he could see Troy and Cain at the front,
looking ahead at the expanse of starlit blackness through the window.
Slowly, Jackson made his way forward. And then, his mouth dropped
open and his face contorted in disbelief when he saw the sight of the
Earth beneath him. They were far enough from the planet that the entire
circumference of the globe was in his field of vision.
"Holy Mother of Christ," he whispered as he continued to stare at the
Earth. Through the cloud cover, he could make out the European continent
and Africa, and he was reminded of the photographs from the moonshot
voyages he had seen so many times. Only this was not a photograph. It
was frighteningly, beautifully real.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Mortinson grinned as he made his way to the
front to join them, "I've been waiting four years ever since I first met
Troy to do this. Just as beautiful as I always figured."
"Good Lord," Jackson looked at Cain and Troy. The Galactica warrior
was smiling reassuringly, while the Pegasus commander's neutral
expression remained constant. "The two of you are----"
"We're as human as you are, Doctor," Troy said, "But we have come from
a long ways. The other end of this galaxy as a matter of fact. If we'd
simply told that to you though, I think you would have been marching out
the door in anger, instead of accompanying us to where our shuttle is
hidden."
"Definitely," Jackson nodded, "Definitely. Where...where are you
taking me?"
"This is not an abduction, Dr. Jackson," Cain said, "We only needed to
take you for a brief visit so you could understand where we come from.
We'll be back on Earth in only seven or eight centars."
"Eight what?"
"Eight hours," Troy corrected, "You'll have to forgive Commander Cain,
Doctor. This is only his first time on Earth. After four years I've
learned to adjust a lot easier to your terminology."
"Four years?" Jackson's eyes widened, "You people have been coming to
Earth for four years?"
"Exactly," Mortinson nodded, "And I have to confess Lew, I'm not as
brilliant a scientist as the press says I am. All the major
breakthroughs in fusion technology that I've made in the last four years
came entirely from Troy and his friends."
"I can imagine," the psychiatrist mumbled, "I can imagine. But my
God, why do you need to even reveal yourself to me?"
"Because we need your help, Doctor," Cain said with grim seriousness.
The whole situation suddenly struck Jackson as funny and he began to
laugh, "Wait a minute. You people have come from the other end of the
galaxy. You're obviously a technologically advanced race that can do
things like travel this far into space with ships like this, and you can
help a nuclear scientist like Al Mortinson unlock all the secrets of
nuclear fusion, and you need my help?"
"Dr. Jackson," Troy sighed, "I wish I could explain to you the full
details of where we come from, and what we've been going through that's
led us to Earth, but that will have to wait for another time because it
would only complicate things and keep us here for hours. I'll simplify
matters by saying that one area of specialized knowledge that has become
lost to our people is psychiatric medicine. We're in need of the
services of a specialist who might be able to provide some answers that
will help us regain that knowledge."
"And above all, to help my daughter," Cain jumped in, "Right now,
she's back in Dr. Mortinson's house resting, but for the last sixteen
yahrens---"
"Years," Troy corrected again. The Juggernaut glared slightly at him
for being interrupted, then resumed.
"She suffered some kind of traumatic breakdown and literally has not
spoken a word since. We haven't been able to treat her properly, except
to just lock her up in a padded room and keep her body functioning,
because we don't know what to do."
Jackson looked him in the eye as if he found that piece of information
more incredible than the revelation that he was flying in space with
beings from another world.
"No proper psychiatric evaluation?" he finally asked.
"None," Cain shook his head and a note of bitterness entered his
voice, "Just treated as permanently insane and locked away."
"You let that happen to your own daughter?"
"I wasn't there at the time," Cain said, "I didn't even know about
this until a few days ago."
"Really," the psychiatrist settled into his chair and seemed to be
developing a keen interest in the subject, "How come?"
"That's another story that will have to wait until a more convenient
time," Cain was struggling to remain patient, "Will you please help us?"
Jackson brought his hands together in contemplation, "Why me?"
"You were convenient, Doctor," Troy said, "You're acquainted with Dr.
Mortinson, who is one of only a handful of people in the entire world
we've bothered to make contact with. The fewer people we can reveal
ourselves to, the better."
"Why's that?" Jackson seemed slightly amused, "You're not by any
chance the vanguard for an invasion force, are you Captain Troy?"
"No Lew," Mortinson smiled disarmingly, "You'll soon find out that
they're the ones keeping the potential invaders away from us."
Jackson looked at his friend with a wry expression, and then returned
his attention to the breathtaking vista of the full Earth.
"Well, Doctor?" Cain seemed to plead, "Will you help us?"
The psychiatrist didn't look at him, "I assume you want me to keep
this confidential."
"I seriously doubt anyone would believe you if you chose not to keep
it confidential, Doctor," Troy pointed out.
Jackson smiled at Troy, "Touche. Very well, Captain, I will offer my
services to you wherever you need them. However, I do ask one thing in
return before I begin."
"Yes?"
The psychiatrist looked around the shuttle and it's electronic
equipment with admiration, "How long would it take for this thing to go
to the moon and back?"
"That's only a hop-skip-and-a-jump," Troy said, "We could be on the
lunar surface in ten minutes."
Jackson broke into a smile, "Then take me there, Captain. Let me go
to the moon and set foot on it, and I will be grateful to you for the
rest of my life."
"Doctor, please," Cain's agitation began to show itself, "My daughter
needs immediate---"
Troy abruptly clamped his hand on the Juggernaut's arm and shook his
head. Before the revelation about Sheba, Cain would have shaken off such
a gesture with an angry remark, but this time, it had its intended effect
and he fell silent.
"Dr. Jackson, we'd be happy to honor that request in light of what
we'll be asking you to do for us. Any particular spot in the moon you
have in mind?"
Jackson's eyes widened as if he hadn't expected that question. He
again brought his hands together and said, "Now that I think of it, there
is. I grew up in Ohio, not too far from a little town called Wapakoneta,
which is the home of the first man to walk on the moon, Neil Armstrong.
If you can locate the spot where he and Buzz Aldrin landed in the Sea of
Tranquility, I'd really get a kick out of that."
"No problem," Troy punched several buttons and the shuttle began to
move on a new heading.
As Troy promised, ten minutes later, the shuttle had come to a stop on
the powdery surface of the moon.
"The Eagle has landed," Mortinson quipped as soon as the engines had
been shut off.
"Incredible," Jackson looked out the window at the lunar expanse ahead
of him in awe, "Absolutely incredible."
Troy looked at his scanner, "I think the original landing site is only
about a hundred meters ahead of us. Dr. Mortinson, Dr. Jackson, if
you'll accompany me to the rear compartment, we'll suit up for a brief
trip outside. Commander Cain, do you mind staying here for now?"
The Juggernaut made an impatient wave of his hand and said nothing.
The other three walked to the back and sealed themselves off from the
forward compartment. Troy went over to a storage locker, pressed several
buttons and the door slid open to reveal three EVA suits.
"Not as bulky as the NASA suits," Mortinson noted as he removed his
suit jacket and reached for the space garment, "Are they that difficult
to put on?"
"Shouldn't be, but I'll help just the same."
Troy spent the next ten minutes helping the two middle-aged Earth
natives don the EVA suits. Once the helmets were in place, he switched
on the oxygen flow for both men, and went to work donning his own suit.
Several minutes later, he opened the hatch, and the three of them stepped
out onto the surface.
There were expressions and gasps of awed amazement from Mortinson and
Jackson as the remains of the first lunar landing from fifteen years ago
loomed just ahead of them. The discarded lower stage of the lunar module
Eagle rose only ten feet from the ground, and in the area ahead of it,
they could see still standing proudly, the American flag that had been
erected by Armstrong and Aldrin.
"Sweet Jesus, all their footprints still there after all this time."
Jackson looked down at the surface.
"No wind on the moon to disturb them," Mortinson said as they moved
forward.
They moved past the long-dead television camera that had sent live
pictures of the first moonwalk to millions of viewers on Earth and then
made their way in the one-sixth gravity past large chunks of debris and
garbage that had been jettisoned by the astronauts before they had left.
Finally, they reached the descent stage. The ladder Neil Armstrong had
climbed down to make his historic walk was still attached, and underneath
it, the commemorative plaque.
"Apollo XI from the planet Earth. We came here in peace for all
mankind," Jackson read in appropriately solemn tones.
Troy felt a strange sensation come over him, as he heard his father's
name used in a drastically different context that was familiar to every
Earth native. When he had first learned that America's space program of
moon expeditions had been called the Apollo program, he'd actually felt
the first note of reassurance that somewhere, there was a connection
between Earth and their brethren aboard the Galactica that could be
tapped into one day.
As he thought about it again, he found himself thinking more and more
about his father, and how much he still missed him to this day. Having
never met or known his biological father, who had abandoned Serina once
she had revealed her pregnancy, he'd never had any of the mental blocs
other adopted children had over the parents who had raised them. From
the micron when he'd first met Apollo on the smoldering wreck-filled
landscape of Caprica, and long before his mother and the Galactica
warrior had fallen in love, he'd never thought of anyone else that he
wished could be his father. As a result, when Apollo and Serina became
sealed, he couldn't have been happier. And when he'd been forced to cope
with the tragic death of his mother, there was probably no other person
but Apollo who could have made him adjust to that traumatic experience.
Adjusting to Apollo's death, and the mental breakdown of the only
woman he'd ever wished could be a substitute mother for him had taken a
lot out of Troy. It left him unwilling to establish new friendships
beyond the ones he'd already had at that point. And once Starbuck
disappeared, and his aunt Athena was killed later, that circle had grown
even smaller. It had now reached the point where his grandfather and
Dillon were the only two people he felt comfortable opening up to about
any of the things more personal to him.
He had long resigned himself to the idea that he had simply played
things safe for the sake of his own peace of mind, and that he could feel
no regrets over the lack of extending himself to new people. But as he
now had to confront the prospect of learning the details of what had
happened to the most important person in his life, he now wondered if his
current peace of mind would be a lot more secure if he'd only had more
friends like Dillon to fall back on for support.
As the impromptu moonwalk ended, and the giddy Earth scientists
reboarded the shuttle, it was a question that lingered heavily on Troy's
mind all the way back to Earth.
Chapter Five
It was late in the day when the four men returned to Mortinson's house
in Brentwood, where Dillon, Jamie and Cassiopeia were waiting. After a
long conversation with the Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Jackson was
escorted into the guest bedroom for his first examination of Sheba. At
that point, Troy decided that propriety dictated that Cain be left alone
to learn whatever news Jackson would bring first, so he, Dillon, Jamie
and Mortinson immediately left again to have dinner at a nearby
restaurant.
As Cain waited, the psychiatrist and the Chief Medical Officer emerged
a half-hour later. Jackson's expression was slightly incredulous.
"Well, Doctor?" Cain anxiously got to his feet, "Can you do anything?"
"I'd like to ask you a couple questions before I answer that,
Commander Cain," Jackson said, "Has there ever been any history of mental
illness or depression in your family?"
Cain frowned slightly, "What has that got to do with---"
"A lot, Cain," Cassiopeia interrupted, "A lot."
Hearing it from her made the Juggernaut feel slightly easier, "There's
never been a case of insanity on my side, or that of Sheba's mother."
"I didn't say insanity, Commander," Jackson snapped, "I said mental
illness or depression. There is a big difference. Did you or your late
wife ever go through a period of depression at any point in your life?"
Cain stiffened again, "Look Doctor, I---"
"Commander, if I'm to help your daughter, I have to know these things.
Now from what Dr. Cassiopeia has told me, Sheba's breakdown stems from a
single traumatic incident sixteen years ago. If what I'm beginning to
suspect is true, I might be able to come up with a method of treatment
without even taking her to LA Memorial for tests. But you need to give
me some family history before I can make that judgment. Keep it confined
to general terms though, since I'm a long ways from understanding the
nuances of your civilization."
The Juggernaut sucked in his breath and settled himself back into the
chair, "Okay, I admit that I once took some medicine for depression a
long time ago, after my wife died. Totally mild, but I had to keep the
whole thing secret or else there would have been grounds by our governing
Council to relieve me of my command. It didn't last long though."
Cassiopeia was startled by the revelation. She had first met Cain
during that traumatic period, and had never suspected he was taking
medication. Unless....
In a flash, Cassiopeia realized for the first time why Cain had been
so anxious to accept her offer of socialator's help.
"Thank you, Commander," Jackson seemed grateful, "That helps a great
deal. And based on what Dr. Cassiopeia told me about what she knows of
Sheba's prior behavior before the incident that caused this, I can give
you my preliminary assessment."
"Which is?" Cain was trying to overcome the embarrassment he felt over
having to reveal information that he'd always been determined to keep
secret.
"Your daughter is not insane," Jackson said, "She's suffering from the
worst case of Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder that I have ever seen in my
life. Are you familiar with that kind of term or concept?"
Cain shook his head, "No. The title seems self-explanatory though.
Some set of symptoms following a traumatic incident."
"For the most part," Jackson admitted as he sat down and began to
polish his glasses, "I've treated many soldiers who suffered from the
same thing when they had all kinds of reactions to horrible incidents
they went through during wartime. And because your daughter's case is so
extreme, it's little wonder that it could be confused with outright
insanity. But it isn't. I believe your daughter has been sane and aware
of her surroundings since the day of her breakdown. Her present
condition is the result of a hideous combination of factors that I've
never seen come together in any other patient I've treated."
"Which are?"
"Well, after what you've told me, and what Cassiopeia told me of
Sheba's general attitude following your so-called 'disappearance' some
thirty years ago, it seems clear to me that her genetic background would
indicate a high susceptibility to the things we associate with general
forms of mental illness. Depression, moodiness, feelings of guilt.
These are symptoms that don't simply come out of the blue, Commander.
They tend to manifest themselves in individuals who's chemical and
genetic composition makes them susceptible to it. Like you following the
death of your wife, Sheba's moody attitude when you developed your,
ah.... relationship with Dr. Cassiopeia," he cast an awkward glance at
the Chief Medical Officer who was listening with rapt attention, "And
then her attitude of depression and moodiness following your
disappearance. I would naturally have to run necessary tests, but I
think it's clear that her genetic make-up is of a type that once exposed
to a trauma of the kind that we associate with Post Traumatic Stress
Disorder, the end results are more catastrophic than they might
ordinarily be."
"A susceptibility to guilt and depression so massive, that she
literally would not talk for all these years?" Cassiopeia was amazed.
"Exactly," Jackson nodded, "You've explained the accidental death of
your friend Bojay that she caused, and I'm certain that there is a large
measure of guilt and depression over that. You also said that the only
thing you know about the first incident that triggered this, was
something that happened to this Captain Apollo that she kept screaming
out was her fault. I cannot imagine the kind of depression and guilt I
might feel if there was this genuine belief inside that I was responsible
for the deaths of two people I loved a great deal. But in the case of
Sheba, it has led her to basically feel such shame and guilt to the point
where she can not face the prospect of talking to someone about this
event, ever. As if she feels that her life is essentially worthless
because of what she has done. The unchanged expression of horror and
guilt on her face indicates to me that her mind is constantly reliving
the experience, and reexposing herself to it."
"Then it's a question of trying to get through to her, to try and just
make her know that no matter what happened, she still has a circle of
friends who love her," Cain came forward in his chair.
"No Commander, it is not that simple," Jackson held up a hand, "That's
why it was important to inquire about your own background. If it is true
that you were susceptible to depression at one time, to the point where
you needed mild medication, then it is clear that Sheba is in serious
need of both medication and therapy if there is to be any change in her
condition."
"What can you give her?"
"I need to run tests at LA Memorial Hospital before I even dare
prescribe any of the experimental drugs we're using on some PTSD
patients. And there is also the fact, that while you people are perhaps
as human as those of us on Earth, there might be unknown variables in
your physiology that could complicate things even more."
"I'll be glad to offer my services in order to help you adjust to
those variables, Doctor," Cassiopeia said, "I'm certain that if we work
together, those factors can be easily overcome."
"I appreciate that, Dr. Cassiopeia," Jackson smiled thinly, "Because
handling this case is not going to be an easy task. Sheba will have to
be taken to LA Memorial for the necessary tests, and avoiding unwanted
attention is going to be something of a problem. At this point, I'm not
prepared to trust anyone on the staff to keep quiet about a mysterious
patient that I can't reveal any details about, so your presence is going
to be vital."
"About how long would she have to stay in this hospital before she
could be moved back to a private location again?"
"Hard to say," the psychiatrist shrugged, "A few days maybe. As soon
as I can prescribe some medication for her, we can have her moved back to
this place, and I can make regular visits to keep up with the situation.
Once we've done that, it's a matter of waiting to see if whatever drugs I
prescribe have any effect before we can go on to the next phase."
"When can we move her to this hospital of yours?" once again, Cain was
anxious to keep events in a forward momentum.
"It might be a good idea to do it in a few hours, once the night staff
takes over. There's an unoccupied room next to my office that will do
perfectly. I have enough clout with the hospital administrator to tell
him that I'm conducting research on a sensitive manner that will require
everyone else to steer clear of where Sheba has to be kept for the short
term."
"And then?" Cain prodded.
"I'll get started first thing tomorrow, and see if a marathon session
Sunday can get all that we need to do wrapped-up before my regular work
schedule starts to intrude on Monday."
"What he means is that the regular work week, begins the day after
tomorrow. Today and tomorrow are the two days of normal leisure
activity," Cassiopeia explained quickly, since the references to the
Earth days of the week meant absolutely nothing to Cain.
"Very well," Cain nodded, "Is there anything else I can do in the
meantime that might help?"
Jackson allowed himself a faint half-smirk, "Try crossing your
fingers, Commander. Like I said, while it's a kind of illness I'm
familiar with, it's by far the most extreme case in the annals of
psychiatric medicine I've ever seen. You have to prepare yourself for
the possibility that the best that is humanly possible for me, is to
relieve the symptoms of the illness as opposed to an outright cure."
The Juggernaut but his lip and had to swallow several times to keep
his mouth from going dry.
"I'm going to take care of some preliminaries at the hospital," the
psychiatrist headed for the front door, "I'll be back in two hours."
"Dr. Jackson," Cassiopeia called after with gratitude, "I don't think
we can begin to thank you for what you've done. You've given us more
help than we've been able to accomplish in sixteen long years."
"Well, after receiving the pleasurable experience of a trip to the
moon, I suppose it was the least I could do," Jackson smiled as he put
his hat on and made his exit.
Alone, Cassiopeia and Cain now found themselves looking at each other
with awkward expressions.
"What kind of medication were you taking, when we first met?" the
Chief Medical Officer finally broke the silence.
Cain lowered his head, "Trianol. A friend of mine at the Gemonese
Clinic who I knew would never blow the whistle to the Council supplied
me."
"Trianol?" her eyes widened, "Good God, Cain, that wasn't a mild
anti-depressant. That was probably the most potent narcotic ever devised
in all the annals of Colonial Medicine. So dangerous that it was never
approved for anything other than extreme hospital patients."
"I needed it," Cain refused to look at her, "You can't begin to know
what I was going through when I learned Bethany was gone. And all the
guilt, all the shame at not being there. At not having had one chance
just to tell her one last time how much I loved her."
"So instead of taking a leave of absence and getting help from a
counselor, you just had to do things your way," Cassiopeia was
incredulous, "Risking your whole career. You'd have been thrown out of
the Service if word ever got out."
"I know," his voice remained quiet, "But I couldn't afford to take a
leave of absence then. I already knew that something big was going to be
happening at Molocay in the near-future, and I couldn't afford the risk
of turning over the Pegasus to Tolen. He was a good man, but he'd spent
his whole career as a Bridge Officer. He wasn't competent enough to
handle command of a combat assignment."
"So you took it in secret, hoping it would keep you on your toes for
the next big combat assignment," an edge of disdain entered her voice,
"Well let me ask you this, Cain. Did your taking trianol have anything
to do with why the Battle of Molocay resulted in the loss of every ship
in the Fifth Fleet except for the Pegasus?"
The Juggernaut flushed, "Absolutely not! I was off the stuff for a
long time by then. The day before I met you, my supplier suddenly got
cold feet, and said that while he would still keep everything secret, he
couldn't take the risk of supplying me anymore because the Medical
Inspector-General was on the verge of asking too many questions about the
level of trianol supplies dropping. I haven't had any since that day and
that's the truth on the honor of all the Lords of Kobol. I admit, I made
my share of mistakes at Molocay, but taking trianol had nothing to do
with it. I stopped taking it the day before I met you."
"No wonder you were so moody and weepy the night Rayena and I met you
in the Caprica City bar," Cassiopeia shook her head in amazement, "You
were going through your first withdrawal from trianol, and it was
aggravating your depression again."
Cain nodded weakly, "Yes."
Cassiopeia continued to shake her head as things about the past became
more clear to her than they had ever been before.
"All these yahrens, I'd suspected that our relationship had been based
more on simple gratitude than love," she sat down across from him, "And
this is finally the missing piece of the puzzle that confirms that."
"Cassie---" Cain protested.
"No Cain," she held up a hand, "Let's not hide behind sentiment. The
reason you accepted my help, was because you needed a substitute for
depending on trianol. And the reason why you kept our relationship going
so long until it turned into something that socialators are never
supposed to let it get turned into, was because without me, you were
afraid you'd need to fall back on an illegal drug again."
"Maybe at the beginning, Cassie," Cain said genuinely, "Maybe at the
beginning. But that wasn't how I felt later."
"Or so you thought," Cassiopeia sighed, "Or so you thought. You were
able to get over me eventually when it was clear you had all your mental
strength back. And if it was love instead of gratitude that defined our
relationship, then you would have taken me with you when you left the
Galactica at Gomorrah."
"There was too much danger involved, Cassie."
"Felgercarb," there was no malice in her voice as she uttered the
expletive, "You knew you'd survive that engagement, Cain. And you knew
you wanted to get away from Adama's authority as fast as you possibly
could. You didn't need me for a crutch anymore. If we had truly been in
love with each other, you would have fought for me and cut the ground out
from under Starbuck's feet faster than you draw your laser pistol on the
firing range.
she slowly shook her head, "I never thought I'd have the strength to say
that to you, even though I've always believed it over the yahrens. I
guess hearing you reveal that part about taking trianol is what just did
it for me now."
Cain found himself swallowing uneasily, "You're not bitter are you?"
"Why should I be?" she suddenly smiled warmly, "We had an experience
I'll always cherish as positive. After all, I did fulfill my
socialator's duty. We were both able to help each other. And I suppose
that if I was the key to getting you off trianol, I should feel even more
proud of what I was able to accomplish."
Cain rose from his chair and then without saying a word crossed over
into the guest bedroom where Sheba was lying on the bed. Her expression
still unchanged from what it had always been. A moment later, Cassiopeia
followed him in.
"Like father, like daughter," he sighed, "She inherited my temperament
when it came to being a damned good warrior, and she also inherited the
side of me that drove me to take trianol. No wonder she couldn't handle
whatever it was she was exposed to."
"I can tell you one thing, Cain," the Chief Medical Officer said, "If
it turns out that the type of medication Dr. Jackson ends up giving her
is related to trianol, as we know it, then there never was any hope of
curing her until now. That was one drug so limited in quantities
throughout the Colonies that no samples of it survived the Holocaust for
the Journey. And it would have taken up too many resources in the Fleet
to try and reproduce it within our facilities, which is why we never even
bothered."
"Another cruel twist of Fate at work," Cain sighed, "How many more of
those kinds of things do I have to see in my life?"
"Try not to look at things that way, Cain," his one-time lover tried
to sound reassuring, now that they had cleared the air between
themselves, "You know what Adama always says about a Divine Order of
things in the universe, and that there are reasons behind why events,
even tragedies like what's happened to Sheba take place. We never know
or understand why those things happen until much later, if ever, but
somehow, if there truly is a God who made the universe, then ultimately
there has to be a reason for why things happened as they did."
Cain smiled sadly and looked down at the floor, "Adama's always had
that secure kind of religious faith about God being in control of
everything. I've always had trouble with that concept, because I've seen
too much destruction and evil in my life to wonder what good could ever
have come out of it. How could Adama find Divine Order behind the
destruction of the Colonies or what happened to Sheba?"
"You know what he'd say," Cassiopeia said, "The Book of the Word,
Chapter Nine. 'In all things that are known unto the Lord, there is
knowledge and reason more infinite than all that is capable of
understanding to His children.'"
"The old, how dare I, the mere mortal, presume to question God," Cain
sighed, "If that's the criteria for how one gets into Heaven, then I
guess I'll be seeing that Hades Hole I keep referring to so often."
"That doesn't surprise me," she smiled crookedly, "You've always
thought of yourself as anything but a mere mortal."
"Until recently," he reached down and squeezed his daughter's hand,
"Until recently. I started losing that indestructible self-confidence
when I nearly got myself killed three yahrens ago during one of our worst
experiences on our own. That was what first got me interested in looking
for the Galactica again. And ever since I first learned about Sheba,
I've felt even more vulnerable than at any time in my life. And what
really makes me feel so damn vulnerable is the inability to have faith
like Adama does."
No sooner had Cain finished expressing his thought, when he suddenly
felt Sheba's hand squeezing his again.
"Lords of Kobol," he whispered and refused to let go, "That's the
second time she's squeezed my hand."
"It looks as though Dr. Jackson's right about her knowing her
surroundings," Cassiopeia smiled, "Maybe you should give what the Book of
the Word says, another look at the part about faith."
Before Cain could respond, the sound of Dr. Mortinson's minivan
pulling into the garage, indicated that their comrades had returned from
their dinner excursion. At that point, they both knew that their
intimate conversation was over.
And as the Juggernaut reluctantly loosened himself from the tight
squeeze of his daughter's hand, he made a silent promise not to brush off
Cassiopeia's suggestion.
Fifty-five trillion miles away around the planetary system of Sirius,
the Cylon task force continued its never-ending vigil of watching and
monitoring the progress of the Colonial Fleet. Forever in abeyance from
unleashing its deadly assault until the task force commander issued the
order upon confirmation of Earth's discovery.
But even if that day did come, Lucifer wondered as he entered the
commander's throne room, would he really have the nerve to issue that
directive?
As much as his advanced IL brain continued to ponder that question, it
had not reached a state of security where he would dare pose that
question to his face, let alone to the Imperious Leader.
There was of course, one individual he could confide his thoughts to.
The very individual who's name would be coming up in the next
conversation with the commander, but his distaste for that individual was
too high for Lucifer to ever consider confiding in.
"By your command," he bowed slightly.
The throne turned around, and the commander motioned his head ever so
faintly, "Speak."
"Your presence is required in the communications center. We are
receiving for the first time, a direct communique all the way from our
outer capital of Gomorrah."
The commander's gray eyebrows, which matched his enormously thick
beard, went up with interest. "Direct communication from so far out?"
"Yes."
"Remarkable," the commander rubbed the whiskers on his chin, "Very
remarkable. I'd heard they were developing such a breakthrough in
communications, but I didn't realize it would be ready this soon."
"It still needs perfecting," Lucifer noted, "Ultimately, the ability
to communicate with the home planet itself will represent the crowning
touch of the system."
"That will be a triumph indeed," the commander activated the switch
that lowered the throne chair from its pedestal so he could get out of
it. A centon later, he jumped out of it and followed the IL Cylon out
into the corridor that led to the communications center.
"Am I to assume that the base commander of Gomorrah has sent this
message?" he asked Lucifer as they entered the room.
"Yes," the IL admitted.
The commander looked at him with an authoritative expression, "Then it
must remain purely confidential, Lucifer. Take leave for now."
"By your command," Lucifer bowed and left the room. The commander
then snapped his fingers and the two centurions on duty in the room also
followed the IL Cylon out.
He sat down in the chair in front of a video monitor, pressed several
switches and waited.
A split instant later, a face appeared on the screen. Not the face of
a centurion or an IL Cylon, but a face that was not too dissimilar from
his own. Like his, it was the face of a human being. Considerably older
than his, but one that was equally gray and thickly bearded with the
scars of many yahrens experience.
The two of them also shared something else in common. Treason against
the Colonial Nation that had elevated them into positions of power in the
Cylon Empire, though for the older human, the taste of power had been
less sweet for a considerably long period.
"Hello Baltar," the commander said pleasantly, "It's been a very long
time since we last talked."
"Considerably," the man who had betrayed humanity at the phony Peace
Conference of thirty yahrens ago that had led to the destruction of the
Colonies faintly smiled back, "Considerably long, Commander," he always
put a certain ironic edge on the title.
"But naturally, now that this new breakthrough in communications has
taken place, we will no doubt be chatting with more frequency from now
on."
"Of that I am certain," the elder traitor admitted and then got to the
point, "Your report to the Imperious Leader surrounding the discovery of
the Battlestar Pegasus reached my attention. Is it true that you in
fact, let her through your lines to reach the Galactica safely?"
"I believe you already know the answer to that, Baltar," the
commander's voice suddenly grew flat, "Standard operating procedure
dictated no other course of action. I don't think the Leader would care
for a protracted battle that could result in serious losses that would
require several wasted yahrens in sending out reinforcements from Cylon."
Just then, Baltar began to laugh.
"Oh Commander, Commander, you never cease to amaze me after all these
yahrens. I'm well aware that the Leader is fully convinced of the
alleged wisdom of your course of action, and there is nothing I can do to
change his mind about that. After all, that's why I'm where I am now, in
exile as commander of this lonely outer capital, and you are where I once
was, commanding the task force that will one day destroy the Galactica
and all that is left of her Fleet. You hold the special place as the
Imperious Leader's chosen one who will carry out that glorious task. But
while you have successfully fooled the Imperious Leader, I know perfectly
well that you have no intention of ever carrying that order out."
"We shall see, when the time comes," there was a malevolent smirk from
the commander.
"Yes of course, the face that gives away nothing, in the event that
this conversation is being recorded for our Leader's eyes," Baltar
sighed, "I can imagine exactly how you learned to do that."
"I find it very disappointing that you made this historic
communication across such a vast distance for such a petty conversation,
Baltar," the commander didn't bat an eye, "At this point, I see no reason
in continuing it. But of course, when it comes to this little question
of devotion to the cause, I would remind you that there is plenty of
evidence to indicate that it is you who would conceivably be in more
trouble with the Imperious Leader if such accusations as you are
implying, were ever made."
Instantly, the smirk faded from the elderly traitor's face, and he
seemed rattled, since he knew yet again that the commander always held
the upper hand on that score. The evidence for Baltar giving help to
destroy a lone basestar on one occasion many yahrens ago was there like a
noose around the elder traitor's neck waiting for the signal from the
commander to give it. That was why the things Baltar was telling him now
were never repeated to anyone else in the Cylon Empire.
"Very well, Commander," he said with a heavy measure of frost, "As
always, you continue to have the best of me. And yet somehow, I suspect
that the arrival of the Pegasus will soon lead to a very dramatic change
in events."
"Hail the Empire, if that be the discovery of Earth," the commander
reached for the switch to end the transmission, "I will certainly let you
be the second only to the Leader himself in learning that news. It is
certainly the least I can do for you."
With a flick of the switch, Baltar's image faded from the screen
before the elder traitor could issue a retort.
And then, the man once known as Captain Apollo nonchalantly walked
back to his throne room.
Chapter Six
It was as though everything was a perpetual haze and shadow. That was
how Sheba's tortured mind had perceived everything around her for sixteen
long yahrens. Always, there was some dim awareness of where she was, and
who was with her. But there was never any clarity or cohesion to those
perceptions. To her, they seemed like dreamlike caricatures never
emitting a sound, totally lacking focus and distinction. If they were
saying anything, her mind was too wracked with guilt, depression, shock
and horror to hear anything.
They probably think I'm crazy, she kept thinking to herself,
over-and-over again down through the yahrens. They've put me in the
Nuthouse because they think I'm a lunatic.
If only I were so lucky.
If only I were so lucky.....
If she were really insane, she'd probably be stuck in a world of
eternal peace and bliss. Insane people, from what she'd read, always
lost their sense of reality. Their minds became trapped inside fantasies
for the rest of their lives. More often than not, they retreated into a
fantasy world of unending pleasure.
If I were nuts, I'd see Apollo and we'd be happy together. Enjoying
life, enjoying all the things we'd ever wished we could have. Far away
from the madness of the war and the Cylons....
Instead, the only images that remained perpetually sharp in her mind
were those from sixteen yahrens. Over and over again, they replayed
themselves with such shocking clarity that it was almost like watching an
old video entertainment to the point where the entire dialogue and
gestures were known by heart to the viewer.
In her case though, she had been a participant in the tragedy. That
knowledge as the event replayed itself again and again in her mind, only
served to increase the depression and guilt to the point where the
periodic glimpses of what she knew was still the real world, became even
fuzzier and more indistinct.
Through the shadows that played before her, she'd sensed that
something was happening to her in the world she'd shut her mind off from.
At one point, she'd perceived a shadow of her father, standing over her
bed. She'd wondered at that point if she really was slipping into the
realm that separated her mental state from total madness. But the shadow
had persisted. And when she saw that shadow accompanied by the
indistinct forms of Adama and Cassiopeia inside her room in the Nuthouse,
she suddenly realized that it was in all likelihood, quite real.
For just a brief moment, the shadow lifted to the point where she
could feel his hand squeezing hers, just like he'd done so many times
when she was a child. And before her mind was overwhelmed yet again by
the images of sixteen yahrens ago, she managed to summon the strength to
reciprocate the squeeze.
But any comfort she tried to feel inside over the thought that her
father had at long last come back from the dead, was more than offset by
the even larger guilt of how she could ever face him with an explanation
of what had happened. Could she ever look him in the eye and tell him
that the Juggernaut's daughter, whom he'd molded into one of the finest
warriors of her generation, and who had always expressed such devotion
and pride in her abilities, had failed at the most critical time of her
life? What would he then think of her?
Can I ever tell you, Daddy? Would you be ashamed of me?
As she'd felt herself pondering that thought, she'd then sensed that
she was being moved from the shadows of the so-called "Nuthouse." A ride
in a shutttle. Then, briefly she could discern the Life Station of the
Galactica, where she had been brought so many yahrens ago after being
injured during the battle of Gomorrah, and where she'd first noticed
Apollo taking more than a slight interest in her with his frequent visits
to check on her progress. Then another shuttle trip. Through it all,
she felt incapable of trying to fathom what was being done to her.
Everything remained a blurry, shadowy and silent fog that only
occasionally intruded on the sharp memories of sixteen yahrens ago.
When the shuttle trip came to an end, she could have sworn for an
instant that she was being taken back to the planet where it had all
happened. The rocky cliffs and canyons, the desolate landscape seemed
identical. And so she found herself screaming inside with horrible
anguish, trying to escape before things went totally black again.
And now, there were new, totally strange shadows passing in front of
her. The sensation of being moved about in strange ground vehicles. Of
being inside some bulding filled with people, then back again in a more
comfortable bed, seeing her father standing over her again, squeezing her
hand like before.
Time had long since become something she could no longer measure, so
she couldn't fathom how much time passed from when she first sensed the
new surroundings to when she suddenly felt strange new sensations pulsing
through her mind and body. It almost felt like the sensation of rising
up from some gigantic bottomless pit heading toward a previously unseen
top.
And then, the shadowy images of what she knew to be the real world
suddenly began to take on a clarity that she could not remember knowing
for....how long? Since....?
She could discern a woman she knew to be Cassiopeia coming up to her
on a regular basis of at least once every three or four centars
administering some kind of injection to her. With each injection, Sheba
could feel the sensation of rising from the pit increase even more, and
soon, the awareness of her surroundings became more distinct than the
memory of the incident.
As if she felt like the opening at the top of the pit was becoming
more visible, she could suddenly discern the sounds she'd shut her mind
off from for so long. Clearly distinct voices were no evident to her.
She recognized Cassiopeia's, and on other occasions, her father,
and.....dear God was it Troy?
There was a mixture of relief and puzzlement rising inside Sheba as
the injections continued. Why was this happening to her? What were they
trying to accomplish?
Her mind felt the sensation of drifting off to sleep, which was when
the stunning vision of the incident always came back to trouble her. But
this time, was the first time that it did not intrude into her
consciousness.
When Sheba opened her eyes again, the clarity of her surroundings was
never stronger. She could see that she was in some kind of room filled
with furniture that looked as though it belonged in a museum devoted to
fifth millenia culture. In front of her, Cassiopeia, dressed in clothes
totally unfamiliar to her, was seated in a chair, her eyes slumped over
some kind of small book.
From an open window to her right, she could hear the sounds of birds
and vehicular traffic. With considerable effort, she cocked her head and
could tell that it was night outside, with several street lamps
reminiscent of those on the avenues of Caprica City casting their glow.
She then forced her head to look back at Cassiopeia, and to her
amazement felt a sensation rising inside her throat. Trying desperately
for the first time in sixteen yahrens to form words.
But it had been too long for Sheba. As a result, her first attempt
only caused a guttural grunt to come out.
It promptly caught the Chief Medical Officer's attention though,
causing her to drop the science-fiction novel she was reading.
"Sheba?" she came up to her bedside, and felt her heart beating
rapidly, "Sheba?"
Again, Sheba tried to speak. With intense struggle, she finally in a
throaty crack, managed to get one word out, "Cass....i....op...eia?"
"Yes," her long-time friend squeezed her hand and smiled reassuringly
as she tried to keep calm, "Yes, Sheba it's Cassiopeia. Can you hear me?
Can you understand me?"
Sheba's mouth opened, but this time only a guttural indecipherable
sound came out again.
"Don't try to talk," Cassiopeia gently commanded, "Don't exert
yourself. If you can understand me, try nodding your head."
Sheba promptly did so. With a great deal of intense vigor.
"Okay Sheba," she could barely keep her enthusiasm from bursting,
"Okay. Don't exert yourself, just relax. Just relax and try to gather
your strength. I'll be back in a centon."
The Chief Medical Officer then bolted out of the room and let her
emotions out, "Dr. Mortinson!" she shouted, "Dr. Mortinson!"
Sheba felt herself settling back against the pillows of the bed, her
eyes looking up at the ceiling as she took a number of deep breaths. The
feeling of rising from the pit had now reached the point where it seemed
as though she'd at last reached the top and climbed her way out.
But the black abyss of the pit was still visible to her, and there was
also the realization that she could just as easily tumble back into it.
For the first two weeks since their arrival on Earth, Cain had
adamantly refused to leave the Mortinson house and venture out and
explore the sights of Earth. It finally took a near tounge-lashing from
Cassiopeia to get him to relent and end his constant vigil by Sheba's
bedside, so he had finally agreed to let Troy, Dillon and Jamie take him
out on some excursions into Los Angeles and the surrounding areas.
Discarding his uniform for a turtleneck sweater and brown sports jacket
lent by Mortinson, he had first accompanied them to a basketball game at
the Los Angeles Forum, where he witnessed an Earth spectator sport for
the first time and found the game slow-moving and dull in contrast to
triad. Triad was a game involving two teams of great warriors who fought
each other for the entire length of the game without let-up. Seeing so
many players go in and out of the action for varying lengths of time
seemed like a mark of weakness to the Juggernaut.
The next night, they had gone to a movie house, where a new
science-fiction movie called 2010 was playing. When they emerged two
hours later, a red-faced Jamie Hamilton was apologizing profusely to
them.
"I'm sorry," she said as they walked back to the parking garage where
her car was, "I had no idea it was going to be like that. The book was
nowhere near that political."
"Oh boy, after what I went through to convince the Council about
non-interference with Earth affairs, I can't imagine the fire they'd
light if a hothead like Sire Darcy or Sire Kort ever saw that," Troy was
shaking his head in disgust, "A story all about 'moral equivalence'
between the United States and the Soviets, the intervention of a
'superior alien race' in the affairs of Earth to happily sweep all the
differences under the rug. I can barely take that kind of felgercarb
when it comes from the Council. To see that from an Earth native in
popular entertainment borders on the obscene."
Eight months earlier, Troy had helped Adama head off a revolt among
members of the Council of Twelve who had come-up with a scheme for
interfering in the affairs of Earth and imposing an end to the Cold War
struggle between the United States and the Soviet Union. After reading
the moving accounts of life under the brutality of the Soviet regime by
the dissident Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Troy had been able to make a
powerful argument to the Council (so powerful that it had caused Sire
Tigh to defect from the ranks of the dissidents and resume his friendship
with Adama) that intervening and forcing an end that ignored the
fundamental differences between the two regimes, was ethically and
morally wrong.
"Kind of worse than the The Day The Earth Stood Still, wasn't it?"
Dillon's mind went back to a conversation he'd had with Jamie on the
night they'd first become lovers.
"Very," she nodded, "At least that film wasn't so damned pretentious.
It seems like nowadays these films like to put preaching messages ahead
of entertaining."
"And in this case, it's a bad message," Troy didn't let-up, "I wonder
if that director ever read a page of Solzhinetsyn. He evidently doesn't
have much respect for the freedom he's enjoying in this country, if he
can make a film saying that the Cold War is all over nothing."
"You'll need to explain this to me sometime," Cain observed dryly as
they got into the car, "I'm a long ways from understanding why you three
got so upset with the film's politics. All I know is if that's typical
Earth entertainment, then this planet is even more in the Dark Ages than
I realized. Those conceptions of alien life forms are out of the worst
tenth of a cubit trash novels I used to thumb through in Caprican
bookstores."
"Not all Earth entertainment is that bad, Commander Cain," Jamie
smiled as she settled behind the wheel and started the car, "Next time
I'll try something really classy, like a Shakespeare play. He was the
greatest playwright in the history of Earth."
"Just don't subject us to the opera again, Jamie," Dillon grinned,
"Another night of that would be worse than a Cylon torture machine."
"That's typical coming from a man who enjoys the cacaphonous
felgercarb of Green Cycle and all the other groups that perform on the
Rising Star," Troy needled his friend, "I kind of liked it. Not as good
as those Broadway musicals I saw in New York last year, but I liked it."
"I ceased listening to your opinion on music twenty yahrens ago Troy,
when you dragged me off to that impromptu concert of the late Lieutenant
Jolly and his band comprised of that funny looking Kobolian instrument."
"To each his own," Troy grinned, and then turned to Cain, "That's the
great thing about this planet, Commander. There's a rich diversity of
culture to sample that offers things a lot of us hadn't been able to
enjoy after thirty yahrens of flight across the stars."
"Perhaps," Cain didn't join in the levity, "Maybe if things get better
with Sheba, I'll finally be able to notice that better. Right now..." he
trailed off and shook his head, "Forgive me for being such bad company."
"Don't apologize, Commander," Jamie said as she took the car on the
road that led to Brentwood, "We all understand."
As the car came to a traffic light, Cain's attention was distracted by
the displays of red, green and gold tinsel that hung from the street
signs, as well as the various decorations on some of the houses along the
avenue.
"What are all those things for?" he asked, "Some kind of celebration?"
"An upcoming holiday," Troy said, "Christmas."
"What's the purpose of it?" Cain decided to start a conversation
feeling that he had nothing else to do.
Troy hesitated slightly, "Jamie, you'd better explain."
Jamie nodded as the light turned green, "Christmas is the most
important religious holiday on the planet. It celebrates the birth of
the most important religious figure in Earth history, Jesus Christ. He's
so important that the world calendar dates from His birth, while all
history prior is dated with the designation 'B.C.' or before Christ."
Cain slowly nodded his head, "That's....important. What kind of
philosophy does He represent?"
"Something very similar to our own, Commander," Troy said, deciding to
take over since he'd spent many days studying the doctrine during his
time on Earth, "At least similar to that embodied by the principles of
the Book of the Word. But while in our society, the Lords of Kobol acted
as the instruments of God the Creator to reveal His message to the people
of Kobol, the sect on Earth known as Christianity believes that Jesus
Christ, the Son of God came to Earth as a man to reveal God's message to
the people."
The Juggernaut found that concept initially hard to comprehend,
"Rather unorthodox procedure."
"Not necessarily," Troy mildly countered, "Maybe it was necessary to
do it that way if the knowledge taught by the Lords of Kobol was
forgotten by those who first settled here. Who can judge God as to why
things happened differently here?"
As the car pulled into the Brentwood, Cain cast a wry glance at Troy
in the darkness, but said nothing. Once again, he was hearing something
about the concept of Divine control of events, and as it had been when
he'd talked with Cassiopeia two weeks before, he still wasn't sure if he
wanted to have anything to do with the idea.
The car pulled into the driveway of Mortinson's house, and right away
noticed that Dr. Jackson's car was there.
"I didn't know he was supposed to come by tonight," Cain frowned, "Has
something happened?"
Before anyone could say anything else, the front door was thrown open
and an exuberant Cassiopeia was sprinting down the stone path to where
the car was parked.
"Cain," she leaned in as the Juggernaut rolled down his windown, "All
of you, listen. The drugs have led to a breakthrough. Sheba actually
spoke."
And then, the car doors all flew open and the four occupants leapt out
in a mad dash for the front door.
When they were all inside, they saw Dr. Jackson standing outside
Sheba's door, alongside a spent Mortinson.
"Cassiopeia notified me immediately," the psychiatrist said, "It would
seem that the regular dosages of 90 mg of buspirone, or what you call
trianol, has led to some positive results for Sheba."
"So what does this mean?" Cain asked anxiously.
"It means Commander, that your daughter has regained full awareness of
her surroundings, and that the buspirone injections have relieved the
symptoms of depression and guilt to the point where she is trying to
communicate again. At the moment, I can not tell whether or not any
side-effects of memory loss have set in."
"Let me talk to her, Doctor," Cain softly pleaded, "Please."
"You may," Jackson nodded, "But don't bombard her with questions.
Overexerting her mind at this point could be as traumatic as the incident
that put her into her original state. This whole thing has to move
forward as delicately as possible. She might need another day or two
before she can converse normally."
"Of course," he nodded fervently and entered. Immediately, Troy tried
to follow him in, but Jackson promptly clamped a hand on his shoulder.
"It's probably better to just let the Commander go in at this point,
Captain."
Troy abruptly flicked the psychiatrist's arm aside with disgust,
"Doctor, that woman inside there was going to become my stepmother, and
is the only woman I have ever regarded as a substitute mother at any
point in my life. If Cain goes in, so do I."
Without waiting for Jackson to say anything, Troy went inside as well.
Cain had already reached Sheba's bedside, and was kneeling over his
daughter, holding her hand.
"Baby," he whispered, "Can you hear me?"
Sheba slowly nodded her head and seemed to exhale deeply, as she
struggled to speak, "Dad...dy?"
"Yes," he nodded, "It's me. I finally came back."
"How...." her voice broke off into a guttural rasp, as she struggled
with the next word, "How.....long?"
"For you or me?" he smiled wryly, "For me, it's been more than thirty
yahrens. God, I can't tell you how much it means to see you again."
"I'd....." another crack in her voice, "Given....up."
"On me?" Cain kept smiling and patted her hand, "Would I break a
promise I made to you, so long ago?"
For the first time, his daughter managed to smile.
"I.....guess.....not," her voice remained a cracking, whispery rasp as
she struggled with each word, "Where.....where....am I?"
"You're on Earth," Cain said soothingly, "Adama was right. The
thirteenth colony exists and you're on it."
She looked about the room, and let out another slow exhale,
"Is....war....still...go...ing....on?"
The smile briefly faded from the Juggernaut's face, "I'm afraid so,
Sheba. It's still going on, but there's no immediate danger right now."
She looked past her father, "Troy?"
Her would-be stepson came up beside Cain and smiled down at her, "Hi
Sheba," he said tenderly, "Do you feel okay?"
She looked about the room and faintly shook her head,
"I'm....not....sure."
"Just relax," Cain ran his hand through her hair, "Just relax. Just
gather your strength. We won't burden you with any questions right now.
Not until you feel up to it."
Her eyes darted back to the two of them, "Apollo?" she blurted the
word out.
Troy bit his lip and tried to keep his composure even. Cain was
slowly turning around and casting an uneasy glance at him.
"Know..." she forced the next word out, "You....know....about Apollo?"
Troy hesitated, and then cautiously inquired, "Do we know....what you
know, Sheba? Is that what you mean?"
She fervently nodded.
"Ah, no," Troy said gently, "No we don't. But...you don't have to
tell us about that unless you want to. We understand."
She closed her eyes and settled back into her pillow, slowly shaking
her head.
"Baby," Cain tenderly squeezed her hand, "You don't have to worry
anymore. We're here to give you love and support no matter what happened
sixteen yahrens ago. It's all okay."
"Bojay," she whispered faintly, "Bojay tried...."
"That was an accident, Sheba," Cain leaned closer and injected a hard
parental edge into his tone, "An accident, pure and simple. Don't blame
yourself for that, ever."
A moment passed, and then Sheba slowly nodded.
"That's good," her father smiled, "That's good. You rest now, and
when you feel a little better, we can talk later. You're with the people
who love you, Sheba. Always remember that."
After another faint nod, her eyes closed and she seemed to drift off
to sleep.
Cain got to his feet and let out a sigh.
"Well, that was a giant step forward," the Juggernaut said, "I was
really starting to give up hope, but it looks as though Dr. Jackson's
treatment really works."
Troy was gazing in puzzled contemplation at Sheba.
"Troy?" Cain frowned slightly at him.
"Why would she ask us if we knew about what happened to my father?" he
mused aloud, "I didn't expect that at all."
Cain shrugged, "Maybe she figured after all this time, you would have
been able to piece the story together."
"But how?" his puzzlement deepened, "If she hasn't suffered any memory
loss, and I don't think she has if she remembers about Bojay, then how
could she have expected us to know what happened?"
The Juggernaut grimaced and shook his head, "At this stage of the
game, Captain, I'm not even ready to ponder those kinds of questions.
Now that I know I can talk to her again, my impatience just expired."
And mine has just begun, Troy retorted silently.
As if the Pegasus commander sensed what Troy was thinking, Cain
grabbed him by the arm and lowered his voice to a tone that was more in
character for the Juggernaut.
"Don't push her," he said pointedly, "Don't push her at all. If the
choice comes down to her recovering without us ever knowing what happened
to Apollo, or finding out in a way that pushes her over the brink again,
then we're choosing the former option and that is final."
"Of course," Troy nodded, "I wouldn't have it any other way."
And then, the two of them silently left the room.
Chapter Seven
For the second time in a row, the nightmare image of the past did not
intrude on Sheba's mind with the clarity she was accustomed to. The
treatment she'd been getting had it made it seem less horribly sharp than
before, and as a result, she'd finally summoned the strength to break
back into the surroundings she'd long ago shut herself off from.
As she'd drifted off to sleep, she'd been able to digest Troy's remark
about not knowing about Apollo. Once she'd found out that the war with
the Cylons was still going on, she almost expected them to know.
Wouldn't they have had a chance to find out what Apollo had become, if
the Cylons were still pursuing the Fleet?
Apparently not.
That would mean they'd have to learn the truth from her. And while
she'd found the strength to overcome part of her depression and reconnect
with the real world, she didn't know if she could handle telling them.
"You're with the people who love you, Sheba. Always remember that."
Her father's words to her before she drifted off, continued to echo
through her mind. Reassuring words to try and comfort her.
People who love me, she thought. Just like....Apollo.
She found herself wondering if she could really be comforted by her
father's words. Was it really such a blessing to have the love of so
many people? After all, why had the tragedy happened in the first place?
What had been the key factor that caused Apollo to end up where he was
now?
Because he loved me. Because he loved me too damn much. If he hadn't
loved me so much, he wouldn't have done what he did....
Despite it's customary lack of clarity, the scene was still not
indistinct. Always starting back in the Cylon fighter as it took off
from the Galactica to investigate the solar system where Bojay had
reported the ion trail readings.....
"These things really handle sluggishly compared to a viper," Sheba
noted as she tried to get comfortable with the co-pilot's controls, "No
wonder we ended up developing single-manned vipers."
"Now you know why it's relatively easy to blast these things out of
the stars," Apollo grinned slightly, "It's not just a case of the Cylon
pilots being so dumb."
"So they overcompensate with sheer numbers," she sighed, "Sheer
numbers to try and track us down."
"Let's just hope none of them have wandered into this region," her
fiancee's tone grew dead serious, "I'm kind of worried about what five
yahrens of inactivity could do to our ability to handle a surprise
attack."
"People seem too preoccupied with our impending nuptials," Sheba
nodded, "God, if I see another report on the IFB, I might scream. It
makes me wish there was still a way of eloping."
"I know what you mean," he chuckled, "Problem is, where would we elope
to?"
She laughed as well and looked ahead of her as the three planets of
the solar system came into view, "Maybe one of those planets is a nice
little Paradise where we could both disappear to and just live in sin for
the rest of our lives, free from the Cylons and all the other problems of
the Fleet."
He cast a half-smile glance at her, "Too bad you and I aren't social
misfits with no friends and family to think about, or else I'd give that
idea more thought than you could ever realize."
"Wouldn't all of us?" Sheba sighed and then assumed a posture of total
professionalism as she consulted her scanner, "Let's see. No signs of
lifeforms on any of these planets as far as I can tell. Only the second
one seems capable of sustaining life."
"What about ion trail readings?" Apollo inquired, "That's what we're
primarily concerned with."
Sheba checked the read-out and nodded, "Got one. In back of the
second planet. We should get closer to take a better study of the
properties."
Apollo banked the Cylon fighter so that it took a new arc toward the
gray and red tinged planet that lay ahead of them. Centons later, they
had assumed an elliptical arc around it.
"Well, nothing's hiding in back of here now, but...." Sheba trailed
off and looked at the computer reading again, "Wait a micron. These
readings seem a lot more recent than what Bojay's patrol indicated.
Scanning and cross-checking for properties now."
After a micron's pause, Sheba grimly shook her head, "That's it. A
perfect match with the normal fuel composition for a Cylon baseship."
"Frack," Apollo clenched his teeth, "I was hoping to all the Lords
that it wouldn't be."
"Apollo," a note of alarm crept into Sheba's voice, "It just occurred
to me. If the baseships were here, then where did they go to? Wouldn't
it be logical to just be waiting here for us to march right into this,
since this lies on our normal course heading?"
Apollo suddenly froze, "Unless they...." he broke off and shook his
head, "Oh my God, unless the faint trail Bojay picked up was deliberate.
To get the Galactica to alter course to...."
"To where they're waiting right now," Sheba finished for him, "Let's
get out of here and get back as fast as we can. The Fleet's walking
straight into a trap!"
"Agreed," Apollo nodded vigorously and then activated the thrusters to
take the fighter out of its orbit of the planet.
But nothing happened.
"Something's wrong. Sheba, try the auxiliary thrusters on your side."
She flicked the switches, but again, the fighter remained locked in
orbit.
"Fracking piece of Cylon felgercarb," Sheba grunted and then banged at
it with her fist, "What's going on?"
"I have no idea," Apollo was in a state of bewilderment, "This doesn't
make any sense."
"If we can't get out of here, we'd better break radio silence and warn
the Fleet."
"I agree," Apollo nodded and prepared to activate the switch.
But just then, a shower of sparks erupted, causing Apollo tZo back
away deep into his seat, and jerk his headset off.
"Holy Frack, what----"
"Apollo, we've lost control of her," Sheba raised her voice, "We're
entering the atmosphere. We can't reach escape velocity."
Apollo straightened up and went back to the controls. After a brief
struggle, the Cylon fighter stopped its downward plummet and levelled
off.
"Okay," he struggled to maintain his composure, "Okay. At least I can
guide her in for a smooth landing. Brace yourself, Sheba."
Below them, a mixture of rocky and sandy terrain started to come into
view. Sheba found herself shaking her head in bewilderment that this
could be happening. There was literally no explanation for why the craft
had suddenly decided to malfunction at this point.
"Assume heading to mark two-three-one," Sheba called out as she looked
at the scanner readout on the surface, "We'll run into a cliff if we
don't."
"Help me," Apollo pulled back on his control wheel and gritted his
teeth, "I can't handle this myself."
His fiancee nodded and also took hold of her control wheel. With
agonizing slowness, the fighter locked on to the proper heading that
would keep them out of immediate danger.
As they continued to struggle with the controls, Apollo managed to
throw a mirthless glance at her, "I sure hope this isn't retribution for
my seeing your sealing gown."
The ground continued to come up into their field of vision. It seemed
to take forever, but after only another twenty microns, the belly of the
Cylon fighter made contact with the sandy surface of the planet. It
skidded along the sand coming up fast towards a nearby outcropping of
cliffs and mountains before finally coming to a stop....
Sheba bolted upright in her bed in a cold sweat. She knew what was
coming next, and her mind had screamed at her not to have to go through
it again.
Was this going to go on even after she reconnected with reality?
Would she still have to be wracked with guilt again and again at the
sight of what had happened after the crash, which had ended so horribly
for Apollo? And in the process, for herself and then for Bojay?
Maybe the time had come to let things out. Maybe the guilt and
depression would continue only as long as this was kept to herself.
It had been so long since she'd last moved under her own power, but
this time she found herself rising from her bed and getting to her feet
without much difficulty. Now that the drugs were pumping through her
system, she was feeling some energy coming back to her. A desire to let
everything out.
She opened the door to her room and looked out at the living room of
Mortinson's house. Cassiopeia was sitting half-asleep in the dark,
staring at a television set that was still turned on. A strange looking
man with an even stranger gap-toothed grin was on the screen saying
things that Sheba didn't even begin to understand, but what some people
evidently found to be funny, since she could hear sounds of laughter
coming from the audience watching the man.
Sheba cautiously made her way over to the Chief Medical Officer and
gently nudged her on the shoulder.
Cassiopeia came to and looked up with a startled expression.
"Sheba, my God...."
"Cassiopeia," for the first time, her words came out clearly with no
difficulty, "Cassiopeia, I need to talk."
"Well sure, but....good Lord do you feel okay moving around?"
"Better than I ever felt before," she took a breath, "I don't know
what it is you've been giving me, but it's worked."
"A derivation of trianol," she could think of nothing else to say,
"Administered at three times the maximum dosage ever given to any patient
in Earth medical history."
"This is really Earth?" Sheba looked around the living room, filled
with furniture that like the bedroom was straight out of a fifth millenia
museum, "This isn't quite what I expected."
"Sit down," Cassiopeia took her by the arm, "Sit down and I'll
explain. Can I get you anything?"
"I could use some water," Sheba settled down on to the sofa, "I'm
beginning to realize what it feels like to take everything intravenous
after all this time."
The Chief Medical Officer nodded and briefly disappeard into the
kitchen. She reemerged a moment later with a tall glass of water that
Sheba proceeded to gulp down in three quick swallows.
"That felt good," she set the glass down, "Oh God, I can't believe
it's gone on so long."
"There wasn't anything we could do aboard the Galactica," her friend
took her by the arm, "Without trianol to correct the worst of your
symptoms, nothing could be done until we found Earth."
"Probably just as well," Sheba sighed and took a breath, "Probably
just as well. If I'd been well-enough to tell everything then...."
At this point, Cassiopeia wasn't sure how to proceed, "Tell what?" she
gingerly inquired, "Is there something you want to tell me?"
She looked at the Chief Medical Officer in the eye, "I think so.
But....please Cassie, don't have my father or Troy come out here now. I
need to tell someone else first. I....need to know if you think this is
a story that can ever be told to anyone else."
Cassiopeia smiled and affectionately squeezed her hand, "Okay Sheba,
if you want it to be our woman-to-woman secret for now, that's fine.
Whatever you think will make you feel better."
"Someone has to know," she sighed, "I can't keep this bottled up
inside me. But Lords of Kobol, if Troy or Adama or Athena ever found
out...."
"Sheba," Cassiopeia gently cut in, "I think I should tell you this.
Since....the incident happened, we lost Athena and Starbuck."
Sheba looked at her with stunned disbelief, "They're dead?"
"Yes," the Chief Medical Officer nodded with sad resignation. She
could never know if that were literally true with Starbuck, but there
seemed little point in denying that, "They were killed in two separate
Cylon attacks. As a matter of fact, the only two Cylon attacks since
what happened to you and Apollo."
She lowered her head and seemed like she was going to feel sick, "Oh
God," she whispered, "Oh God, that makes it even more horrible."
"Sheba," a note of alarm entered Cassiopeia's voice, "Sheba, don't.
You'll be...."
"Don't worry Cassie," she kept looking down, "I'm not going to let
myself slide back into that horrible pit ever again. I know I've still
got a lot of things to struggle with inside, but so help me God, I won't
let myself end up in the fracking Nuthouse again."
Sheba paused and took another breath, "God, I wish I had some
ambrosia."
"I can get you the Earth counterpart," Cassiopeia got to her feet and
went back to the kitchen again. She reemerged with a bottle of Burgundy
wine and two glasses.
"Here," she poured for the both of them, "The fruit-base is similar to
ambrosia. It shouldn't be too much of a difference."
"Thanks," Sheba took a large sip and seemed to relax in her chair,
"Mmmmm, that is good. I haven't tasted anything that good since I came
of legal age."
At first, Cassiopeia was astonished to see how Sheba was rapidly
regaining her strength so fast. But as she reflected further, the Chief
Medical Officer realized that it was more than just the trianol. While
the drug was undoubtedly the key to starting her recovery, once it took
effect, the fiery spirit of determination that Sheba had inherited from
Cain seemed to take over.
Like father, like daughter, she mused with admiration as she took a
sip of wine herself.
"Anyway," Sheba caught her breath and resumed, "What I mean is, if
it's true that Starbuck and Athena were killed because of Cylon attacks
than that makes the whole tragedy of what happened to Apollo more
difficult to ever explain to Adama and Troy."
She then looked at Cassiopeia in the eye, "How did you cope with
losing Starbuck?"
"My work, Sheba," the Chief Medical Officer sighed and took antoher
sip, "My work. It wasn't easy, but I learned to live with it. And I
don't think you have to worry too much about Adama and Troy. They've
been through this thing before, and when it comes to finding out about
how Apollo died, I'm sure they can learn to accept it as well."
Sheba slowly shook her head, "Cassie, if the story I had to tell was
as simple as Apollo dying, I wouldn't have gone off the deep-end."
Cassiopeia was startled by her remark. So startled that she almost
dropped her half-filled wine glass on the floor.
"Sheba," she took a breath and set her glass down on the end table,
"Are you trying to tell me that Apollo wasn't killed...."
"He wasn't dead when I last saw him," she looked off into space and
absently took another sip, "God, it would have been so better if he was."
"Sheba," Cassiopeia took her by the arm, "What are you saying? If
Apollo wasn't killed then where....?"
Sheba then looked her friend in the eye, "Cassiopeia, I won't go
through the details of what happened first and keep you in suspense.
Unless he's done something to fall out of favor, Apollo is still alive."
"Fall out of favor with whom?" Cassieopia's face contorted in
disbelief.
"With the Cylons," she took a deeper gulp of her wine.
"I don't understand," things were moving too fast for the Chief
Medical Officer, "Was he taken prisoner?"
"No," Sheba sighed and set her glass down, "He defected."
The shock that came over Cassiopeia's face was almost as deep as the
expression that she had seen so many times over the yahrens on Sheba's
face. The revelation was more shocking to her than any other thing she
could have dared envisioned in her life.
"I know," Sheba sighed, "I know how you feel. Now can you imagine how
Adama or Troy would react to that? That Adama's son and Troy's father,
and the man I was going to marry, the greatest warrior of his generation,
is a traitor?"
Abruptly, Cassiopeia reached for the bottle of wine again, poured it
full to the top of her glass and then downed it all in one gigantic gulp.
And then she promptly refilled it again.
"I guess we're in for a long night," she barely choked her words out,
"I'm listening."
Apollo's quarters aboard his command baseship had the kind of
luxurious decor that would have made any human feel comfortably at home.
The furniture and bed, were distinctly Piscean in origin, and were
reminiscent of what one might have found in the luxury resorts on
Piscera.
All plundered from the wreckage of Piscera, no doubt, he sighed. Come
to think of it, most everything that had been provided to him over the
yahrens had been Piscean in origin. He'd never understood that at first,
but then remembered that Baltar had been the Council representative from
Piscera. No doubt, it had all been originally done for his benefit, back
when he had been the one commanding this operation.
The day had ended with no further complications arising from Lucifer
or Baltar's earlier communique. Not that he would ever have to worry
about the two of them causing him problems. Long ago, Baltar had gotten
himself into trouble once too often with the Imperious Leader and it had
resulted in Apollo finally being moved up to the top position. And
Lucifer had initially been highly impressed by his new commander to the
point where an about-face would never strike the Leader as credible
without any substantive proof.
Of which there was none. Only those who were capable of looking into
Apollo's mind and soul could ever learn the answer of whether Baltar and
Lucifer's suspicions were correct.
And would they ever know for sure?
Apollo looked at himself in the mirror and almost felt a sense of
relief that he didn't look anything like the man he had been sixteen
yahrens ago. His hair turning gray, and the massively thick beard had
managed to completely conceal the features of the man who had been one of
the greatest warrirors in Colonial annals. It almost seemed to
symbolically indicate that the person he was now, was a vastly different
entity altogether.
All except for the eyes though. He tried to recall the name of the
Aquarian poet who had once written something about the eyes as "the
windows of the soul". It was only when he saw his eyes that he realized
that he couldn't try to kid himself with any thought that he was a
different enitity now. He was still Apollo. And the man that had
valiantly served the Colonial nation for more than twenty-five yahrens as
a warrior, was the same man who for the last sixteen yahrens had
faithfully served the Cylon Empire and risen to the command of an entire
task force.
He absently shut off the light and climbed into bed, trying to lose
all of his present thoughts in the relaxing darkness of sleep.
But then, after about five centons, when he seemed on the verge of
falling asleep, his closed eyes managed to discern a white flash shining
through his quarters.
He rolled over slightly and seemed to give it no thought. But a
centon later, it happened again.
"What the...." he muttered as he got to his feet and went over to the
porthole to look out.
Another light zoomed past and caused him to shield his eyes. And then
a cluster of more.
He felt his hair stand on end as the display continued. It didn't
seem to make any sense.
Or did it? Hadn't he.....
Just then, another bright flash came into his field of vision. But
this was not one of the mere light flashes he had noticed earlier. This
was something much brighter....and bigger.
He heard a deafening screech suddenly fill his ears as the light grew
brighter. And then, it became too much for Apollo and he finally blacked
out.
Chapter Eight
A full light year out from Earth, the Galactica and her Fleet of 185
ships continued its random journey among the various star systems
surrounding Earth. With the knowledge that their enemy was constantly
monitoring them from just beyond scanner range, no other course was
possible if Earth's safety was to be preserved.
Round and around we go, Boomer mused to himself as he recalled an old
childhood chant from Caprica, and when and where we stop, only the Lords
know.
The executive officer let out a sigh and looked down from the command
perch of the upper bridge on the scene below. The bridge technicians all
going about their jobs with the efficient punctuality that was expected
of them.
As his eyes wandered about, Boomer found that once again he was
looking for two people who used to be stationed there but weren't there
any longer. Omega and Rigel, the two people who through the long yahrens
had seemed like they had been permanently joined together at their bridge
consoles. But the two of them, like all the other friends from his
generation of warriors that he could remember, were dead now. In Omega's
case, it had been a piece of falling debris from the last major Cylon
attack ten yahrens ago, that had also killed Athena. With Rigel, it had
been accidental. She had grown increasingly frustrated by the
limitations of her bridge duties, and after Omega's death, she'd been
filled with a desire to get away from the bridge. And so, she had
volunteered for an inspection team to check for solium leaks in various
ships throughout the Fleet. But on her second trip out, the unstable
solium tanks of one freighter suddenly exploded, killing all one-hundred
people aboard, including Rigel and her inspection team.
Like Apollo, Sheba, Greenbean, Jolly, Giles, Brie, Bojay, Starbuck,
Omega and Athena before, Boomer had to confront losing a friend of
long-standing. And that left him virtually alone among the warriors of
the so-called "Old Guard" that had been on active flight duty at the time
of the Holocaust. Even though he'd been one of that small group who'd
learned the details of what had happened to Sheba, he'd long ago ceased
to think of her as still being alive. The only other warrior of the "Old
Guard" who was still alive, was someone he no longer spoke to, his former
wife Dietra, who was strike leader of the Galactica's Red Squadron group.
"Gets lonely up here sometimes, doesn't it?"
Boomer turned around and saw the sympathetic expression of the man he
had replaced as executive officer.
"Hello Sire Tigh," he straightened himself, "I didn't---"
"At ease Boomer," Tigh chuckled, "You shouldn't be looking up to me
anymore. After all, I'm a Councilman now."
Boomer instantly relaxed and laughed at his predecessor's
self-deprecation. In the months since Tigh had reconciled with Adama
after a feud of more than ten yahrens, the former executive officer had
once again become the man that Boomer had admired for so many yahrens.
"I'll remember that, sir," he grinned, "What brings you here to the
bridge?"
"Sentiment, I guess," Tigh sighed, "I was kind of wondering if the
place would still seem familiar after all this time."
Boomer looked about, "The funny thing is, I've had this job for ten
yahrens, and it's never seemed familiar to me."
"I know what you mean," Tigh said with empathy, "When my days as a
viper pilot came to a premature end, it must have taken me yahrens to
adjust to bridge duty."
"How'd it feel, the first time there was a major attack, and you
couldn't participate?" Boomer asked with interest.
"Oh it was miserable," Tigh shrugged his shoulders, "The first time is
like having an unscratchable itch that doesn't go away. There's just a
feeling of helplessness and waste going all through your body," he paused
to reflect, "After the second or third time though, it starts to
dissipate a little, and that's when the importance of your job here
starts to become more evident. By the fifth or sixth battle, I didn't
give it a thought anymore."
"Well, you had plenty of quick experience to build on," his successor
noted, "That hasn't been true with me. Since the last big attack ten
yahrens ago, which was before I got the job, there's been next to
nothing. That's always left me worrying if I'm going to be up to the job
if something big ever does happen."
Tigh slowly shook his head and clasped a hand on Boomer's shoulder,
"Boomer, one thing about you has never changed. You're always thinking
you're never the best man for any kind of leadership position."
"If you had to fly alongside Apollo and Starbuck for all the yahrens I
did, you'd end up with an inferiority complex too, sir," Boomer smiled
back.
"You think I didn't have one being Adama's wingmate?" Tigh returned
it, "Believe me, I know the feeling."
The current executive officer then looked out the main viewing screen,
"But you don't know the strange feeling you get when you end up outliving
the ones who gave you the complex in the first place," his tone took on a
slight edge of sadness, "I still think to this day, there must have been
some kind of Providential mistake in letting me live while Starbuck and
Apollo were the ones who got it."
The former executive officer was silent for a moment before he decided
to respond.
"Boomer," he said with resignation, "There used to be a time in my
life where I would have answered that by saying that there is no
Providence at work at all. Before we discovered Kobol, I was probably
the biggest skeptic on record. But over the yahrens, I learned to come
away with a different perspective on things."
"You came over to the Commander's way of thinking," Boomer didn't turn
around.
"I did," Tigh admitted, "I'm probably more devout than he is now, and
I think it's because I've had a chance to see that kind of Providential
destiny in action, when it came to me."
Boomer then turned around and looked at his predecessor with interest.
"If it had been up to me, I'd have stayed in the job you have now
right up until the day I died," Tigh said, "There was nothing more I
wanted to do than loyally serve Adama as his deputy. And then, some
events happened that caused me to have a falling-out with Adama that made
me quit the job I loved, and run for the Council so I could be a pain in
the ass to him. But now that we've had our reconciliation, I finally
realize that even though the feud was a terrible thing that was entirely
my fault, there was some force at work that made it come out for the
best. As a Councilman who can defuse the hotheads like Darcy and Kort,
I'm more valuable to Adama now than I ever could be if I were still the
executive officer. I might not have become a Council member under the
best of circumstances, but as painful as that experience was, it turned
out to be one thread in the tapestry of a larger plan."
Boomer smiled thinly, "So Providence was at work when Starbuck and
Apollo disappeared forever and put me into this position for a reason
that hasn't become clear, yet?"
"I think so," Tigh admitted, "I really think so."
The current executive officer looked back out the viewing screen
again, "I sure hope that reason becomes clear soon, just for my sake."
As Apollo regained consciousness, he could immediately sense an
intense brightness even before he opened his eyes. For a moment, he felt
too tense to look, and finally had to force himself to open his eyes.
The scene of intense white light and brightness almost terrified him
at first. But then, in an instant, he remembered that he had been here
before. Not once, but twice. The second time, these beings of light, or
"Guardians of the Universe" as his father had once described them, had
abducted him to give him the task of stopping a war on the planet Terra.
And the first time had been.....
Before his mind could reflect further, he saw a white garbed figure
moving towards him.
"John?" Apollo cautiously inquired, thinking it was the same one who
had appeared to him the last time, regarding the Terra situation.
But as the figure drew to within several feet of Apollo, the face
became distinct, and right away it was clear that this was someone else
altogether.
"John's occupied elsewhere," there was a characteristic grin and smirk
on the face, "They figured I was more appropriate for this job anyway,
buddy."
Apollo almost felt his heart stop in shock as he found himself looking
at an image of the man who'd been the closest friend he had ever known.
"Starbuck?" he barely managed to whisper.
"Actually here, it's Gabriel," the one-time Galactica warrior continud
to smirk, "They decided it was more appropriate for me to go by the real
name I was given by my real parents. Would you believe that old con-man
Chameleon really was my father? Turned out he forced poor Cassie to lie
about the test results. No wonder she never looked at me with a straight
face whenever his name came up."
"Starbuck," Apollo still couldn't come to terms with what he was
seeing, "What is going on? I wasn't brought aboard here just so you
could have an informal chat with me?"
At that point, the smirk faded from Starbuck's face and his expression
became one that was deathly serious.
"No Apollo," he said with equal seriousness, "There's a big reason why
you're here. You come with me, and we'll have a nice long talk about
it."
"But what's going to happen when they don't find----"
"Never mind that," Starbuck interrupted, "One thing we can do is
literally cause time to stand still. When we send you back to your
baseship, only a micron will have passed. You won't have been missed at
all."
The smirk then reappeared on his face, "And that way, I'll be able to
let you find out how a guy like me could end up in a place like this.
Even more ironic than you defecting to the Cylons, no?"
Starbuck began walking to the other end of the gigantic white room,
and it took Apollo a long moment before he found the nerve to follow him.
Chapter Nine
The shock Cassiopeia felt after hearing Sheba's revelation about
Apollo had still not lessened as she found herself downing another full
glass of wine in several quick gulps.
"Good Lord," the Chief Medical Officer struggled to recover her voice,
"You can't mean that Apollo actually...."
"Why would I make that up?" Sheba gently retorted, "Can you think of
anything else that would cause me to go over the edge into a black pit of
mental illness?"
"No but.....God that's just not what any of us ever would have thought
in a million yahrens."
"What did you think it was, all this time?" a faint mirthless smile
formed at the corners of Sheba's mouth, "A simple case of Apollo falling
off a cliff, or some Cylon shooting him dead? That's the kind of thing I
could have sobbed my heart out about for a sectan and learned to live
with. But not this," her voice trailed off and she looked the other way,
"Not this. Especially when it was all my fault."
"Your fault?" Cassiopeia's eyes widened even more, "How could it have
been your fault that Apollo became a traitor?"
Sheba let out a sad sigh and absently toyed with her half-filled wine
glass, "Because Apollo made the mistake yahrens earlier of falling in
love with me, that's why. If he and I hadn't loved each other so much,
he wouldn't have done it."
There was an uneasy silence that lasted for several moments before
Cassiopeia found the strength to ask her next question.
"How could that be?" the Chief Medical Officer asked, "What could one
possibly have to do with the other?"
"I'll tell you," her friend sighed and settled deeper into the
oversized chair she was sitting in, "You'll soon see why."
Sheba began by recounting the details of the Cylon fighter crashing on
the desolate planet.....And then all that happened next.....
...."Oh," Apollo groaned and put a hand to his forehead once the
fighter had come to a stop, "Sheba, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Apollo," her voice sounded more normal as she unhitched
herself from the straps, "Looks as though we made it all right."
"What a time for this piece of Cylon felgercarb to go bad on us," he
leaned forward to press the switch that would activate the identification
beacon.
But the board did not light up as it was supposed to.
"I don't believe this," Apollo's face twisted in disbelief, "This can
not be happening."
"What's wrong?" Sheba got up and leaned over his shoulder, "Why isn't
that working?"
"I have no idea," he shook his head, "Boomer said that the beacon is
tied into a simple computer chip totally independent of all wiring on
this ship. Theoretically, this thing should work even if the whole ship
broke apart and the panel was all that was left."
"Looks as though Boomer's less of a whiz than he thinks he is," Sheba
grunted as she resumed her seat, "Where does that leave us now?"
"In a lot of trouble," Apollo grimaced, "The Galactica's headed
straight into a trap and will no doubt be far too preoccupied to think of
going back and looking for us. If we're going to get off this rock,
we'll have to think of a way ourselves."
"How?"
"Therein lies the problem," her fiancee looked out the cockpit window
at the rock-filled landscape and then cast a wry glance at her, "And
unless we think of something real soon, it looks as if we found a way to
elope to a planet of our own after all."
Sheba smiled back at him and also looked out at the scene, "Not what I
had in mind. I was thinking more of a nice lush jungle or some rolling
green hills and valleys."
For a moment, they remained seated, looking out at the desolate scene.
Each trying to come up with an answer to some difficult questions
confronting them.
"Apollo," Sheba finally broke the silence, "I think it might be a good
idea to start seeing if there's anything on this rock that might be of
use to us. If the Cylons were in orbit around this planet, there's a
chance they might have had some fighters or equipment stationed here."
"Possible but not likely," Apollo responded, "I don't think they would
have bothered to do that, especially since it wasn't necessary. Of
course in all the haste of negotiating a smooth landing, I didn't bother
to scan for any signs of fighters or equipment."
She looked at him with a slightly cool expression, "Can you get this
ship to fly without anything else?"
He shook his head, "I still don't even know what caused it to crash."
"Then I don't think we have much choice," Sheba said, "If we want to
get out of here, we have to start doing some quick investigating. We
still have our portable scans, don't we?"
"We do."
"Then let's get going."
Apollo finally nodded and rose from his seat, "Okay."
After using the manual controls to open the ramp of the craft, they
both stepped out to the landscape. The air was totally breathable, yet
seemed to have a slight foul tinge. Overhead, the sky cast a slightly
reddish glow that blended with the rock formations and cliffs around
them.
"Okay, let's activate scans for alien metal substances," Apollo took
out his device and pressed the switch. To his relief he heard the
familiar whirring sound of the equipment's power coming on. Sheba did
likewise with hers.
They both took several steps in opposite directions, each focusing
their scan beams on as wide a perimeter as was possible. For over a
minute, there was only the monotonous click indicating nothing
significant.
But then, Apollo's scanner suddenly began to emit a series of beeps
and his eyes lit up.
"Sheba, I think I've got something! It's coming from that cave
formation in the distance."
At the same time, Sheba's scanner also changed pitch from a steady
click to a fast rhythm of beeps, "I've got one too. Mine's somewhere on
top of that cliff to the northeast."
"Then we've got two promising contacts to deal with," Apollo noted,
"How should we deal with this?"
Sheba gave him a thoughtful look of contemplation as she re-consulted
her scanner readout.
"Two things suggest themself, if we've got good contact readings from
a cave and the top of a cliff," she said, "If the Cylons kept an
auxiliary garrison here, then a cave would be a perfect storage facility
for spare parts and ammunition."
"And the cliff tops would be perfect for extra fighters," Apollo
nodded, "It seems to fit. Although it could be something totally useless
for our purpose of trying to get out of here."
"We won't know until we find out, will we?" she smiled crookedly,
"Let's save some time and split up. You take your contact, I'll take
mine. We'll keep in touch on our mini-coms."
Apollo hesitated slightly, "You think that's a good idea?"
"We need to cover as much as we can in very little time, Apollo," her
tone was matter-of-fact, "I don't think we have any choice."
Her fiancee remained where he was, and as Sheba noticed his still
uneasy expression, she came up to him and placed her hand on his cheek.
"Apollo," she said gently, "We're both good warriors who can take care
of ourselves. Now let's have some faith in each other to do what has to
be done."
She kissed him on the lips, and Apollo almost instinctively pulled her
tight to him so that it became a sustained, passionate embrace.
When they finally released each other, Apollo seemed more at ease,
"Okay," he smiled faintly, "Let's get moving. We'll keep in contact
every five centons."
Sheba smiled back at him and they started to move off in opposite
directions. Apollo toward the caves on the southwest horizon, and Sheba
toward the rocky path that led to the cliffs to the northeast.
It took Apollo more than half a centaur to reach the entrance to the
cave formation. Each step that brought him closer, was causing his
scanner reading to beep even louder.
"Sheba?" he pulled out his mini-com, "How're you doing?"
"Halfway up the path," she grunted back, "I should be at the top in
another twenty centons. My reading's getting stronger, but I can't see
anything yet."
"I just reached the cave entrance," he said, "I should know what's in
there on my next report."
"Good luck."
Apollo took one step toward the cave entrance, and then abruptly
stopped, as he instinctively switched on the mini-com again, "Sheba?"
"Yeah?"
He skipped a beat, "I love you."
"I love you too," her voice was still grunting from the exhaust she
felt at climbing up the increasingly steep path, "Now back to work,
Captain, or I won't be recommending you for a decoration when we get
back."
He chuckled lightly as he switched it off and entered the cave. The
ceiling rose to eight feet above his head, giving him plenty of room to
move comfortably about. Immediately, he noticed that in the distance,
there was still some dim light as opposed to total blackness, which
indicated that there was conceivably another light source somewhere.
The scanner reading continued to beep louder and louder as Apollo
moved deeper and deeper into the cave.
"Not much further," he said under his breath, "Not much further."
He was beginning to feel the anxious tension rise inside him. The
need to find something, anything that would get them off this planet soon
and back to the impending battle between the Galactica and the Cylons
that was probably going to be needing their presence in more ways than
could be imagined.
Not that he had doubts in Starbuck's ability to take over as Acting
Strike Leader. There was still a matter of professional pride though, in
not being there when he was most needed. And if he could not help but
feel that frustration, he couldn't begin to imagine what Sheba, the
daughter of the most impulsive of warriors in the annals of Colonial
military history, was thinking about missing the battle.
Apollo had now gone more than four hundred feet inside the cave, and
could no longer see the entrance. Louder and louder the beep grew......
And suddenly, without any warning, the beeping stopped and reverted to
the slow, steady click that indicated nothing.
"What the frack?" Apollo said aloud as he was caught off-guard by the
sudden change in reading. He fidgeted with the scanner momentarily,
trying to figure out why this piece of equipment had now malfunctioned.
But as the clicking continued, Apollo began to wonder if this time, it
was not a case of malfunctioning equipment.
No sooner had he begun pondering that thought, when he suddenly heard
a rumbling noise from behind and above him. He could feel the ground
start to shake beneath his feet, and could feel dirt falling on his head
from the ceiling above.
In an awful instant, he knew that a cave-in was taking place.
Apollo began dashing back toward the distant entrance, but he was
immediately pummelled by a massive amount of dirt and small rocks falling
from overhead. He struggled to get his mini-com out, but another rock
suddenly struck him in the hand and jarred it loose into one of the
rising piles of debris.
He shielded himself back against the wall of the cave, and covered his
arms over his head, waiting for the terror-filled moment to pass.
Instead, it continued.
"What's happening?" he shouted aloud in frustration, as his head
continued to be pummelled by more falling objects.
He now began to suspect that everything that had been happening up to
this point could not possibly be an accident. It could only have been
happening by design. Some hideous kind of design.
Feeling somewhat winded from the climb up the path, Sheba removed her
uniform jacket and wiped away the sweat forming on her brow. She set the
garment down on a rock and decided to retrieve it later on her way back
down.
She paused to consult the scanner. It was beeping even more loudly.
It grew in intensity as she drew closer to the top, and she became more
convinced that once she reached it, she would find an abandoned Cylon
fighter there.
She was only ten feet from the top, and pulled out her mini-com,
"Apollo, I'm almost at the top. How's your situation?"
There was no response.
"Apollo?" she frowned and held the mini-com closer, "Apollo, do you
copy?"
Still nothing.
"Apollo?" a note of alarm crept into her voice, "Answer!"
After waiting another ten microns, she squeezed the device even
tighter, "Apollo, why the frack won't you answer?!" she shouted.
No sooner had she finished, when she suddenly felt the ground start
moving beneath her feet.
"What--" she was totally unprepared for the sudden seismic quake. It
refused to abate in its intensity for more than ten microns, throwing her
off-balance. She tried to reach for something to grab on to, but there
was nothing but rocks, and all of them were tumbling back down the path
and over the side to plummet more than two hundred feet to the ground
below.
She let out a terrified exclamation, as the rumbling continued to the
point where she totally lost her balance and equilibrium, and stumbled
toward the side of the incline.
As she neared the chasm that would lead to a two hundred foot drop to
her certain death, she spotted a small, thick branch cropping out from
the side of the cliff. She instantly knew that it represented her only
chance for survival.
Sheba felt herself being thrust airborne and going over the edge. She
reached out with all her strength, and her right hand managed to grab the
base of the branch.
For another twenty microns the rumbling continued. Her legs dangled
precariously above the ground two hundred feet below, with only her grasp
on the branch representing the dividing line between life and death.
Inside, Sheba felt her body shaking and trembling. Only the
adrenaline she felt from sheer terror gave her the strength to hold on to
the branch.
But she knew right away that she had only bought herself a brief
respite. There was nothing else she could grab hold of. And she was too
far from the top of the cliff to pull herself up to safety.
Throughout her many yahrens of service as warrior she'd always been
prepared to accept the possibility of dying. But the thought of being
killed in a painless, instant result of combat had been the only
conception of death she'd been prepared for. This was something
different, and far more terrifying.
"Help!" she screamed in terror, "Help me, please!"
But she knew there was no one who could possibly answer her. And that
only made the situation even more terrifying. The cold, brutal knowledge
that she was all alone on a desolate planet. That she would die in a
lonely wasteland with no one around to take notice or even care.
She began to sob in frightened hysteria. Not simply because of the
precarious state she found her in, but because of the powerful sense of
loneliness and abandonment taking hold of her.
Consuming her entire heart and soul completely.
"Oh God, help me," she whimpered as she vainly pressed her body
against the cliff surface, "Please somebody help me."
"Let me help you."
It took Sheba a minute to comprehend that she had just heard a voice.
She managed to brush away her tousled hair from over her eyes with her
left hand and shook her head, refusing to believe that her mournful plea
could have been answered.
"Let me help you," the gentle sounding voice repeated.
Slowly, Sheba managed to crane her head up toward the top of the
cliff.
And then, she let out a stunned gasp when she saw leaning over the
edge of the cliff, with an outstretched hand and a warm smile, the face
of someone she had hoped never to see again for the rest of her life.
"Hello Sheba," Count Iblis never looked more benevolent, "I said there
would be another time and another place, didn't I?"
As soon as the seismic tremor of the cave-in subsided, Apollo was
forced to dig his way out from over three feet of dirt and rocks before
he could finally get himself back on his feet. His weapons pack and
mini-com were gone and buried somewhere under the deluge, and his jacket
was so torn to the point where he angrily hurled it off to give himself
some more mobility.
He put a hand to his face and felt blood streaming from a cut on his
cheek. Apart from that and a bruise or two though, he felt as though
he'd emerged relatively unscathed.
"Damn!" he shouted in frustration, "God damn!"
One look at the mountain of debris piled up to the wall told him that
there was no hope of trying to get back to the main entrance. If he was
to get out of here before he suffocated to death, he had to get out of
here. And fast.
As he looked about trying to think of a new plan of action, his
attention was drawn to the ceiling of the cave some ten feet above.
There were a number of pinprick shafts of sunlight streaming through
which indicated that if he could make a hole big enough, he might be able
to pull himself out on to the sloping incline of the cliff that rose
above the cave.
At the moment, there was literally no other option if he was to get
out, and find out what had happened....and if Sheba was all right.
He briefly thought of digging through the mounds to look for his laser
pistol, which could make a hole big and quick enough. After about ten
microns of effort though, he realized that it would take up too much time
to do that. He would have to try another tact.
Apollo made a quick calculation and determined that if he could get
his footing on the top of the piles, it would place him only four feet
from the ceiling. If he could stabilize himself there, that would give
him a chance.
Slowly, with all the delicateness he could manage in order to maintain
his footing. He managed to reach the top of the mound and got a closer
look at the ceiling. It seemed to be composed of two feet of solid dirt
that represented the ground layer of an unstable path above.
It would take some effort, but it was certainly manageable.
Well, he thought with grim irony as he rolled up the sleeves of his
tunic, I always said that man's ingenuity was more important than his
reliance on technology. Just as well that I don't have a laser pistol to
help me out of this.
And then, he began to claw at the dirt, trying to force open a big
enough hole that would enable him to get out and learn some answers that
he was already beginning to develop some inklings about.
The Cylon fighter malfunctioning for no reason. The ID beacon not
working. False readings of metallic objects and then a too-convenient
seismic quake and a cave-in.
There was only one person Apollo felt was capable of engineering all
that.
As soon as she saw his face, Sheba was too stunned beyond belief to
say anything. She had long ago tried with all her strength to block out
her memory of the last encounter she'd had with this evil outcast who had
beguiled her, and gained control of her, and who would have controlled
her for all eternity had not Apollo intervened to save her. An
intervention that had cost Apollo his life, but which had then been
restored by the miraculous beings of white light who represented the
forces in opposition to Iblis.
The thought that at this moment, the most frightening and desperate of
her entire life, that she would have to look Iblis in the eye again, was
almost too much to bear.
"Do not be afraid, princess," Iblis continued to speak in that
soothing gentle voice that had cast a spell on her once before, "Take my
hand, and save yourself. Recognize at last, that I truly am the one who
cares for you above all. All those who claim to love you have abandoned
you, and left you to this horrible terrible position you now find
yourself in. I alone, can save you."
She impulsively shook her head. She knew it could only be lies. Evil
twisted lies spoken in a kind way to try and gain control of her. Her
mind knew that, and understood that, and so desperately wanted to shut
Iblis off completely.
But when she tried to divert herself by looking down, she saw only the
frightening expanse of the rocky surface two hundred feet below, she felt
her body quiver and shake even more. As much as her mind could scream at
her that it was Iblis she needed to fear more than the chasm below, every
other part of her emotional psyche kept screaming something else at her.
The terror of the drop below to a certain death was too tangible a
reality confronting her, to make her mind think clearly about the greater
danger that Iblis posed to her.
Was this what happened to all people? Did moments of frightened
terror such as this cause them to lose all sense of perspective, and
think only first and foremost about the instinct for immediate survival?
"Let go of your doubts about me, Sheba," Iblis went on, "I am your
only hope. I am the only one who can save you."
"No," she whimpered in shame and sorrow that she wasn't finding the
strength to just let go of the branch and accept death as her only way
out, "No."
"You've been deceived about me, Sheba," the gentleness only increased
as his hand reached further down the side of the cliff, "And who are the
ones who've filled your mind with all the lies about who I am?"
He then added a pointed edge to his gentleness, "Your father,
Commander Cain. Where is he? Off somewhere among the stars because he
didn't think enough of you when he left you behind aboard the Galactica.
And Apollo? He has just shown that he can not be there for you at the
time when you needed him most."
"No," Sheba whimpered again and tried to turn away. But the petrified
terror of what lay below was starting to prove too much for her.
"Yes," the arm reached down further, so that it was only three feet
from Sheba's head now, "Your father can not help you. Apollo can not
help you. Only I can help you, Sheba. Only I can protect you from any
further harm. Take my hand, and be not afraid forever."
Oh God, she thought with sick horror. Why was all this happening?
Why....
She found to her horror that she was rapidly losing her ability to
reason. The terror now virtually controlled her, completely. Making her
think things she never would have given thought to before. Forcing her
to do things she never would have contemplated doing in a million
yahrens.
Forcing her to finally raise her left arm toward him. Extending it
closer and closer.....until her hand finally clasped his.
"Come on!" Apollo found himself shouting to let off some of the steam
building up inside him, as he continued clawing away at the dirt surface
of the ceiling with his bare hands and some small rocks to use as
implements, "Come on!"
He had to go through the nuisance of more dirt falling his face as it
started to give way after what seemed like an eternity to him. After
some more frantic clawing, the ceiling parted above and a large patch of
sunlight streamed through.
Apollo had to jump to get his hands firmly on the opening of the hole.
On his first try, his hands slipped and he couldn't hang on, dropping
back into the pile of debris and dirt and then all the way back to the
floor of the cave.
"Frack, felgercarb and shit!" he swore as he got to his feet and made
a running sprint up the debris hill, followed by another leap toward the
hole.
This time, Apollo held on and he pulled himself up. After another
struggle, he finally poked his head into the daylight and clambered out
on to the unstable surface of the pathway leading up this particular
cliff.
He looked off into the distance and saw the cliff that Sheba had
headed towards, about a half mile away. He squinted hard to try and make
out something that seemed to be.....
At that point, Apollo virtually felt his heart stop and drop to his
knees.
"No," he shook his head and felt tears well up in his eyes, "Dear God,
not again."
And then, he started sprinting with all the speed his tired body could
summon.
As soon as Sheba's hand touched Iblis's, she was immediately lifted up
as if she were as light a feather. With almost no effort, she was set
down alongside him, where she gazed at him with an intense, almost
reverent stare. For a long moment, the Dark One looked her over with
intense admiration and pride.
"Well done," he continued to speak in that soothing, lilting tone,
"Well done my princess. At last you have seen the light of truth, and
you shall be rewarded."
Count Iblis began to make a motion of his robe. One that would
transport them both forever out of the dominion and dimension of where
they were now.
But before he could complete the gesture, there was a sudden piercing
scream, bordering more like the plaintive howl of an animal, "IBLIS!"
Count Iblis lowered the folds of his robe and looked down the pathway
with amusement as he saw a disheveled and dirty Apollo stumble and
stagger up the path.
"My compliments, Captain," he bowed his head slightly, "You're more
resourceful at digging your way out of a cave-in, than I figured."
Apollo reached the top of the cliff and an expression of sick horror
came over him the instant he saw Sheba's glassy-eyed stare of reverence
at Iblis.
"Oh no," he instantly felt his body convulsing with sobs, "Oh no,
Sheba, please no."
"She made the only sensible decision," there was a taunting edge in
Iblis' voice, "There was no other hope for her. And so, she freely gave
herself to me."
"Only because you stacked the fracking deck with your gallmonging,
sneaky deceptions!" Apollo roared, "You caused all this. Our ship
malfunctioning, the false readings, the cave-ins. You put her in a
position where she had no choice."
"But still made of her own free will, Apollo," Iblis smiled
malevolently, "She still had the choice to reject me. But it would seem
that fifteen yahrens has made her a great deal wiser than at the time of
our last encounter."
"You monster," there were tears streaming down Apollo's face, "You
evil monster. All this time waiting to spring your little trap of
revenge--"
"And I certainly picked an opportune time, with the Galactica walking
into the outstretched arms of the Cylon Fleet, didn't I?"
he continued to smirk, "I've learned not to be as impulsive as I was the
last time. I can see the advantages my discipline has brought me this
time."
"You---" Apollo started to charge him with his hands poised to grab
Iblis by the throat.
"It won't do any good, Captain," Iblis continued to smile as he shook
his head, which caused Apollo to stop in his tracks, "Nothing you do can
affect me. And I'm not going to be fool enough to harm you this time.
You might as well face the truth. Your precious Sheba is mine forever.
And there is nothing you can do about it. Live with that thought for the
rest of your pitiful life."
He took Sheba by the hand and started to make that sweeping gesture of
his white robe that would bring the whole matter to an irrevocable end.
The soul of the woman Apollo loved more than any other person in the
entire universe would be lost forever in eternal bondage to the Dark One.
"Wait!" Apollo shouted, "Wait, Iblis! Let me make you an offer!"
Once again, the Dark One stopped his gesture in mid-motion.
"An offer, Captain?" he seemed amused, "What do you wish to offer me?"
"Let her go," his voice was choking with emotion, "Give her soul back
to her, and I'll do anything you command except sell my own soul to you."
Iblis lifted an eyebrow, and stared at Apollo in amused contemplation.
"Would you please repeat that, Captain Apollo?"
"Anything short of my own soul is yours to command of me," there was
obvious pleading and begging in Apollo's voice, "Absolutely anything you
can think of. Just let Sheba alone. Give her soul back to her," Apollo
then dropped to his knees, "Damn it Iblis, I'm begging. Anything you
wish of me!"
Iblis began to laugh again and took a step toward him, "Oh, but you
are a wonderfully pathetic sight, Captain Apollo. You, the only person
bold enough to challenge me, as you did the last time. Now, you drop to
your knees and beg me to let your precious Sheba go. Yet through it all,
you maintain your standards by insisting that your own soul remain
protected."
"That point I won't give," Apollo clenched his teeth, "I will not
commit the worst sin any human is capable of, but any one of an infinite
number of other things, is yours to command. There must be something
that would give your far greater pleasure than possessing my soul or
Sheba's."
The Dark One continued to look thoughtfully at him for what seemed
like an eternity. Then, he slowly nodded and grinned the broadest, most
wicked grin Apollo had ever seen.
"Yes," he said, "Yes, you reason well with me, Captain Apollo. What
is the mere possession of one soul when compared with the everlasting
damage that can be done to a large number of my enemies?"
Abruptly, he let go of Sheba's hand and slightly pushed her to one
side.
"You'll let her go?" Apollo pleaded, "You'll give her soul back and
never bother her again?"
"Oh yes," Iblis nodded and continued to grin, "Little good that it
will do her."
Apollo slowly got to his feet, wiped away the tears from his eyes and
looked at Sheba. She seemed to come out of her trance-like state and
shook her head to readjust to her surroundings.
As soon as her eyes focused on Iblis, she recoiled in horror and then,
when she saw Apollo she ran over to him, "Apollo!"
"Don't Sheba," her fiancee held up a hand motioning her to stop,
"Don't say anything. Just...always know that I love you so much."
"How tender of you Captain," Iblis mocked, "I've kept my word, and now
it is time for you to keep yours," he skipped a beat, "Apart from your
soul in eternal bondage to me, you did say anything, Captain?"
"Yes," Apollo nodded with sad resignation, "I said anything."
Iblis then looked up into the sky, "You heard this?" he shouted, "You
heard him say this of his own free will? Is it understood by all of you
that I have not violated any of the rules of the compact?"
As Iblis' words echoed throughout the cliffs, he looked back at Apollo
and the horrified Sheba, and resumed his low wicked tone, "They
understand," he smiled with that menacing tinge, "They understand this
situation very clearly, and there is nothing they can do."
"Get it over with, Iblis," Apollo stood at attention like a solider
ready to face the firing squad, "I'm ready."
"Oh yes," he nodded, "I have something very interesting planned for
you, Captain Apollo."
He then motioned his arm in a sweeping gesture....and in the wink of
an eye, Apollo vanished.
"Apollo!" Sheba screamed and looked at Iblis with venomous hatred in
her eyes, "You gallmonging monster, what did you do?"
"It's not my doing, Sheba," he shrugged ever so slightly in a
nonchalant manner, "It's what he said he was willing to do. All in the
name of his silly lovesick feelings for your soul."
"WHERE IS HE?" she screamed at the top of her lungs, her wail echoing
for almost ten microns throughout the cliffs.
"You want to know?" the faint, evil-tinged smile remained present, as
Iblis reveled in the moment of the scene, "You really want to know? Very
well. But first some, background to set the stage."
He motioned his arm, and then, a swirling cloud came up, obscuring
Sheba's view of the surrounding cliffs. And in the center of the cloud,
she could see the scenes of a battle unfolding.
"As you two correctly surmised, your Fleet has wandered into a trap.
Three Cylon baseships in waiting."
Sheba watched in frustrated horror as she saw the scene unfold.
"The sheer numbers make this quite unlike any other battle you've had
to fight," Iblis went on, "This day proves to be the last for many
warriors you know. For the one called Giles."
A vision of an exploding viper passed in front of Sheba.
"And Brie."
Another explosion.
"And Greenbean."
Yet another, and Sheba felt herself feeling racked with guilt over
both Apollo's unknown plight and her inability to take part in what was
happening.
"And Jolly."
Sheba slowly shook her head, "Where is Apollo?" she whined with only a
little less intensity than before.
"You shall soon find out," Iblis motioned and another vision filled
the swirling cloud, "Observe how a surprise forward thrust from one viper
group leaves the lead basestar damaged. And as Baltar, sitting safely on
the third basestar that is far back, ponders his next tactical thrust,
this scene happens."
Her mouth the fell open in horror as she saw a calm and collected
Apollo being led by two centurions and Lucifer into Baltar's throne room.
"You have captured, Captain Apollo?" there was a gleeful edge in the
human traitor's voice.
"I was not capture Commander Baltar," there was nothing but polite
respect in Apollo's voice as he stepped forward, "I have come here
voluntarily."
From his perch, Baltar frowned in wide-eyed disbelief.
"Captain, do not insult my intelligence with your jokes--"
"I do not come to joke with you, Baltar," Apollo remained deferential
and courteous, "I come to offer my services in the Cylon Empire, and to
defect."
There was stunned shock on Baltar's face.
"Yes sir," Apollo got down on one knee, "I renounce forever my
allegiance to the Colonial nation, and am willing to provide you with one
important piece of information that will give you the key to destroying
all that remains of the human species."
Baltar continued to look down in pure befuddled bafflement.
"Lucifer, if this is a joke you are trying to pull---"
"It is no joke, Baltar," the IL Cylon said, "He came to us willingly."
"Break off the attack," Baltar said swiftly, "I need some time to talk
with you Captain, and to make sure that this is not tied in to some kind
of trap of your father's to divert us during this battle. Lucifer,
recall all fighters and have us pull back, now!"
"By your command," the IL bowed and departed with the two centurions.
Alone with Apollo, Baltar lowered his throne chair, got out, and came
up to Apollo, looking him over with a critical eye.
"What are you up to?" he whispered, "What are you up to?"
"The same thing you were up to, fifteen yahrens ago," Apollo said
casually, "I have come to realize the futility of taking part in a
hopeless campaign of resistance against the Cylon Empire. That is why I
now offer my services as one who can help provide the key to not just the
final destruction of the Galactica, but of the last remaining human
colony, the planet Earth."
"You'll forgive me if I do not seem convinced," Baltar hissed, "What
can you do to convince me that you are in earnest?"
Apollo smiled, "I will begin by telling you where the Galactica is
headed. The exact coordinates for where Earth lies, somewhere far off in
the distance."
As Sheba watched, the scene unfold before her, she kept trying to
assure herself over and over that this was all a deception. That even if
the image itself was real, Apollo was planning some kind of deception.
"The coordinates which represent the exact heading the Galactica will
remain on even after this battle ends, are on epsilon vector 22...."
"NO!" Sheba screamed at the image.
"Course reckoning 0000 point nine."
The image and the swirling cloud abruptly vanished from view, and
Sheba stood there, frozen in shock. There was nothing deceptive about
those coordinates. By revealing them, Apollo had just sealed his fate.
"You see?" Iblis's boisterous laugh boomed from behind her, mocking
her with all the cruel taunts he was capable of summoning, "Out of his
pitiful love for you and his pitiful concern for your pathetic little
soul, your lover Apollo has committed the highest possible mortal crime
of treason against the state. For the rest of his life, he is an
outcast, even lowlier than that foolish prig Baltar, and a traitor
against all that he ever stood for. And who is responsible for it,
Sheba? Who is responsible for his plight, and the pain and trauma now to
be felt by Commander Adama, and Cadet Troy, and Captain Athena, and
Lieutenant Starbuck?"
The Dark One skipped a beat and smiled one last time, "You are
responsible Sheba. His love for you brought him to this. You are
responsible."
He turned her around and looked right into her horror-filled eyes.
"The identification beacon in your ship now functions," Iblis lowered
his voice, "Soon, they will come. They will rescue you. And you, will
have to explain everything to them. To Adama. And Troy. And Athena.
And Starbuck. And even to your father one day in the future."
The Dark One then backed away from Sheba and once again made that
sweeping motion of his robes.
"Goodbye forever, my princess," he said, "I no longer have need of
your soul. I think I have extracted a far more satisfying outcome for
myself. You shall never see me again, but always live with the
realization of all that I have said about the responsibility you bear for
Apollo's plight."
And then, as Apollo had done before, Count Iblis disappeared in the
wink of an eye. Leaving Sheba all alone on the cliff top, with only the
sounds of the wind echoing around.
For more than five centons, Sheba's mind was a blank horror as she
found herself slowly walking down the pathway back to the bottom.
When she reached the rock formation of the surface though, the
terrible weight of what Iblis had said to her over and over, came
crashing down on her with a force so great, that it was as if her mind
had let go and gone tumbling into that deep chasm she had tried to
protect herself from.
And then, rationality left Sheba completely and an endless dark ocean
of grief, guilt and shame took over and consumed her completely. She
collapsed to the ground and pounded her fists against the rocks and the
dirt with loud, hysterical, convulsive sobs, managing only to say several
forlorn phrases of regret and sorrow over and over again. "Apollo, my
fault," followed by, "Apollo, I love you.".....
"I think you know the rest," Sheba finally stopped fidgeting with her
wine glass and set it down on the end table next to her chair, "About
what happened when the shuttle arrived....and Starbuck and Bojay found
me. And how..." she shook her head and shuddered as the memory went
through her mind, "I didn't recognize either one of them at that point.
All I remember is seeing Bojay's laser pistol, and instantly, I just
wanted to die. I just wanted to find a way to pay for what I did.
Because all I could keep thinking of, was that Iblis was right about
everything he said. And the thought of having to tell Adama, Troy or
anyone else about that, was more terrible a prospect than dying, as far
as I was concerned. And when Bojay tried to stop me, I was literally
insane at that point. It was only when I heard the gun go off and saw
him collapse to the floor that I finally had a chance to realize that
here was another horrible thing I was responsible for. I had made the
man I loved a traitor, and now I had caused the death of a man I loved as
a brother. That was when I....went into my shell and never came
out....until tonight."
The early morning light of dawn had begun to stream through the
windows, casting its orange glow around the living room. And Cassiopeia
remained frozen in the position she'd been in ever s since Sheba had
begun her narrative. A narrative she had not interrupted at any time for
questions, as her shock and incredulity increased with each new thing
Sheba revealed.
"Well Cassie," Sheba sighed, "It's finally out in the open to one
other person. And while I'm not going to let this thing destroy the rest
of my life, I really don't think I can afford to let it destroy the rest
of Adama's life or Troy's."
The Chief Medical Officer remained frozen in silence.
Sheba finally leaned forward and nudged her on the shoulder, "Cassie?"
That finally shook her out of her stupor. She vigorously shook her
head and stretched herself to ease the cramps that had set in from not
changing her position for hours.
"Dear God," she whispered, "Dear God, it's so...." she then shook her
head again and struggled desperately to resume the posture that was more
befitting her position as Chief Medical Officer, "Sheba, look....I..."
"If this is your reaction then I can't tell anyone else about it," she
smiled crookedly, without mirth, "The subject isn't as close to you as it
is with Adama and Troy."
"You're right," Cassiopeia nodded, "You're absolutely right."
"Then they don't ever have to know," a firm edge entered her voice,
"Why should anyone else have to know? Can't I just be allowed to try and
make something left of my miserable life without ever having to subject
myself to seeing their reaction, and their learning something about
Apollo that goes against everything they knew and loved about him?"
Cassiopeia stopped to contemplate for a moment, "It could be done,"
she mused, "Dr. Jackson said that memory-loss is a typical side-effect
from taking these kind of trianol levels so, it wouldn't pose that many
problems."
"Then make it stick, Cassiopeia," Sheba pleaded softly, "Make it stick
with them. I'm the only person who had any right to suffer because of
this. Don't let that happen to the other people I still care about.
Please."
"I won't," Cassiopeia nodded firmly, "I won't."
"Thank you," Sheba finally rose from her chair and flexed her self,
"Oh God, I think I need to go back to sleep."
"You do that," the Chief Medical Officer kept nodding, "I'll be in
later with your next trianol dose."
As Sheba slowly made her way back to the guest bedroom, Cassiopeia
remained where she was on the sofa, and once again poured herself a drink
from the nearly empty wine bottle.
Incredible, she thought. I'm back to keeping secrets again to protect
people, only this time the shoe is on the other foot.
She would certainly honor Sheba's wishes for now, but as she downed
the last of the wine, Cassiopeia could only ask herself if it was
possible for this whole sick, tragic story to finally be brought to some
kind of real closure. So long as the lies had to continue for some
people, she wasn't sure if that could ever be true.
Chapter Ten
"Well old buddy," the image of Starbuck smiled as he motioned Apollo
to sit down at a table located at the other end of the vast room, "I
guess the time has come for a badly needed clearing of the air."
"Definitely," Apollo was still in a state of near-shock at the sight
of his friend in these surroundings, "How did you end up here among
these....these...."
"Struggling for the right word?" Starbuck continued to smile,
"Sometimes even I don't know what the best description is. Some people
would call us angels, others Guardians of the Universe, instruments of
God. Almost all of them are correct to one extent or another. Anyway,"
he sat down opposite from him, "My journey that brought me here, began
one yahren after your disappearance. Boomer and I were flying a routine
patrol when we ran into an advance probe of the first major Cylon attack
since your disappearance. I think you know the attack I'm talking
about."
Apollo lowered his head as if in shame, and dimly nodded.
"To make a long story short, I took a serious hit to my main engines
and navigational controls. Just like at Atilla all those yahrens before,
I was out of control and headed for a crash landing. Boomer promised to
get help for me and come back, just like you and he did at Atilla, but I
had a feeling history wasn't going to repeat itself this time. It was
clear to me that the attacking phalanx coming down on the Galactica was
so massive that I didn't have a prayer of hoping that they'd be able to
stop and send back a rescue team for me. So when I crashed on a desolate
looking planet, not quite unlike the rock you and Sheba were forced down
on, I began to realize that my much vaunted luck was starting to run out
on me."
"So you died on that planet and---"
"Whoa buddy," Starbuck held up a hand, "Don't jump too far ahead. A
lot of things happened in between. Starting with when I found the
wreckage of one of the Cylon fighters I'd shot down."
"And you found out about me from the data tapes."
His friend shook his head, "Apollo, you're losing your touch when it
comes to deductive reasoning. I didn't find out about what happened to
you until I got here. You don't come into the story until much later."
"Sorry," his old friend sighed, "It's just that my name would have
been in the data manual by that point."
"Just as well that I didn't bother with that. Anyway, I was more
interested in fixing something other than the data tapes."
"Which was?"
"One of the centurions," Starbuck leaned back and it almost seemed to
Apollo as if he should have been smoking one of his customary cigars in
that posture, "Crazy as it sounds, I just found myself getting lonely on
that rock. I had absolutely nothing else to occupy myself when I wasn't
scavenging for food and water, so I decided to reactivate the centurion
that was least damaged, and see if I could have someone to talk to."
"Something that would kill you as soon as it came back on," Apollo
shook his head with an air of incredulity, "That was taking a big risk."
"I know, but what did I have to lose?" the one-time brash warrior
shrugged his shoulders, "At the most, I had probably a sectan or two at
best before I'd be dead altogether. There was an active distress beacon
operating on the Cylon fighter, so it wouldn't be long before some recon
teams from the baseship came to investigate. Maybe I figured that by
reactivating a Cylon I could make friends with, he'd put in a good word
for me once his buddies came."
"Did he?" Apollo put a hand to his massively bearded chin and almost
smiled wryly through his whiskers.
"You're still getting too far ahead of the story, Apollo," Starbuck
gently chided, "Anyway, once I put him back together, and christened him
'Cy' for no other reason, we got off to a rocky start. He kept spouting
off his usual programmed mantra about humans and Cylons as enemies. But
since I had control of the switches that determined whether he lived or
not, it got him to soften a little. Over a couple days we actually
formed a strange kind of tolerance for each other, if not actual
friendship. I got on his circuits a little though, when I tried to teach
him pyramid and proceeded to extend my penchant for not playing fair."
Apollo shook his head in amazement, "That has got to be the most
bizarre kind of sight imaginable."
Abruptly, all the humor faded from Starbuck's face, "Not as bizarre as
the kind of fraternizing you've been doing with Cylons, Apollo."
"I stand properly chastised," his friend lowered his head and sighed.
"Anyway," Starbuck resumed, "Cy was getting the impression that he
could never be a perfect substitute for human companionship. And all of
a sudden, before I know it, he goes up and leaves for a whole night, and
when he comes back, you can imagine my shock when he was carrying in his
arms a pregnant woman."
"A what?" Apollo leaned forward, "How in the--"
"Stumped the pogees out of me," Starbuck admitted, "I never knew what
the frack she was until I got here. Her name was Angela and it turned
out she was one of the people from this ship. Her presence on the planet
was tied in to putting me through some incredible kind of test that would
determine whether or not I was worthy of becoming a guardian myself."
"Obviously you passed."
"I did, even though I didn't know what it was all about at the time.
She was talking in vague generalities so much that I thought she was
totally wacko for awhile."
"These people seem to excel in never coming to the point," Apollo
snorted as he recalled how John had acted toward him during the Terran
incident.
"There's a reason for that, Apollo," once again, Starbuck's tone
became dead serious, "A darned good reason. Being too specific means
running the risk of violating the one principle we hold dear above all
others. The independence of human free will, and the ability of the
individual to make a choice. If she'd told me everything about the whole
test, then naturally I would have had the fear of God drummed in to me to
do what was right. But in the process they wouldn't have received a fair
judgment of my character. Anyone can make a foxhole conversion and
obediently follow orders when things are presented with too much clarity.
Frack, even Baltar would probably do things right if it were presented
directly to him. But only the person who has the sense to do what's
right, without knowing all the details is the one who can truly be judged
by these people as good."
"And worthy of joining this elite group," there was the faintest trace
of sarcastic irony in Apollo's voice, "Obviously not applicable to me, I
suppose."
Starbuck didn't respond to that point, "I had two tests presented to
me. The first involved Cy. I really got attached to that piece of
machinery during all that time. When a Cylon fighter landed a couple
sectans later, he started heading out to meet them, and the instinctive
thing I should have done was shoot him dead, and keep him from telling
his chums about me and where I was. But as he headed out the door of our
shelter, I found that I couldn't do it. I honestly had come to love that
piece of junk for the help and companionship he'd given to me, even if
his blasted programming about humans and Cylons as perpetual enemies kept
sounding off periodically. For the first time in my whole career as a
warrior, I couldn't bring myself to kill a Cylon. Not when it was Cy."
Apollo put a hand to his chin and seemed fascinated by the account.
"And it turned out, my faith was rewarded. When Cy approached the
three centurions, he opened fire on them. He killed them all, but not
before a shot from the last one of them got him as well. And....well you
couldn't believe the reaction I felt. He literally died in my arms, and
actually called me friend." he stopped and gazed down at the ground with
a trace of sadness, "If ever there was a micron in my life when I wished
that a robot could have a soul, that was it."
"So that's why they made you an angel."
"That was only one of the tests," Starbuck straightened up and went
on, "The other took place just before Cy confronted the centurions. It
involved Angela's child."
"Suppose you tell me how it's possible for an angel to give birth,"
Apollo brashly inquired.
"Do me a favor Apollo," his friend's expression grew slightly stern,
"Don't ever ask that question again. That's something that can't be
known to any mortal."
"You're the boss," Apollo was finding it impossible not to be slightly
flip in his demeanor. The way he saw it, he had absolutely nothing to
lose, and it almost seemed like a kind of safety valve for him.
"And don't you forget it," the old Starbuck smirk returned, "Anyway,
during all that time when I wasn't trying to get Cy to like me, I'd been
cannabilizing some parts from my escape pod and the wrecked Cylon fighter
to see if I could possibly build a one-man craft that would represent my
only hope of getting back to the Galactica. But as it turned out, I got
confronted with another test from Angela. Sacrificing myself to save her
baby. A boy as it turned out. She kept saying something about him being
our 'spiritual child.' Finally, for the same lack of thought for myself
that caused me to not shoot Cy, I gave up my one chance to get home again
and see Cassiopeia, and the Commander and everyone else I loved. I put
Angela and the baby inside the pod and launched it on the course heading
for Earth that I knew the Galactica would be resuming."
Starbuck paused and looked off in the other direction, away from
Apollo. "I found out later, that after the pod was launched, Angela's
presence left it and returned to this ship to tell the higher Powers That
Be, that I had passed both the tests and was deemed good and worthy.
That meant that I had been chosen....to become one of them. About a
sectan later, I just went to bed one night in that freezing shelter of
mine, half-dead from starvation and exhaustion, and when I woke up, I was
here."
Apollo found Starbuck's account to be the most incredibly fascinating
story he had ever heard in his life. Never in a million yahrens would he
have envisioned such a fate for his friend.
But then again, could Starbuck or anyone else have ever envisioned in
a million yahrens his fate?
For some reason, the whole thing was beginning to strike him as
tragically unfair.
"It's remarkable, Starbuck," Apollo said, "Kind of remarkable that you
and I both crashed on desolate rocks, yet we ended up getting a vastly
different set of tests presented to us that led to polar opposite fates
for us."
Right away, Starbuck sensed the bitter edge in Apollo's voice,
"Apollo, there was no favoritism at work. The only reason why they
wanted me in the first place was because of you."
"Because of me?" Apollo lifted an eyebrow in amazement.
"Someone had to keep an eye on you," his voice grew pointed, "Someone
who knew you and understood you, and could really peer into the depths of
your soul like no one else could. And the way they figured it, your best
friend was the only one capable of doing that. But because they weren't
sure if I'd sufficiently grown in character over the yahrens, that's why
they arranged for everything to happen with Cy, and then Angela and her
child. They had to know if I was worthy of being the one who could," he
took a breath and paused for effect, "The one who could ultimately tell
you one day when your exile would finally come to an end."
The brash facade Apollo had been putting up suddenly vanished. His
eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly open.
"You heard me right, buddy," a soothing edge entered Starbuck's voice,
"After sixteen yahrens, your exile is over. If all goes well, you'll
soon be going home."
Troy had almost found it incredible that he'd been able to sleep after
the sense of restlessness he'd felt following his brief meeting with
Sheba. No matter how much his mind tried to rationalize the need for
caution, the rest of him was feeling unbearable tension and anxiety over
when the truth about his father would finally be known.
"Good morning, Troy," Dr. Mortinson smiled as he and the Galactica
warrior converged in the hallway that led down to the living room. The
nuclear scientist had already showered and dressed in a crisply
immaculate blue suit.
"Good morning, Doctor," Troy managed to smile weakly as he rubbed the
last of the sleep from his eyes, "You look as though you've got really
important business at the Institute today."
"As a matter of fact, I have to make a presentation at lunch to
explain to a group of my peers, how I was able to reach such a major
breakthroughs in nuclear fusion earlier this year."
"Don't tell them the truth," Troy chuckled as he held up a finger.
"You're the only person I know who believes in making plagiarism a
noble deed," Mortinson chuckled, "But naturally, I have no choice about
it."
"Naturally," Troy matched it, "I hope it doesn't frustrate you too
much."
"Not after I've gotten a trip to the moon for my troubles," the
nuclear scientist was grinning now, "Of course, the next time I ever meet
Gene Cernan, who's always introduced on TV as the last man to walk on the
moon, I'm probably going to have a silly grin on my face throughout the
entire conversation."
As soon as Mortinson finished his lighthearted remark, they reached
the living room area and saw Cassiopeia downing what seemed like a second
cup of coffee.
"Good morning, Dr. Casssiopeia," Mortinson frowned slightly as he came
up to her.
She seemed slightly startled and quickly rubbed her eyes which
appeared red from lack of sleep, "Oh good morning, Doctor, Troy. I think
I lost track of what time it is."
"Eight AM," Mortinson then noticed the empty wine bottle by the sofa
and frowned, "What were you doing last night?"
"I'm sorry," there was the faintest trace of a slur in her voice, "I'm
sorry, I was up all night having a long talk with Sheba."
"With Sheba?" Troy bolted toward her, "You mean she's talking mormally
now?"
"Yes....we had a long talk about things. The trianol's really kicked
in and as long she continues to take it, I think she's going to be fine."
"I'm sure her father will be relieved to hear that," Mortinson said,
"If it's true that she's well enough to converse, then do you think she
can move about on her own pretty soon?"
Cassiopeia pushed back a lock of her silver-tinged blonde hair and
again shook her head in order to rid herself of the effects of the wine
she had consumed over the course of the night, "Yes, Doctor, I think
that's very possible."
"Good," Mortinson set the empty bottle down and looked as if he was
going to press her about that, but then decided against it, "Because I
was thinking that if Sheba ever recovered to the point where Dr. Jackson
doesn't have to make regular visits any longer, it might be a good idea
to get her out of Los Angeles for awhile."
"I don't think she's ready to go back to the Galactica, Doctor."
"I wasn't thinking of that," the scientist said, "I have a summer
house up the coast in Carmel, a little seaside town about a hundred miles
south of San Francisco and three hundred miles north of here. It's
really a nice, peaceful place by the seashore, and if she's up to getting
out of bed now, it would be a much better place for her."
"That might not be a bad idea," Cassiopeia slowly nodded and tightened
the sash of her bathrobe, "I'll bet you must be getting tired of the four
of us as your houseguests for these last few weeks. We owe you a
respite."
"Hey, none of you have been an imposition to me," Mortinson said
reassuringly, "I'm just glad I was able to accomodate all of you. As
Troy can attest, I owe him plenty after what he and Dillon have assisted
me with these last four years. Putting you up in my house was the least
I could do," he picked up his attache case and headed for the front door,
"I have to go now. We can talk about the arrangements for getting all of
you up to Carmel this evening."
As soon as the nuclear scientist departed, Cassiopeia shook her head
in amazement, "He's a remarkable man. Both him and Dr. Jackson."
"Agreed," Troy nodded and eyed the Chief Medical Officer with a faint
hint of suspicion, "If there were more people on Earth like him, we
probably wouldn't have to stay in hiding."
Cassiopeia stretched herself and brought her empty coffee cup back to
the kitchen, "It's always struck me as funny that a single man like him
would live alone in such a big, expensive house like this."
"He wasn't always single," Troy said as he followed her in to the
kitchen. Instead of putting the cup in the sink, Cassiopeia was pouring
more coffee into it, "Dr. Mortinson's wife died ten years ago in a car
accident. He only keeps living here out of sentiment."
"That's awful," she looked up and sipped the coffee. After several
weeks, she had already acquired a taste for the hot beverage, always
taking it straight and black.
"Yeah, it's not a subject he likes to talk much about, but I guess a
lot of people are like that," Troy looked her in the eye.
Cassiopeia abruptly tuned away from him and headed back into the
living room.
"Cassiopeia," Troy called after as he followed her in, "What did she
say last night?"
The Chief Medical Officer turned around and looked at him defiantly,
"Absolutely nothing about your father, Troy. She's suffering a partial
memory-loss brought on by the trianol. All we did was talk about some
general things that have happened in the last sixteen yahrens so I can
start getting her to readjust to the real universe."
"Don't give me any felgercarb, Cassiopeia," Troy angrily grabbed her
arm, "You expect me to believe that you drank a whole bottle of
Chardonnay just because you were talking about 'general things'? Come
on! And when I spoke to her last night, she all but implied that she
still knew exactly what happened to him."
"Listen Boxey," she lowered her voice to an angry whisper, "If you
really care a daggit's felgercarb about Sheba, then you'll let this thing
drop for now. If she has anything to say, then it has to be done on her
terms and no one else's."
"Then she did tell you!" Troy was too angry to care over the insult of
his childhood name being hurled at him.
"I'm not going to answer that," she held her ground, "You're free to
talk to her once she wakes up, but by all the Lords of Kobol, Troy, don't
bring the subject up with her!"
"What's going on?" there was a stir from the other end as Cain emerged
from the hallway. For the first in many days, there was something of the
old spring in his walk.
The sight of the Juggernaut as Troy remembered him during the Xavier
incident aboard the Pegasus, when Cain had succeeded in standing him down
completely, had a chastening effect on Troy. He awkwardly straightened
himself as though he'd been caught during a surprise inspection, "Nothing
sir. Nothing at all. As a matter of fact, I think I'd better be going
out to meet with Jamie and Dillon for breakfast at her office."
Cassiopeia frowned slightly. It was supposed to be a luncheon date,
not a breakfast one. But then she realized that Cain's presence probably
made him anxious to get out of the house right away.
As soon as Troy had dressed and made a hasty exit from the house, he
began to feel an intense sensation of guilt going through him.
As noon came, both Dillon and Jamie found themelves waiting in the
cafe restaurant located in the UBC building's lobby atrium.
"He's late," Dillon noted as he consulted the Timex that Jamie had
given him as a present, "We said quarter-of-twelve."
"You think that whole business with Sheba last night made him forget?"
his girlfriend cautiously inquired.
"Could be," he said, "Could be."
Before Jamie could comment on that, they saw Troy enter at the far end
of the room. They signalled to him, and he made his way over.
"Sorry," Troy said slightly out-of-breath, "I lost track of time. I
was at the County Library doing some reading."
"The Library?" Dillon lifted an eyebrow, "What for?"
"Because if I stayed in the same house with Cain for another ten
microns, he'd have been ready to tear my fracking head off. And he would
have had every right to."
"What are you talking about?" Jamie frowned.
He briefly recounted the details of his earlier conversation with
Cassiopeia, pausing only when the waiter came up to take their orders.
As soon as they were alone again, he took a deep sip of water and
resumed. Right away, Jamie and Dillon noticed how their friend seemed to
be tense and fidgety.
"I know it's wrong to feel this way," Troy was looking at the floor,
"Damn it all, I love Sheba. She was the closest thing I ever had to
another mother. I want to see her recover just as much as Cain does.
But if it means she's going to keep her mouth shut about my father, then
I don't think I can look her in the eye. I've got to know. And I just
can't stand the thought of sitting around and waiting, knowing that one
slip-up on my part could be disastrous for her."
As the salad came, there was an awkward and uneasy silence at the
table. Jamie and Dillon only picked at theirs, while Troy's went
virtually untouched.
"Troy," his best friend decided that it was time to live up to that
distinction, "Do you trust yourself, to be around Sheba?"
Troy continued to avoid eye contact with them, "No. I feel so
terrible admitting that, but I don't. God, it's so selfish for me not to
think of her well-being first, but that's just the way I feel."
"Then I don't think you should stay there any longer," Dillon said
firmly, "As a matter of fact, I think maybe you should go back to the
Galactica for awhile. Bury yourself in some jobs that will help the
Fleet. Anything to take your mind off the whole thing while Sheba gets
the chance to recover at her own pace."
"I think Dillon's right," Jamie jumped in, "And this way, you can also
bring Adama up-to-date on what's been happening."
"Leave tonight, Troy," Dillon put a hand on his friend's shoulder,
"Cassiopeia, Cain and I won't be needing the shuttle for awhile, so you
can take it yourself and fly solo back to the Fleet."
Troy looked up at them for a moment, and then abruptly rose from his
chair and threw down his napkin.
"I've got a better idea," he said, "I'll leave now."
And before either of his friends could stop him, he was gone.
Chapter Eleven
"Can I get you anything, baby?"
Sheba slowly turned her head away from the breathtaking vista of the
Pacific Ocean slamming against the rocks beneath them. Ever since the
arrival at Dr. Mortinson's summer house outside Carmel earlier in the
day, she had found herself drawn to the deck chair on the terrace, where
the view was unobstructed.
"No," she smiled weakly at her father, "I'm okay, Daddy."
"You sure?" Cain settled into the chair next to hers, "I know that
trip up from Los Angeles must have been exhausting. Two centars in one
of those slow shuttles up to that other city, San Francisco, and then a
long ride down here on the ground."
"I got used to it," Sheba settled back in her chair and inhaled the
fragrant aroma of the sea breeze, "This part of...what do they call this
territory?"
"California," Cain said, "I know it's confusing to keep track. There
are fifty territories, or states, in this one country alone."
"It is confusing," she nodded, "Anyway, I just couldn't help but
think, sitting here, how much this view reminds me of the Caprican
western seashore."
Her father looked out to sea for a long moment as he contemplated his
daughter's remark. To the left, looking south, a light fog was rolling
in along the cliffside that lined the coast, and far off in the distance,
the shining light of the Big Sur Lighthouse periodically managed to
pierce through. To the right, and looking north, the charming town of
Carmel with its old-style houses and shops was visible, while the
picturesque greens of the Pebble Beach Golf Course lining the coast
completed the picture. It offered a vastly more pleasant contrast from
the heat and congestion they'd left behind in Los Angeles.
And as Cain continued to take in the sight, he had to admit that Sheba
was right. It did remind him of the quaint resort area on the other side
of Caprica's main continent that used to be a favorite spot of many
Capricans during the height of the warm season. A twinge of guilt went
through him as he recalled how he and Bethany had once planned on
spending an extended furlong there just three yahrens before her death.
But as it always seemed to be the case throughout his career, a military
crisis had come up, causing the plans to be cancelled.
"You're right," he said, "I didn't know you were familiar with that
part of Caprica."
"I wasn't," his daughter let out a somewhat forlorn sigh, "Apollo once
showed me a holopicture of where he used to live. Adama's house was on
the western shore with a cliffside view just like this."
The Juggernaut looked at her and debated for a long moment over
whether he should say something. He finally decided that after three
days of moving about, he could gently probe the subject.
"Baby," he squeezed her hand, "Do you feel like talking about
something other than the view?"
"No," she shook her head and kept looking out to sea, "There's nothing
to talk about."
Cain paused for a moment and decided to try another tact, "It struck
me as kind of amusing when Adama told me about you and Apollo coming
together. As I remember, you and he didn't get off on the right foot
when you first met."
"No," for the first time, Sheba smiled in a way that didn't seem weak,
"We didn't. We were both proud, stubborn people who didn't want to give
an inch when it came to protecting the reputations of our respective
fathers, and given what happened with you and Adama over the Gomorrah
thing, it shouldn't have been surprising that we were ready to tear each
other's throats out."
"So what brought you together?" he asked with interest.
"I think it started with mutual loneliness," she kept looking ahead,
"Apollo had lost his wife a few sectars earlier. You probably knew who
she was. Serina."
"Serina?" Cain frowned slightly and then rubbed his chin as he tried
to remember, "The only Serina I remember was a reporter for the Caprican
BNC."
"That's the one," Sheba nodded.
"It was?" Cain's eyes widened, "You mean Troy is her son?"
"That's right."
No wonder Troy was so impulsive about wanting to get to all the facts
so fast, Cain mused silently to himself. He'd been interviewed once by
Serina, many yahrens ago, and she'd been more annoyingly inquisitive than
any other member of the press he'd dealt with.
"Anyway, with Apollo lonely after losing Serina, and me in a lonely
funk after losing you, we started finding out that we had a lot more in
common than we first realized. It took a yahren, but we ended up falling
in love. If things hadn't been so complicated with staying one step
ahead of the Cylons, and with a whole lot of other things, we might have
gotten sealed sooner, but we just never got around to it. And when we
finally planned it...." her voice cracked slightly and she trailed off,
stopping to wipe the corners of her eyes.
Cain hesitated before saying anything else. He wasn't sure if he
should probe any further, but decided to test the limit of how far he was
willing to go.
"Baby," he squeezed her hand again, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Sheba took a deep breath and when she exhaled, it seemed to cause the
sadness to dissipate slightly from her face, "No. I'm sorry Daddy, but
there's nothing more I want to say about it, ever. I'll be honest and
admit that I'm not suffering from a memory loss about it, but it's
something I just don't want to tell you about."
"You're not afraid of me, are you?" he gently asked, "Because if
you're worried about whether I'd be ashamed of you or something like
that, I can tell you right away that you don't have to let that bother
you. I only care about seeing you in good health, not whether you made
any kind of mistake in judgment as a warrior, sixteen yahrens ago.
Frack, I've finally learned that I've made plenty of those kinds of
mistakes myself."
"You couldn't understand," she sighed as she resumed looking out to
sea, "You couldn't begin to understand."
At that moment, the glass door to the house slid open and Cassiopeia
came out on the deck.
"Sheba, it's time."
"More trianol," she sighed, "The key to keeping my sanity."
Cain leaned down and kissed his daughter on the cheek. "You'll be
okay, baby," he said as he got up, "You'll be okay. The worst is over."
As soon as the Juggernaut had disappeared inside the house, Cassiopeia
sat in the chair he'd vacated and prepared to administer the trianol shot
to Sheba.
"Do you think maybe it's time you told him, Sheba?" she asked as she
rolled up her sleeve.
"I don't want anyone else to know," Sheba said firmly, "Telling it to
one person was enough for me."
Cassiopeia calmly stuck the needle into her arm. Sheba didn't even
bat an eyelash.
"Then can I give you some practical advice?" the Chief Medical Officer
said as she removed the syringe and placed it in her bag, "Don't talk
about Apollo so much when you're with others. It will only make everyone
too inquisitive."
"It's hard for me not to think of him," her voice grew flat, "And all
the time, I keep thinking that wherever he is now, he must hate me more
than any one else in the universe. Even more than Iblis."
Cassiopeia's eyes widened in disbelief, "Sheba, you can't mean that."
"I do," her gaze remained concentrated on the breakers slamming
against the rocks beneath then, "I made him a traitor. I took him away
from his son, his father, his friends, and from everything else he
cherished. If it weren't for me, it never would have happened."
"He did it to save you," Cassiopeia said firmly, "To save you, Sheba."
"I wasn't worth the price I made him pay," Sheba refused to look at
her, "He'd have been better off letting Iblis have me."
"Sheba----"
"Just don't try to make me feel better about it, Cassiopeia," she cut
her off, "I said I was willing to move on with the rest of my miserable
life and not shut myself up like a Canceran clam anymore. I didn't say I
had to feel better about it, because I don't, and I can't."
Cassiopeia paused and then drew herself up, "Okay," she looked down at
her, "Okay Sheba, you know that the secret is safe with me. But just
answer me this. What's your idea of 'moving on with your miserable
life'?"
"I wish I knew the answer to that, Cassiopeia," Sheba still didn't
look at her, "I wish I knew why Fate decided to play another trick on me
by letting me get better again."
The Chief Medical Officer sadly shook her head and went back into the
house.
"My exile is over?" Apollo tried to adjust to what Starbuck had just
said, "What do you mean?"
"What do you think I mean?" there was nothing but gentleness and
seriousness in his friend's voice, "I mean, exactly what you've wished
for since the day Iblis forced you into becoming a traitor."
"But....I thought that doctrine about non-interference...."
"Does not apply here," Starbuck cut in, "Sure, you freely gave
yourself to what Iblis commanded of you, and we couldn't do anything
about it then. But Iblis never said anything about the commitment being
permanent for all eternity. And that caveat you threw in about
protecting your soul from him was the guarantee that someday, we could do
something about it."
"Why now?" Apollo demanded quietly, "After all these yahrens, why now,
and not sooner?"
"Because we had to wait for things beyond even our control to happen,
Apollo."
"You've lost me."
Starbuck sighed and leaned back in his chair, "Apollo, that requires
another long explanation, but it's the key to the whole thing about
what's been at work with everything that's happened to you, me and the
Galactica and everything else. I'm talking about the one force that is
ultimately in control of all the currents of history that are unfolding
throughout the entire universe."
"God?" Apollo asked cautiously.
"Yes, I mean the One the Book of the Word refers to as God the
Creator," Starbuck said, "Even we have never known the privilege of
seeing His face, because there is so much about Him that even His
guardians can never comprehend. But what we do comprehend about Him, is
that whatever happens in the universe, no matter how bad and senseless it
might seem to us at the time, is only allowed to happen because God means
for some element of good to ultimately come from it."
Apollo looked at his friend for a long moment and then slowly shook
his head.
"I'm sorry, Starbuck," he said with bitterness, "But too much has
happened for me to believe that anymore. What good has come out of any
of the things that's happened to me in the last sixteen yahrens? I won't
bother asking what good came out of the Holocaust, or losing Mother and
Zac, and then Serina. Just tell me what Divine force has been at work
while I spent the last sixteen yahrens selling out the human race?"
Starbuck looked at him with an aura of sadness, "Apollo, I'm going to
overlook your bad attitude about the whole thing, because it's not like
you to be this selfish. But I'll answer you as best as I can. Starting
with the day you defected. Now think back to what happened when you
first presented yourself to Baltar. What was the first thing he did?"
"He didn't believe me at first."
"And what else?" a pointed edge entered Starbuck's voice, "What else
did he do?"
Apollo absently looked at the floor, "He broke off the attack."
"Exactly," Starbuck zeroed in, "He was afraid that your sudden
appearance was designed to suck the task force into a gigantic trap, so
he broke off an attack that he was on the verge of winning. And I know,
because I was there trying my best to do your job of squadron leader. A
lot of good people were being shot dead out of the stars that day, and
the Galactica and the entire Fleet was virtually doomed. The only thing
that saved the Fleet, and humanity that day was your causing Baltar to
break off the attack and pull back."
His friend struggled to look at Starbuck.
"And giving the heading the Fleet was staying on for the journey to
Earth?" he went on, "Treasonous on the surface, yes. But convincing the
Imperious Leader of the need to let the Galactica lead the Cylons to
Earth before launching a final assault on humanity meant giving the Fleet
some precious time to be safe for the short-term. There was no way they
could successfully elude the Cylons throughout the journey to Earth, so
in order for them to be safe, someone had to convince the Cylon hierarchy
about the need for caution. Since Baltar's never believed in the
existence of Earth, he obviously wasn't going to fill that roll."
The brash, bitter facade Apollo had been putting on for most of his
conversation with Starbuck seemed to slightly soften.
"Now we come to the attack that an impatient Baltar launched one
yahren later, which led to my crashing on the planet and ultimately
getting here," Starbuck went on, "That was his idea of trying to regain
the upper hand in a power struggle he was fast losing with you. You
could have talked him out of it, and used your clout with the Imperious
Leader to stop it, but you decided that this was one moment when you had
to act like a committed Cylon and hope for the best. As it turned out,
the attack was beaten back, which led to Baltar being stripped of command
of the task force,and getting banished to Gomorrah, while you took over
the operation. Another important step forward to insure more long-term
security for the Fleet, while simultaneously, I was allowed to fulfill my
own destiny that had been determined for me as your Guardian Angel."
The force of Starbuck's words seemed to leave Apollo too impotent to
respond.
"In the fifteen yahrens since, you've managed to single-handedly keep
the Cylons off the backs of the Fleet," he went on, "No Cylon commander
could have been crafty enough to convince the Imperious Leader of Earth's
existence and the need for patience than Commander Adama's son."
"There was one time when I wasn't patient," Apollo said glumly, "The
last major attack ten yahrens ago. That was all my doing."
"To quell some suspicions Baltar was trying to plant in the Imperious
Leader's head," Starbuck noted, "You felt you had to show that you were
capable of launching any kind of attack, and so you threw the largest
assault at them in five yahrens. But you held back just enough of your
own reserve force to insure that the Fleet would only be bloodied at
worse, and not destroyed."
"How many lives did I kill when I ordered that assault, just to
protect my position with the Imperious Leader?" Apollo felt a large
measure of shame, "How many people died because of that?"
"A lot," Starbuck didn't mince words, "A lot of people died in that
attack, Apollo. Including Athena."
There was a stunned look on Apollo's face, as he slowly rose from his
chair.
"I killed my sister?" he barely forced his words, "You're trying to
tell me that some ultimate good was in the offering when I gave an order
that killed my sister?"
"You didn't kill her, Apollo," Starbuck responded, "She killed
herself."
"Explain."
His friend seemed to take a breath, "Apollo, in spite of what I
developed with Cassiopeia, a part of me always loved and cared about
Athena, even though that love had gone sour a long time ago. But Athena
had her own personal demons inside her that she was never able to come to
terms with, and that included recognizing her own responsibility for why
we broke-up. She carried a guilt complex about that inside her for her
entire life, and never found the strength or courage to share her
problems with those who could give her some help, like you or the
Commander. And it was because she'd never conquered those demons that
she did something very foolish when that attack took place. Instead of
staying at her post on the Bridge and doing the work she was best trained
for, she went off and volunteered for flight duty when she hadn't flown a
viper in combat for twenty yahrens. She never had a chance. But if
she'd stayed on the Bridge, and if she had chosen a wiser path, she would
still be alive today. You can't blame yourself directly for her death."
Apollo sat down in his chair again and didn't say anything. Starbuck
decided to remain silent for several minutes, since he knew that his
friend was quietly grieving inside for the sister he had loved dearly,
but had in many ways, never been able to enjoy real openness with.
When Apollo finally spoke, he seemed to be admitting the obvious about
Athena, as he changed the subject, "What about everyone else?" he asked,
"Can you come up with individual explanations for each warrior and
civilian killed as a result of that attack?"
"I could, but I won't," Starbuck mildly retorted, "What you should be
thinking about instead are the lives that were not lost because of you.
Like I said, you were the only one who could exercise a moderating
influence on the Cylon hierarchy. But in order to hold on to your
position, where you could allay any suspicions about you, you had to show
some teeth and act like a genuine Cylon commander on one occasion. And
launching that attack, tragic as it was for many people, did just that,
and has been enough to keep the Imperious Leader off your back for the
last ten yahrens and maintain the policy of caution. You have to face
the fact Apollo, that without you, the Cylons would have found the
Galactica even without your giving them the coordinates of the Earth
heading, and blasted everyone in the Fleet into infinity.
"But I shouldn't be telling you this," a hard edge entered Starbuck's
voice, "Because you already know what I'm saying is true. I've been
looking in to the depths of your soul for the last fifteen yahrens,
Apollo, and I know that your whole life and reason for going on, and not
taking the coward's way out of suicide, has been because you wanted to do
what you could to help the Fleet survive. And you've done that. Admit
it."
Apollo closed his eyes and nodded. "It's a policy that can't work much
longer," he said, "I mean, I know they've discovered Earth. I realized
that the micron the monitoring indicated that they'd gone off the
original heading and started to travel in a circular arc throughout
various star systems. Sooner or later, one of the smarter IL's like
Lucifer will reach the same conclusion. And letting the Pegasus through
the front lines isn't something that's going to stick for the long-term
either."
"Which is why I said your exile is ending now, Apollo," Starbuck said,
"Events have reached a nexus where you can't help the Fleet as a Cylon
commander any longer. That's why it's now possible for us to intervene
and set things in motion."
"Then I'm really going home?" for the first time, an aura of guarded
optimism came over Apollo's bearded visage.
"If all goes well," Starbuck emphasized, "If all goes well."
"What do you mean?" the aura faded from his eyes.
"Apollo, if it were up to me, I'd snap my fingers and you'd wake-up
aboard the Galactica. But that's something I just can't do, nor can
anyone else. Not the least of which, is the fact that a sudden
disappearance like that will cause our mutual acquaintance Lucifer to
launch the very assault you've been able to keep from happening."
His shoulders seemed to sag, "There are more tasks for me to perform
then?"
"Yes," Starbuck admitted, "But unlike the reticence John displayed to
you at Terra, and Angela gave me in my experience, I can be more direct
with you. You were judged to be good a long time ago, Apollo. That's
why you're entitled to the extra help in what you need to do."
Apollo took a step toward him and seemed to plead, "Tell me, Starbuck.
Tell me everything I have to know."
"I will," his friend smiled and extended his hand, "Take my hand and
we can get started."
Without any hesitation, Apollo reached out to touch his long-dead
friend. Around them, the brightness of the room within the Ship of
Lights slowly faded and disappeared, as Apollo felt the sensation of
being transported far across the vast dimensions of time and space.
Chapter Twelve
The triad court of the Rising Star was packed with excited spectators
in the galleries, cheering on the intense struggle taking place beneath
them. The blue team of Troy and Sergeant Ryan against the gold team of
Lieutenant Marcus and Lieutenant Kip.
It had been many sectars since Troy last competed on the triad court,
and many spectators had come to the match, certain that the man regarded
as the best triad player in the Fleet would show signs of rustiness in
his first time back. That was not proving to be the case though. To the
surprise of everyone, Troy seemed to play with more fiery intensity than
anyone could ever remember, least of all his teammate and his two
opponents. Throughout the game, their was an angry scowl on his face
that no one who had seen Troy play before could ever recall seeing.
Once Troy hurled the winning shot that finalized the 15-4 drubbing of
the gold team, he pumped his fist high into the air, and let out an
almost animal-like shout of triumph. The intensity of his angry scowl
only increasing.
"Boy thanks a lot," an amazed Ryan patted him on the back as they
headed off the court to the thunderous cheers of the spectators, "That's
the most fun I've ever had on the court."
"I'll bet," Troy's unsmiling visage didn't change as he brushed Ryan's
hand off and began to walk at a faster clip toward the turbo-wash.
Leaving his teammate to frown in disbelief at why Troy had acted so
coldly and rudely.
"You seemed to be channeling a lot of energy out there on the court,"
Adama noted as he and Troy rode aboard the Commander's personal shuttle
back to the Galactica.
His grandson shrugged, "Probably. I haven't got much else to do right
now."
The Commander moved closer to him, "Troy, ever since you came back the
other day and told me what's been happening down there with Sheba, you've
acted as though you're carrying some kind of terrible load on your back."
"You mean it doesn't bother you to know that Sheba obviously knows
what happened to my father and your son, and isn't going to talk?" there
was an incredulous edge in Troy's voice.
Adama let out a sigh, "After what I put Sheba through for sixteen
yahrens with that whole cover-up business, I don't think I'm entitled to
any selfish concern over that, especially since it was a fear of learning
the truth that made me put her in that position."
"It wasn't your fault," Troy said, "I told you, there was nothing we
could do for her then. We don't have the facilities for making trianol."
"Not on our own," Adama shook his head and looked ahead, "But someone
was here who could have ended her suffering a long time ago."
Troy hesitated before responding, "You mean Dr. Zee?"
"Yes," the commander nodded, "If I hadn't been so damned afraid of
learning the truth, I would have told him about Sheba, and that brilliant
mind of his would have come up with a solution for dealing with her
problem. That's one thing I can never have the guts to tell Cain about,
because it would only confirm his worst suspicion about how I handled her
situation. And that's the last impression I want to leave on him."
Another thought popped into Troy's head. One that made him feel even
more uncomfortable than before.
Before he could voice it though, the communicator sounded and microns
later, the shuttle pilot called back, "Commander, it's Colonel Skyler
aboard the Pegasus. He says it's important."
Adama got up from his seat and made his way forward to the cockpit
console where he flicked a switch that would let everyone aboard the
shuttle hear what was said, "Yes, Colonel?"
"Commander, there's a problem that's come up aboard the Pegasus," the
acting commander of the battlestar said, "One of our reactor engines is
leaking radiation into several compartments."
"Is it serious?"
"Well the leak itself is correctable, but we've got trouble dealing
with some of the contaminated areas. They're restricted zones that
require handprint identification for access, and something's fouled up in
the computer terminals there, because the only person the computer will
accept clearance for is Commander Cain."
It took Adama a moment to digest Skyler's words, "Can you override?"
"Negative. We've tried, but it's no good. We're not in any real
danger, but the longer that radiation in those areas sits there without
proper decontamination, the less chance we have of ever using that part
of the ship again."
"I think I get the picture, Colonel Skyler," Adama said, "You need
Commander Cain back in order to get the problem fixed."
"That's the only solution I can think of. Is it possible to get word
to him on Earth, so he can get back here?"
"It is," Adama admitted, "I'll get on it right away, as soon as I'm
aboard the Galactica. In the meantime, put all efforts into stopping the
leak at the source, and then start flushing the ventilation areas it got
into."
"Yes sir, thank you," Skyler sounded slightly relieved as the
transmission ended.
As Adama walked back to his seat, there was a bemused expression on
his grandson's face.
"So Cain's coming back?" he said, "I wonder if he'll be bringing any
news?"
"If he is, that won't be the first priority," the Commander grew
uncharacteristically blunt, "When he comes back, I want you to stay away
from him, Troy. That's an order. If he has something to tell us, he'll
come to us."
Troy slouched back in his chair and reluctantly nodded, "Yes sir."
As the shuttle neared the Galactica, the thought Troy had been unable
to voice aloud was going through his mind.
What if Sheba was afraid of the reaction she'd get from him and Adama
if the truth came out?
What if....?
Hating himself again for his thoughts, he shook his head and tried to
push them from his troubled mind.
But he had the feeling he wasn't going to succeed in doing that.
At Cassiopeia's urging, Cain and Dillon had left the summer house and
travelled ten miles up the coastline to look at the sights of Carmel.
They had spent much of the afternoon walking along the beach, and then
decided to climb up the short hill where the 18th hole of Pebble Beach
golf course overlooked the ocean.
"Shooting a little ball four hundred metrones to reach a tiny little
hole," Cain shook his head in amazement as he watched the three men
playing, "And I thought basketball was too dull."
Dillon laughed as he led Cain back down the hill to the beach,
"Commander, I tried to explain, golf is a game designed chiefly for
playing, not watching. For friends getting together and engaging in a
little therapy relief from work."
"You ever tried it?" the Juggernaut hesitated as he negotiated some
of the twists along the hillside.
"Once," Dillon admitted, "Takes yahrens to master though."
Cain knelt down and picked up an object that on closer examination was
a red golf ball, "Looks as though someone's aim was off."
"If I were playing this course, my shot would end up way out there,
sir," Dillon motioned out to sea.
Cain absently pocketed the ball and looked out at the peaceful scene
of the sunset hanging over the Pacific Ocean.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," the Juggernaut sighed, "I keep judging this
planet too much by Caprican standards. I suppose by fifth millennia
standards this is as good as the planet could have hoped for."
"I think so," Dillon nodded, "I had trouble fitting in at first, but
over the last few sectars I've had a change of heart."
"You and that Jamie Hamilton woman?" Cain asked cautiously.
A sheepish look came over Dillon, "I won't deny that she and I have a
relationship, sir. For now, we just enjoy what we have whenever duty
takes me to Earth."
"You prefer it to your normal duties aboard the Galactica?"
"It's gotten to the point where I do," the blonde lieutenant admitted,
"But my personal situation is not the determining factor. Thanks to
Troy's encouragement, I've learned to appreciate this planet's culture
and beauty, and how it's imperative to assist the scientific community so
our people can one day live here."
"I wonder if that day will ever come," Cain kept looking out to sea,
where the sun was fast dropping beneath the horizon casting a rich
crimson glow across the sky, "I really wonder. There are times when I
keep wondering if this place was really meant for our people, or if its
ever possible for them to be exposed to the story of what we've gone
through."
Just then, there was a piercing beep from an object in the hip pocket
of Dillon's khaki slacks. He hurriedly pulled it out and flicked a
switch, "Lieutenant Dillon acknowledging. Stand by for now."
"What's going on?" Cain frowned.
"The Galactica's contacting us. We have to get to a more private
location."
"I didn't know direct contact was possible," Cain said as he followed
Dillon across the beach back to where the rented car was parked.
"It's not something we use unless it's an emergency," Dillon thrust it
back in his pocket, "Radio signals can be picked up by Earth satellites
and cause all kinds of confusion. There's also the problem when one of
our vipers or shuttles gets spotted streaking through the sky and causes
a UFO scare."
"A what?"
"UFO. It means 'unidentified flying object' but there are a large
number of people who think any strange object they see in the sky means
an alien visitor from another galaxy, and they end up writing all sorts
of speculative felgercarb about the alleged cover-up Earth government's
are carrying out with regard to whether Earth has been visited before."
"Have they?" a wry smile came over Cain's face as they exited the
beach area and walked on to the residential back streets of Carmel.
Dillon almost grinned, "Not counting us? Most assuredly no. Someday
I should show you the speculations people have about intelligent life in
the universe. They make that movie 2010 seem like the work of a genius
by comparison."
After walking several blocks past the expensive houses of Carmel, they
reached the spot where the car they'd rented in San Francisco was parked.
Once they were inside, Dillon pulled out the communications device and
activated it.
"Galactica, this is Dillon. Am in secure location now."
"Dillon, this is Commander Adama," his voice came through amazingly
clear from more than a light year away in defiance of all know Earth
standards of communications, "Commander Cain is ordered to return to the
Fleet immediately and resume active command of the Pegasus."
There was a dubious frown on the Juggernaut as Dillon instantly handed
the device to him.
"Adama, I'm with Dillon right now. What's happened?"
"I've little time to explain, Cain, since security does not permit a
sustained conversation. There's no military emergency, but your presence
is needed."
"Adama, I--"
"Cain, I don't want to pull rank strongly. You have to return!" his
friend's voice rose.
The Juggernaut let out a dismal groan, "And how am I supposed to get
back since Captain Troy took the shuttle the other day?"
"Lieutenant Dillon will make the necessary arrangements. Proceed
immediately to the Pegasus once you're away from Earth. Galactica out."
Letting out another groan, Cain handed the communicator back to
Dillon, "I suppose I've got no choice. Now how in Hades do I get out of
here?"
"No problem, sir. Troy and I aren't the only ones stationed on
Earth," he flicked the switch and adjusted one of the dials. A piercing
beep filled the car for several seconds and then another hurried voice
came through.
"Captain Cree reporting."
"Cree, it's Lieutenant Dillon. Emergency situation's come-up and I'm
presently without a shuttle for transport. You've got to get yourself to
my location in order to take Commander Cain back to the Fleet."
There was a slight pause from the other end, "Give me three hours to
get to my shuttle, and I'll raise you again for location coordination."
"Affirmative. Will await your signal."
As soon as Dillon shut off the device, he promptly started up the car
and pulled it out into the main streets of the town.
"Who was that?"
"Captain Cree, our British observer. He's working in coordination
with a friend of Dr. Mortinson's at Cambridge University."
"How soon can he get here?"
"For an Earth person it would take fifteen centars. For him, once he
gets to his shuttle and has a secure location for us fixed, its only a
matter of twenty centons. If all goes well, you should be back on the
Pegasus in about twelve centars from now."
Cain slouched back in the passenger seat of the car, as though it was
the worst piece of news he could have heard at that moment. Right now,
he couldn't bear to think of leaving Sheba's side. The elation he'd felt
over her initial recovery had slowly given way to frustration over her
troubled attitude about Apollo, and he would have gladly preferred
waiting things out with her.
If in fact, it was possible for there to be any kind of end to her
troubled attitude.
For what seemed like an eternity, the blurred scene surrounding Apollo
and Starbuck refused to go away as the sense of time and place seemed to
evaporate all around them. Finally, Starbuck raised his hand and it
abruptly stopped, replaced by the peaceful sight of some green rolling
hills and trees, marred only by a slightly pitted and scarred surface in
several areas. Off in the distance, Apollo could see what looked like
twisted, rusty remains of several collapsed buildings.
"Look familiar?" Starbuck asked.
Apollo dimly shook his head, "No."
"Well, that's probably my fault for not starting at a place more
closer to home for you. Like maybe the western seashore."
Apollo froze and slowly turned around to face his one-time friend, "Do
you mean what I think you mean?"
The characteristic Starbuck smirk was there, "What do you think I
mean?"
"That this is Caprica?" Apollo's words came out rapidly, "You've
taken me home?"
"You're absolutely right," Starbuck's tone didn't change, "I'd
congratulate you with a fumarella, but I don't carry them around
anymore."
"Why did you bring me here?" Apollo had never thought it possible that
he'd ever walk the planet of his birth again, "What could I possibly do
here?"
Starbuck walked several paces ahead of his friend, looked at the
scorched buildings in the distance and let out a wistful sigh.
"This is the edge of what used to be the Thor Forest," he said, "And
back there, in those twisted remains, is what's left of where I was born.
Umbra. Caprican Civil Administration never bothered to rebuild it after
the disaster that left me orphaned. Even the Cylons have never bothered
with this place since they occupied the planet."
"Starbuck, get to the point!" Apollo impatiently raised his voice.
His friend turned back and once again adopted the all-business
posture, "Apollo, as much as the Imperious Leader has trusted you as a
genuine defector all these yahrens, there's one thing he never told you,
because he was afraid it would give you just one thread of incentive for
jumping ship again. And that's why he's kept you far out in space with
the task force, and never called you back into familiar regions of space
for any kind of briefing. He couldn't run the risk of letting you find
out what's been happening on some of the old home worlds. Not even
Baltar or anyone else stationed in your task force knows about this."
"What do you mean?" the anger faded from Apollo's voice.
Just then, the sound of a Cylon fighter flying overhead caused Apollo
to instinctively drop to the ground.
"Get up buddy," Starbuck chuckled, "No one can see us yet."
Apollo warily got back to his feet and shook his head. It was only
then that he finally remembered that his clothes had turned as white as
Starbuck's robes and left him under the Ship of Lights protection.
Frack, he thought, I'm really starting to feel my age.
"I'll get to the point," Starbuck resumed, "Think back to that time
just after the Holocaust, when I was trying to get out of duty checking
solium leaks on a Gemonese freighter. Do you remember your exact words
of reproach to me?"
"No," Apollo shook his head.
"Well, I can tell you. You said, 'Do you know how many people we had
to leave behind?'" Starbuck let his words hang, "Ever stop to think
about what was really happening to all those people we left behind in the
colonies when we began our jaunt across the stars to Earth?"
Apollo was silent for a long moment and lowered his head, "I've tried
not to think about it."
"We'll you're about to find out," Starbuck extended his hand, "Come."
As soon as Apollo took it, the landscape faded and he found himself
inside a dimly lit complex that seemed to be deep underground. The
computer equipment and everything else Apollo saw looked as though it had
been entirely assembled from spare parts and salvaged wreckage. The air
was breathable but had a slightly musty tinge to it.
What astonished Apollo were the people inside the complex. There were
at least fifty by his count inside what he gathered to be the main
Control Center and the corridors extending out from it. They were an
equal mix of men and women, young, middle-aged and old. All of them with
worn, weather-beaten and grizzled countenance. Their clothes were a
mixture of Colonial uniforms and civilian garments, all equally
threadbare and worn from what could only have been yahrens of use.
Amidst this crowd, there was only one standout. At what looked like a
makeshift computer monitor, a young boy of no more than fifteen yahrens
dressed in a clean white garment that stood out from the clothes worn by
everyone else, appeared to be in deep contemplation as the other people
went about their business.
"Who are these people?" Apollo whispered.
"The survivors and children of those who couldn't find a place out of
here to join the Fleet," Starbuck said, "The ones who've had to hide from
Cylon occupation for the last thirty yahrens."
"But how?" Apollo was thunderstruck.
"It wasn't easy," Starbuck's voice grew solemn, "About a sectan after
the Galactica and the Fleet left the colonies, the first permanent Cylon
occupation forces landed. They had a simple plan for weeding out any
pockets of resistance left on the twelve worlds. Flood the planetary
ecosystems with pluton poison and literally starve out those who didn't
emerge from hiding and beg for non-existent Cylon mercy."
"That wouldn't account for---"
"These people were lucky," Starbuck said, "You see, the Cylons didn't
want to inefficiently waste anything when it came to dispersing the
poison. So as a result, they decided they didn't have to waste time
looking for survivors in Umbra. After all, the city had been destroyed
and abandoned more than twenty yahrens before in an attack they launched,
so it struck their programming circuits as illogical that anyone would be
trying to hide here. And that typical lack of Cylon individual
initiative made it possible for this group of Capricans, some 200 odd, to
seek refuge in the sewers and underground storage facilities of Umbra as
their hiding place."
"But what have they been doing?" Apollo watched in fascination at the
sight of so many people moving about.
"The same thing the Galactica's been doing. Trying to survive. No
time for foolhardy heroics when the first priority was to gather as much
as they could from the still living plant and animal life and figure out
a way to grow crops and breed stock down here. And after thirty yahrens,
the effort has paid some important dividends."
Starbuck then pointed to a grizzled looking gray-haired man in a faded
tan warrior's uniform, "That's the head of this group of 312 now.
Commander Deval. At the time of the Holocaust, he was Lieutenant Deval
of the Battlestar Columbia's Blue Squadron. When the Columbia was
destroyed during the battle along with the rest of the Fleet, he decided
to high-tail it back to his home planet and find out what happened to his
family. He had to crash-land when he ran into fighters from the
withdrawing Cylon attack force, but he managed to survive and elude
capture.
"When Deval made his way to the remains of Umbra, and found over two
hundred hiding in fear and terror. Since he knew he didn't have a prayer
of finding his family, he decided the best thing to do was take charge of
this group of people and give them something to live for. He took them
all down here and put them to work and they haven't looked back since.
Only very rarely, does anyone venture to the surface to check out
conditions on the planet, as well as stage an occasional commando raid on
a Cylon weapons facility."
"But you said the Imperious Leader knows about resistance factions
here," Apollo pointed out.
Starbuck nodded, "This isn't the only one in the colonies, Apollo.
There are similar resistance networks on the other twelve planets.
Scattered outposts of humanity buried deep underground, all totally
cut-off from each other and unable to coordinate things for any major
counterattack. But added as a whole, the commando operations of Deval's
group, as well as those on the other twelve worlds have proven to be a
source of embarrassment to the Leader. Even though it was his
predecessor killed at Carillon that launched the Holocaust, he's always
taken pride in claiming it as his own personal triumph, and the continued
presence of these groups is an unforgivable blemish on that triumph."
"I think I can see why he doesn't even let the Cylons outside this
system know about it," light slowly dawned on Apollo,
"Because he's always feared that it could lead to his being toppled from
power by some ambitious IL like Lucifer."
"Exactly," Starbuck said, "He's determined to keep it his own dirty
little secret forever, and that's why he doesn't have the guts to
mobilize a major mobilization of forces to weed out all the colonies of
resistance factions. An overt act of destruction on planets that were
supposedly secured so long ago would lead to the very same complications
when it comes to his holding on to power."
"Okay, I think I understand," Apollo said, "But what is it I'm
supposed to do here?"
"One final thing before we get to that," Starbuck held up a finger and
then motioned across the room to the young boy in white seated at the
computer monitor. The boy's head suddenly turned and locked on to
Starbuck so that he was looking at him and Apollo right in the eye.
"Relax," Starbuck whispered to Apollo as he smiled back at the boy in
recognition, "He's the only one who can see us."
The boy got to his feet and exchanged some words with the man Starbuck
had identified as Commander Deval. The grizzled looking man nodded in
understanding, and the boy started walking toward Starbuck and Apollo.
When he reached them, he said not a word as the other two started to
follow him out into the next corridor.
Once outside in the lonely, empty hallway, the boy finally spoke in a
cultured tone, "It's good to see you again, Starbuck."
"Good to see you," Starbuck smiled, "Looks as though things have been
productive for you since you got started here."
"They have," the boy nodded and extended his hand to Apollo, "You must
be Captain Apollo. I know we've never met, but I've always felt as
though I've known you for yahrens, thanks to the stories your father
always told me."
"My father?" Apollo's eyes widened as he shook hands with some
hesitation, "How could you possibly have known anything from him?"
"Until about eight sectars ago, I was his closest advisor," the boy
said and then glanced at Starbuck, "That was until Starbuck told me that
there were other plans for me."
It finally sunk in, "You're one of them," Apollo whispered, "You're
from the Ship Of Lights too."
"More than that Apollo," Starbuck said with an edge of pride, "I want
you to meet Dr. Zee, the child I gave up my life to save, fifteen
yahrens ago."
"Okay, Dillon, I read your coordinates fine from this communications
bearing," Captain Cree's voice piped through the living room of the
Mortinson summer house, "You're not exactly located near any great spots
for a landing though. There's no desert in northern California."
"We couldn't help that, Cree," Dillon said, "I've decided we should
chance a night landing at a place that will at least be deserted. Patch
in coordinates ten miles to the north of where we are now and consult
your computer map."
After a pause, there was an incredulous tone in Cree's voice, "Dillon,
I just ran a comp scan and recoordinated with our satellite imaging.
This looks like I'm to land right on top or near the ocean at..." he
paused and let out a whistle, "We're rendezvousing on a golf course?"
"Not much choice in the matter," Dillon chuckled, "But as long as you
make it quick, it shouldn't pose a problem. Just have your invisibility
shield active before you come in. The commander and I will be waiting on
the beach beneath the 18th fairway of Pebble Beach golf course."
"The things we have to do sometimes," the incredulity in Cree's voice
didn't let up.
"Come on Cree, you've always said that after going through a Cylon
torture chamber on that ice planet thirty yahrens ago, nothing would ever
be difficult for you again."
"Touche," Cree laughed, "Okay, all set. I'll be lifting off in a half
hour from now, so you start getting out to the rendezvous point at least
fifteen minutes before that."
At the other end of the room, an anguished Cain stood alongside
Cassiopeia as they both looked out through the glass doors, where Sheba
was still sitting on the deck looking out to sea.
"I wish I didn't have to go," Cain sighed, "I feel as though I haven't
seen this thing through yet."
"Be grateful that it's better than when we came here," the Chief
Medical Officer said reassuringly, "There was no guarantee that Sheba
would ever be talking again."
"I know," Cain admitted, "I know but...even with all the trianol she's
been taking, and all of that determination not to slide back into the
state she's been in, I almost wonder if she doesn't want to let herself
get any better than she is now."
"Just give it more time, Cain," she put a hand on her one-time lover's
shoulder, "Patience is the only thing we need."
"And I know as soon as I see Troy, he isn't going to be patient with
me," the Juggernaut grimaced, "He'll want to know if she's finally talked
about Apollo."
"And you tell him the truth," Cassiopeia's words came out quickly,
"You don't know a thing."
Cain turned away from his gaze at Sheba, and gave Cassiopeia a
quizzical look, "What about you, Cassie?"
She seemed to tense, "What about me?"
"Do you know?" his words were soft but pointed.
The Chief Medical Officer finally decided she didn't feel like
compounding the lie, "Yes Cain, I do. And I won't violate the promise I
made to Sheba so don't ask me for any details."
"I figured as much," he said, "And why would she not want to tell me?"
Cassiopeia let out a sad sigh and looked away from him, and back out
to where Sheba was sitting, "I don't think it's you she's worried about.
I think she's afraid Troy and Adama will hate her if the truth ever came
out."
Cain hesitated for a moment before he decided to ask his next
question, "Would either of them have any measure of justification for
that?"
She looked back at him and her expression was suddenly more firm and
confident, "Not if either of them have a drop of genuine love for her. I
will only tell you Cain, that she's being hard on herself for something
that wasn't her fault."
"Then what would it take to convince her of that, and get her to move
on?"
"I wish I knew," Cassiopeia sighed, "Because the only solution I can
think of, can never come to be."
Right away, Cain seemed to realize what she meant and he nodded in
understanding without saying a word.
"Commander," Dillon called over, "We've got to get going."
"Just a centon, Lieutenant," Cain said as he made his way out on to
the deck, where he once again sat on the edge of his chair next to his
daughter.
"Sheba?" he whispered tenderly. He was slightly relieved when he saw
her not hesitate in turning her head away from the sight of the ocean to
look at him.
"Sheba, I've got to go for awhile. They need me back on the Pegasus."
She seemed to tense and for the first time, there was more emotion in
her than he could recall seeing since she'd started communicating again,
"A battle? The Cylons?"
"No, no," he hastily shook his head, "It's not a battle. Nothing like
that. It's purely bureaucratic. I wouldn't go if I had a choice, but
Adama's given me a direct order."
Sheba seemed to relax and actually smiled faintly in a way that was
not mirthless, "You actually listen to Adama now?"
He suddenly felt some of the tension break inside him as he laughed
and put his arms around her, "Oh baby, when you get to be my age, you
don't feel like being reckless and defiant anymore."
Their father-daughter embrace lasted for more than a minute. He
kissed her on the cheek and reluctantly let go of her.
"I'll be back as soon as I can, Sheba," Cain got to his feet, "I want
to do all I can to help you, and let you know that no matter what
happens, you'll always have me and a lot of other people who love you."
His daughter continued to smile faintly and nodded. But she said
nothing and then went back to looking out to sea, even before her father
left the deck and went back inside to join Dillon for the start of his
long journey back to the Pegasus.
Chapter Thirteen
Things were still moving too fast for Apollo as he looked
dumbfoundedly at the young boy Starbuck had just introduced to him.
"Okay Starbuck," he said, "Start giving me some of that directness you
promised me. He was my father's aide?"
"Do you mind?" Starbuck smiled at Dr. Zee, who nodded with complete
deference, "Yes he was, Apollo. Our people, that is, his people, felt
that an emissary needed to be sent to provide some critical assistance to
Adama and the Fleet during some difficult times ahead. But we'd already
reasoned that after the experience with Iblis, it would be impossible to
send an adult emissary that Adama would be willing to trust."
"So they sent a child," Apollo looked back at Dr. Zee.
"Not only that, but a child who was totally unaware of his origins,"
the boy spoke, "It made it easier for Adama and I to form a basis for
trust."
"Especially after Athena was lost and that left Adama virtually alone
in terms of who to turn to," Starbuck resumed, "As Dr. Zee came of age,
he was able to use the powers of intellect given him, to help the Fleet
develop new technological breakthroughs that will enable them to combat
any technology the Cylons come up with. And the critical moment really
came when the Galactica discovered Earth."
"When the Fleet first picked up signals of Earth origin, Adama made
immediate plans for landing the Fleet," Dr. Zee picked up the narrative,
"Even though we already had indications that Earth was at least two
millennia behind us, there still seemed no reason why the landing should
not take place."
"But didn't he know that I had the Cylon Fleet lying in wait just
outside scanner range?" Apollo frowned, "That had been my policy ever
since the last attack, but I always thought my father was smart enough to
know that our task force was stalking him all that time."
"That's what you'd hoped," Starbuck said, "And had Adama been his
normal self, he would have figured it out in a micron. But...well you
see Apollo, after Athena's death, the Commander retreated into a kind of
shell. He totally lost the will to command with the decisive edge that
had enabled him to carry the load for all those yahrens. And what made
it worse, was that except for Dr. Zee, he really didn't have anyone left
to turn to."
Apollo was surprised by the revelation, "Good Lord."
"The day before the landing was to take place, something happened,"
Dr. Zee said, "I was in my meditation chamber aboard the Galactica, where
I always spent my time harnessing my intelligence to deal with the
problems at hand the Fleet faced. I was contemplating the data we'd
received from our first monitoring of Earth, when....I felt and sensed a
great and powerful vision. Something I had never known the likes of
before, but which in retrospect I now realize was the first awakening of
one of my many latent powers," he paused, "It was a vision of four Cylon
baseships in orbit about a star system only nine light years from Earth.
And on the command baseship, I saw another vision. A vision of the
command throne....with you perched on it. Even though you were but an
image to me in Adama's holopictures and your appearance had changed
considerably over the yahrens, I knew instantly that the name of the
human commander of that task force was not Baltar."
The ex-Galactica warrior felt himself deflate, "So my father already
knows about me?"
"No," Dr. Zee shook his head, "When I told Adama of my vision of the
Cylon task force, and my realization that they were lying in wait for us
to lead them to Earth, I deliberately withheld that piece of information
from him. If he knew for even a micron that his son was alive and aboard
the Cylon task force, he might contemplate a decision even more rash than
landing on Earth."
Apollo instantly nodded, "He'd send some foolhardy mission to 'rescue'
me. You're right, that was one thing he could never know."
"So I merely impressed upon him the fact that the Cylons were lying in
wait and that we could not think of landing, or even reveal ourselves to
Earth's general population. I insisted, and he agreed, that what was
needed was a policy of gradualism, based on revealing ourselves to
several members of Earth's scientific community and slowly giving them
the tools to accelerate Earth technology."
"Okay," Apollo drew himself up, "That much I understand. But if you
were so important to my father, how come you're here now?"
Dr. Zee lowered his head, "I think as Starbuck put it so eloquently to
me once, I had a lot of growing-up to do. The reliance Adama had placed
on me, had caused me to assume a dangerous level of power where my advice
and counsel had literally become dictates for how the Fleet was to
operate safely. It reached the point where a number of members of the
Council of Twelve were ready to instigate a revolt that would topple him
from power and initiate a dangerous scheme for revealing ourselves
directly to Earth." he cast a glance at Starbuck, "And I had really
failed to recognize the seriousness of what my own youthful arrogance had
been doing in fomenting that discord between Adama and the Council."
"So they took you away from the Galactica and brought you here."
"It was all for the better," the boy said, "Adama was able to regain
his old sense of command initiative, and had reached the point where he
could make the right decisions without further need of assistance from
me."
"On the other hand, this operation was in dire need of someone with
Dr. Zee's gifts of intellect," Starbuck jumped back in, "Commander Deval
has done more than anyone could be expected to do in keeping these people
alive, but some critical situations had arisen in the ability to sustain
life here in Umbra that required the immediate attention of someone like
Dr. Zee."
"I've spent the last eight sectars as a much wiser and mature person
than I was with Adama," Dr. Zee said, "I try not to flaunt my powers with
Commander Deval or any of his other long-time advisors, and provide help
and assistance from a purely subordinate capacity."
"What have you been able to do?"
"Increase efficiency in our life-support, medical and computer
facilities," the mental genius said, "Provide them with new means of
salvaging the material that remains here in Umbra, as well as coordinate
effective strategies for our occasional forays on the surface at Cylon
supply centers."
"But to return to the question that's gotten lost in the shuffle,"
Apollo looked back at Starbuck, "What the frack am I doing here, and what
am I needed for?"
"To do something that not even I can do, Apollo," Dr. Zee said "You're
here to do the one thing that will enable this outpost of humanity to
finally become a true bastion of open resistance against the brutal Cylon
occupation of the colonies."
"And how am I supposed to do that?"
Starbuck didn't respond and turned back to his prodigy, "I think it's
time you get back to the Commander."
"Yes sir," Dr. Zee bowed with total deference to his elder and then
looked back at Apollo, "Goodbye Captain Apollo. We shall not be meeting
again, but when you see your father, I hope you'll tell him what's
become of me, and that I've become much wiser now."
And with that, he turned and went back through the sliding doors into
the main Command Center.
"All right, Starbuck, this has all been very interesting but would you
mind coming to the point for once? I'm beginning to get the feeling that
time and space isn't being suspended right now and that my colleagues
aboard my baseship are going to be discovering soon that their commander
is missing."
"No Apollo," Starbuck shook his head, "Don't be deceived by what your
eyes perceive as you inhabiting your body. At this very micron, your
body is in a deep sleep cycle in the quarters of your baseship and
Lucifer has been left with orders not to disturb you for a long while.
And should anyone of them get inquisitive, they will see you asleep, and
then do nothing, knowing the clout you wield with the Imperious Leader."
"Forgive me for doubting you on that point," Apollo said with a
resigned and chastened air, "Okay buddy, whatever it is, I'm willing."
"Good," Starbuck smiled, "Tell me Apollo, after all these yahrens of
being a Cylon commander, have you ever wondered what it would be like to
actually be a Cylon yourself?"
"You mean do I wonder what it's like to be a soulless machine?" Apollo
raised an eyebrow, "Am I about to find out?"
"Exactly, buddy. Your essence is about to inhabit the computer shell
of the command IL Cylon on this planet, by the name of...."
"Cannes," Apollo finished as his eyes bulged with amazement, "I know
the name from administrative reports I've seen over the yahrens."
"And Cannes is the only one who knows some very important security
secrets about how things operate here in the colonies," Starbuck said,
"What you're about to do, is take advantage of Cannes' command position,
and provide Commander Deval's resistance group with a much needed boost."
"How?"
"You'll be programming a malfunction into the entire Cylon computer
network," Starbuck said, "After a centar alone with the system, which is
your legal right once every sectar, you will leave the entire Cylon
defense force for this and all other twelve planets totally unguarded.
Their scanners and communications will go out, and their defense forces
will suddenly become vulnerable for the first time in thirty yahrens. In
particular, the Cylon aerodrome just fifteen kilometers to the northwest
of Umbra. Once the defense computers have been sabotaged, you will
broadcast a signal on the gamma frequency that all of the resistance
networks on the twelve worlds will be able to pick up, and that is when
they will all make the move they've been waiting thirty yahrens for."
"What good can they expect to accomplish?" Apollo chose to be
skeptical.
"A lot," Starbuck was blunt, "At this micron, Dr. Zee and Commander
Deval are coordinating a plan of operations for staging a commando raid
on the aerodrome and capturing it, fighters and all. Once they have it
secured, they can use the Cylon fighters to start inflicting major damage
on the installations and be in a position to fight back. The same holds
true for the other resistance networks who will also be staging raids on
nearby aerodromes. As soon as all of this happens, the result will be
chaos for the Cylons."
"It's not enough to help these resistance groups retake the planets
and you know that, Starbuck," Apollo pointed out.
"Actually, it's you who don't know what the outcome might be, Apollo,
but that isn't your concern," Starbuck retorted, "You're here to give
them a boost. To give them something to fight for, and to above all,
keep the Cylon Empire preoccupied with a major crisis closer to home than
what's happening in the vicinity of Earth."
"Explain the tie-in," his voice rose as soon as he heard the last
part.
"Not yet," his friend shook his head, "That's connected with phase two
of this whole scheme for getting you home, and that can't be talked about
until after you've succeeded with phase one, which begins now."
Starbuck motioned his arm, and the sight of the corridor complex
disappeared. The scene became so bright that Apollo shut his eyes for a
brief instant.
When he finally opened them, he found himself standing in another,
more sophisticated Command Center, surrounded entirely by gold and silver
centurions.
"By your command, Commander Cannes," one of them suddenly addressed
him.
Oh boy, Apollo thought with disbelief. This cannot be happening.
Cain hunched over the disassembled computer terminal in the Pegasus'
main corridor of Alpha Deck and grimly shook his head.
"Here's your problem," the Juggernaut pointed, "The bypass computer
relay circuit for the Alpha two system controlling access to the
contaminated regions shorted out. All you needed to do was replace the
wiring here, and it would have worked as good as new."
"That's a little too intricate for any of us to have spotted
ourselves, Commander," Colonel Skyler shook his head, "Getting you back
here and giving us access to the zones was a lot simpler."
"Then I suggest a little retraining of the Maintenance Division is in
order," there was a frosty air in Cain's voice, "They ought to be able
spot something like that, and avoid the hassle of making me go through a
very unorthodox travel procedure."
Skyler refrained from making any kind of retort. Just as it had been
with Tolen for so many yahrens, he had always known that he was not the
kind of executive officer to be regarded as a confident who could
stand-up on occasion to the commander.
"I'll be in my quarters," Cain said, "Let me know if there are any
further complications."
The executive officer waited until Cain was halfway down the hallway
before he muttered, "Yes sir," to himself.
In the meantime, Cain took the turbolift up one deck to his quarters,
hoping to find something that would enable him to submerge his combined
feelings of anger and anguish.
When he entered, the last thing he expected to see was a determined
Troy sitting in the chair.
"Captain Troy," Cain was taken aback, "Is there a reason why you've
come here?"
"I think you know the answer to that, Commander," Troy said, "Since
your return to the Pegasus ten centars ago, I've been waiting for the
courtesy of an update on what's happening on Earth."
Cain strolled over to his desk and sat down in his oversized chair
behind it, "Do you think that if I had anything meaningful to report that
I would not have come to you and Adama first with the news?"
"I'm not sure," Troy had reached the point where he refused to be
intimidated by the aura and presence of the Living Legend, "Maybe if you
thought the news was too bad, you'd decide that you needed to cover
things up."
"Why?" the Juggernaut settled back in his chair and kept his tone
quiet, "What reason would I have for withholding anything I might know
about your father?"
"To protect your daughter's reputation," he shot back.
Cain was silent for a moment, meeting Troy's implacable stare with one
of his own.
"I'd like to know what you mean by that remark, Captain."
"I think you already know, Commander."
"Then be man enough to repeat it aloud!" his voice rose.
Troy drew himself up, "Commander Cain, I do not mean any disrespect
towards a woman who was kind and gentle to me throughout my childhood,
and whom I have had feelings of love for at one time that were like that
of a son for a mother. But I cannot escape what is becoming an obvious
conclusion that the reason for the extent of her breakdown, and the
reason for why she isn't talking about what happened to my father, is
because she knows she is to blame for whatever happened."
"And you seem quite quick to assume that if she is thinking that, then
her feelings of guilt are not unreasonable."
"What else would I have to think, if she feels that way?" Troy held
his ground, "She's the only witness. She saw everything. We can't
rationalize it another way because none of us were there."
"Except your father," Cain leaned back feeling an edge of contempt
rise within him, "If he were able to tell us everything, maybe he'd put a
different spin on events from the way Sheba remembers them."
"But we already know we'll never hear his side of it, won't we?" the
Galactica warrior retorted.
The faintest smirk etched the corners of Cain's lips, "I guess not,"
he said, "Does Adama feel the same as you do?"
"He doesn't even know I'm here," Troy didn't skip a beat, "I'm
violating his order in coming here, but after all that we went through on
Earth Cain with the waiting, I don't care anymore."
The smirk faded from the Juggernaut's face and was replaced by an
increasingly dark cloud of anger.
"Let me get this straight," he half-rose from his chair, "Adama gave
you a direct order to stay clear of me, yet you've barged into my office
and hurled contemptible accusations against my daughter?"
"I don't regard them as contemptible, sir," Troy didn't bat an
eyelash, "But the rest, I don't deny. I think that after what we went
through together on Earth, you would understand my position."
"We're not on Earth anymore, Captain," Cain had reached a standing
position and placed his palms firmly on the desk, "It's time you remember
that."
The Juggernaut angrily flicked a switch, "Get me Commander Adama,
immediately."
Troy's expression didn't change as he saw his grandfather's face
appear on the monitor.
"Yes, Cain?"
"Adama, I think maybe it's time you tell your grandson that orders
from a superior officer are not to be ignored even by him," he then
turned the monitor so that Troy was looking directly at it.
The Galactica commander seemed stunned, "Troy, what in Kobol are
you....?" he trailed off, finding it incredible that his order on this
point would have been disobeyed.
"Doing what I have to do, Grandfather," Troy was unapologetic, "I make
no apologies for my actions."
"Adama, I insist on appropriate disciplinary action, immediately,"
Cain raised his voice a notch, "Captain Troy is one of your men, and
should be subject to the penalty for insubordination against two flag
officers."
Adama let out a deflated and dejected sigh, "Colonial military law is
quite clear on such matters. Captain Troy," his voice suddenly switched
to an edge of stern authority.
"Yes sir!" Troy remained unfazed as he came to attention.
"I think maybe it's time you learn what it's like to be in a different
working environment, where your status as my grandson can carry no
weight," he said, "You are relieved of all duties on Earth for the next
six sectars and are now transferred to flight operations aboard the
Pegasus, where you will report directly to Commander Cain's authority.
Your personal gear will be shuttled over later."
His grandson stiffened slightly. This was something he hadn't
expected.
"Do you find that acceptable, Commander Cain?" Adama inquired.
The Juggernaut gave Troy a satisfied look, "Yes, Adama, that will be
fine," he skipped a beat and then intensified his gaze in Troy, "You are
now deputy commander of Silver Spar Squadron. And your first deep scan
patrol begins in exactly twelve centars, Captain, so I suggest you get
yourself settled in immediately."
A tinge of anger came over Troy's face as he forced himself to salute,
"Yes sir!" his words were barely a hint away from being an angry growl.
And then, without waiting to be dismissed, he turned and walked out.
Cain settled back in his chair and resumed his conversation with
Adama, "Thank you, Adama," his voice returned to a more polite tone, "I
know that wasn't easy for you."
"I know," the Galactica commander cut in, "Cain, I did what I had to
do, but I must ask you one favor. Don't treat him too harshly."
"I won't," Cain said with sincerity, "I'll treat him like the good
warrior I know he is. I won't make it more difficult for him than I
would for anyone else."
"Thank you," Adama seemed slightly relieved, "I know what he did was
inexcusable, but Cain....man to man, is there something you're holding
back from the two of us about Apollo?"
The Juggernaut let out a sigh, "I don't know what happened, Adama," he
said, "She's only told Cassiopeia, and she's not telling me. I do know
she's still upset over it, and seems to blame herself for whatever
happened to Apollo."
"Do you think she has a right to?"
"Cassiopeia says no," Cain leaned back, "Naturally, I'm inclined to
believe her."
"Of course," Adama nodded, "Cain, I don't want to see any senseless
pressing of the issue. Whatever happened to Apollo, there's nothing that
can be done about that, and Sheba's well-being is all that matters now.
If the situation aboard the Pegasus is stable now, you have my permission
to return to Earth within a sectan."
The Juggernaut smiled thinly, "Thank you Adama, but I think I'm going
to hold-off on that for now. Sheba might feel a bit more relaxed away
from me for awhile. Besides," he hesitated slightly, "For some reason, I
get the feeling inside me that I'm best needed here for now."
"By your command, Commander Cannes," the centurion repeated.
Apollo tried to look down and raise his arms, but found that he
couldn't. As he took a second to contemplate things, he realized that
this experience was totally different from that time on Terra when he'd
been projected by the Ship of Lights into a false image of the Terran
named Charlie Watts, while simultaneously seeing his own face in the
mirror. But this time, it was all too clear that his conscience mind and
soul was resting entirely inside a complex piece of computer machinery.
He knew he couldn't waste time dwelling on that. He'd been given a
job to perform, and he had to perform it fast.
"Yes centurion," Apollo spoke and right away heard a voice different
from his own. It was a richer, more refined voice, similar to, but not
quite identical to Lucifer's, "I intend to make my periodic inspection of
our computer system. Do not disturb me for the next centar." He felt a
large measure of relief that he'd long ago mastered the ability to speak
in an intimidating tone to centurions. It was certainly coming in handy
now.
"By your command," the centurion seemed to bow in deference and
Apollo/Cannes moved forward.
Wait a micron, Apollo thought. Where the frack is the Command Center?
Then he remembered that since he was inside a soulless machine, he should
theoretically be able to retain all of the knowledge that Cannes
possessed. After a brief delay of contemplation, he resumed walking, or
what felt more like gliding to him, across the floor to the doorway at
the other end of the Command Center. Almost immediately, the door slid
open and he went inside.
As he heard the doors shut, Apollo allowed his computer eyes, to look
about the room where he could see the computer banks stacked against one
side of the wall. To the other side, sunlight streamed through a window
from the outside. He absently made his way over to the window first,
wondering if he might recognize what was outside. As soon as he looked,
he immediately recognized the colonnade of the Caprican Presidium some
ten floors beneath him. That meant that the Cylons had completely
rebuilt the main structure of downtown Caprica City that had been the
seat of the Caprican civil government. Many times, when he was a boy
growing up on the western seashore, his mother had taken him to the
spectator gallery of the Presidium's Main Council Chamber that had been
located in the building next door. It had been there that he had watched
his father's name be placed in nomination for the Caprican seat on the
Council of Twelve, and he could still recall hearing the Presidium's
Majority Leader moving to suspend the regular order and confirm Adama by
acclamation. And then, he could remember exuberantly jumping on top of
his chair so he could take in the sight of the Presidium, with one voice,
triumphantly applauding Adama's victory.
He could see everything about that day. Athena, like him, only six at
the time also clapping wildly. And Zac, only two, sitting on his
mother's lap, seemingly oblivious to the whole thing happening in the
Gallery below as he absently sucked him thumb.....
Quit wasting time Apollo, he could almost feel the programmed logic of
the IL Cylon body he now housed kicking in. This is hardly the time to
go off into the realm of sentimental memories.
Get started.
He glided over to the computer banks and sat down at the main terminal
station. Remembering that the heavy robes of an IL concealed massive
cybernetic arms (creating the illusion to an outside observer that they
were armless), he gave his arms a command to extend themself from
underneath his robe, enabling him to get started.
IDENTIFICATION CODE REQUIRED FOR ACCESS, the monitor flashed.
Again, Apollo allowed the functional side of Cannes to take over as
his metal fingers punched in the required identification that gave
Commander Cannes alone the privilege to access the system.
Why did IL commanders get this kind of special clearance? he thought.
Then he remembered a briefing he'd once had from Lucifer. IL commanders,
because of their ability to grasp in limited form the human capacity for
individual initiative, were the only Cylons capable of analyzing computer
systems for flaws that the ordinary centurion monitor would never detect.
It was all in the name of efficiency.
Efficiency, he thought with disgust. What exactly do Cylons plan to
do in a universe of machine thinking, with no other sentient life forms
around? Twice, he'd tried delicately probing that question with Lucifer
over the yahrens, but his deputy commander had always been circumspect on
the issue. Maybe because he was afraid that telling Apollo the truth
would give him too much incentive for defecting back.
As the computer began to display readouts for the security codes of
all military facilities in the twelve worlds, Apollo wished he had a body
capable of inhaling. For the first time since their construction a
thousand yahrens ago by the extinct race of Cylon reptiles, a Cylon robot
felt nervous.
One-by-one, he looked them over. A simple case of programming a
shutdown virus was all that was needed. A little trick that no Cylon
mind could possibly override, and the military installations of the
colonies would be vulnerable.
He started with the four outer planets. Sagitara. Aquaria. Aeries.
Libra.
PROGRAMMING COMPLETE.
Next came the four middle colonies. Taurus. Leo. Virgo. Piscera.
He almost hesitated with that last one, since it had been Baltar's
colony. The one colony the human traitor had hoped to see spared from
the Holocaust. He found himself wondering if Piscera deserved to get the
same benefits the others were about to get, and then he realized that he
was letting an unjustified prejudice enter his thinking. None of the
people left alive on Piscera probably had anything to do with Baltar's
operation, even though he had needed a good deal of help from
subordinates to carry out his betrayal of humanity.
PROGRAMMING COMPLETE.
Finally, the four inner colonies. Gemon. Cancera. Skorpia. And
finally, Caprica.
PROGRAMMING COMPLETE.
He looked at the monitor again. The neatly aligned row of computer
readouts for each of the twelve planets suddenly took on a strange,
confused look that no Cylon mind would be capable of deciphering. It was
all done.
There was only one thing left to do. Let all of the resistance
networks in the colonies know that the way was clear now.
He switched the computer terminal to the communications band, and
instantly began to send the signal on the gamma frequency that Starbuck
had somehow implanted on his mind. He immediately wished he was capable
of chuckling, when he realized what the words of the signal were. "The
Peace Conference has resumed."
As soon as he was finished, he suddenly heard Starbuck's voice, "Okay
buddy, that's it. Your job here is done."
A piercing alarm suddenly went off as Apollo rose from the chair.
"They just saw their deep-scan go out," Starbuck said, "When they come
in here, don't panic. As a matter-of-fact, it's important you let them
overreact. The idea is to let them shoot you."
"What?" Apollo managed to dart his IL body around where he could see
Starbuck.
"Trust me," Starbuck grinned and faded out.
The door slid open and a gold-plated command centurion marched into
the room, trailed by two regular centurions.
"What has happened centurions?" Apollo/Cannes kept his tone level.
"We are reading indications of failure in deep scan, and other
computer systems."
"Should that present much of a problem?"
"Sir," the command centurion pointed out, "All of those systems are
controlled from here. Did anything happen when you began your
inspection?"
"Not at all, centurion," Apollo/Cannes kept his tone nonchalant,
"Surely the problem must be traceable elsewhere."
"You are lying, Commander," the command centurion suddenly sounded
accusing, even through his monotonic drone, "You have sabotaged the
system. Why?"
"I don't think I need to answer that, since I am your superior,"
Apollo injected a haughty aura into his tone, "You will be causing a good
deal of trouble for yourself."
"I think not. You have sabotaged the system. You are a traitor."
Apollo decided to borrow a phrase he was fond of hearing Lucifer say,
"Oh you centurions are so limited in your ability to comprehend things."
And with that, he started to make his way past the three centurions.
"Halt!" the command centurion blurted.
As he glided across the floor, Apollo suddenly felt the sensation of
rising out of the computer shell he'd been occupying, just a fraction of
a second before a laser blast struck the IL Cylon Cannes right in the
back.
"Well done," he heard Starbuck's voice, "In their haste, they've shot
dead the only Cylon who could conceivably override the problem you just
programmed. You passed phase one with flying colors."
Apollo could still feel himself rising, up and out of the building
until they were both outside and could see the entire Caprican landscape.
"Look over there at the aerodrome," Starbuck pointed, "Commander
Deval's gotten started."
Apollo looked off into the distance and could see several explosions
erupting from the aerodrome complex where the Cylon fighters were kept.
"What will happen to them?" Apollo asked as they continued to rise and
the Caprican surface faded completely from view, "Will these raids make
any real difference?"
"That's not for you to find out, Apollo," Starbuck said, "You were
needed to give them a badly needed headstart. From this point forward,
all of the resistance networks control their own destiny."
"But--" Apollo protested.
"Apollo, whatever happens in the colonies isn't your concern, or that
of the Galactica, the rest of the Fleet or Earth. Your destiny and
theirs, lies elsewhere. What you've guaranteed is that if phase two goes
off successfully, the Cylons are going to have something more important
to concern themselves with than attending to the aftermath of phase two."
"And what does phase two entail?"
Starbuck smiled, "Well for one thing, it begins with getting you back
to your ship."
And in the blink of an eye, Apollo felt the pain of numerous muscle
aches and cramps as he saw the familiar sight of his chambers aboard the
command base ship return to him.
Chapter Fourteen
Slowly, Apollo flexed himself before he finally found the strength to
rise from his bed. He walked over to the porthole and gazed outside, as
if he expected to see white flashes of light move past again.
He lightly massaged the back of his neck and absently shook his head
as if he wondered if he'd just awakened from an incredible dream that had
been too good to be true.
"It's not a dream buddy."
He turned around and saw Starbuck standing there.
"Okay," Apollo felt a large measure of relief go through his body at
the sight of his old friend, "Okay, what about phase two?"
Before Starbuck could respond, the chime sounded and the door promptly
slid open. Seconds later, Lucifer glided into the room.
"Ah, Commander. It is nice to see you finally awake from your sleep
cycle."
Apollo quickly straightened himself to a posture of authority, "Do you
have something to report, Lucifer?"
"Indeed," the IL Cylon said, "Another message from your predecessor on
Gomorrah."
The task force commander chuckled as he slipped into his greeb command
tunic and tightened his belt, "A message from Baltar is always
interesting. What does he have to say?"
"At the moment, nothing. The request is to speak directly to you."
"Then I shouldn't keep him waiting," Apollo said, "Set up a secure
circuit immediately."
As Apollo followed his second-in-command out, he cast a quick glance
behind him. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Starbuck giving him a
reassuring smile and nod just before his friend's image winked out.
As soon as Apollo was alone in the communiactions complex and had
dismissed both Lucifer and the two centurions on guard, he took a deep
breath as he pressed the button that would initiate the conversation.
When Baltar's face came on the screen, he noticed right away that it's
characteristic tinge of suspicion whenever he spoke to him, was still
there.
"So tell me Apollo," the elderly human traitor didn't bother with
pleasantries, "Exactly how did you accomplish it?"
Apollo lifted an eyebrow with a bemused aura, "Accomplish what,
Baltar?"
"I think you know what I mean," Baltar said, "I have just received a
very interesting, and panicked message from the Imperious Leader. Some
strange developments are now happening on the former twelve planets of
the colonies."
"Really?" Apollo didn't bat an eyelash, "What kind of strange
developments?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Captain Apollo," there was a strange mixture
of anger and what almost seemed like pleading in Baltar's voice, "I don't
know how you were able to accomplish it, but if what the Imperious Leader
has told me is true, then I know that somehow, you and your father are
involved. For fifteen yahrens you've planned this, and you've finally
done it. Admit it."
"I have nothing to admit, Baltar," Apollo shook his head in bemused
incredulity, "Particularly since I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do," Baltar didn't let up, "If you weren't Adama's son, I
wouldn't think it for a minute. But knowing his strange gift for
mysticisim, why should I think it unlikely that he could pass the same
gift off to his son?"
"Baltar, if there is a point to this conversation, please come to it."
"There has been a sudden outbreak of resistance from previously
unknown factions of humans on all of the twelve worlds," the human
traitor finally came out with it, "The early results have not been good
for our forces. Over several hundred fighters were captured and used in
massive counterstrikes on our facilities and garrisons stationed there."
Apollo put on the display of surprise and amazement he was capable of
summoning, "You can't be serious. I thought there were no humans left on
the twelve worlds."
"It seems that there are some things our Imperious Leader has not
bothered to tell even you or me after all these yahrens. But I suspect
in your case, you didn't need to be told."
"Baltar," Apollo laughed, "I am right now, aboard a baseship located
approximately twenty thousand light years from the star system of the
twelve worlds, where it would take the better part of five yahrens for a
baseship to reach this area at top speed. Explain to me how I could have
any remote connection with what's happening there now?"
"I don't know the answer to that," Baltar admitted, "But where you and
your father are concerned, I don't discount anything."
"I'm afraid you have a seriously overinflated view of Commander
Adama's capabilities," playing the part of a committed Cylon commander
meant never referring to Adama as "my father."
"Oh no," Baltar shook his head, "Whenever your father is concerned, I
learned a long time ago not to underestimate him, especially when it came
to his obsession with the mystical. After all, I saw it first hand with
you many yahrens ago on Kobol. You, me, and your dearly departed wife,
Serina."
Apollo suddenly grew silent.
"And if my suspicion is right Captain, even though it is one I can
never prove, because it is one I could not possibly fathom as to how you
accomplished it," Baltar pressed on, "It will give me even greater
pleasure to see his death one day. For if it is destruction of the
Empire and revenge for the colonies that you and he wanted all along, you
could have had the same thing from me thirty yahrens ago, if you'd
accepted my offer instead of beginning that quest for the myth called
Earth."
Apollo's eyes widened just a fraction of an inch.
"Your expression betrays you, Captain Apollo," Baltar said as if he
felt like he'd scored a victory, "You are no true devotee to the Cylon
cause. Well there was once a time when the same was true of me. Do you
really think I wanted to embrace the Cylons in the first place, Captain?
Do you think that after seeing the Imperious Leader's double-crossing
predecessor renege on the bargain I'd struck to spare Piscera, that I
wanted to turn you and the Galactica over to the Empire?"
The bemusement was gone from Apollo's face. He'd had many
conversations with Baltar through the yahrens, before and after his
defection, but this was the first time he could ever recall Baltar
striking him as being emotionally, and genuinely..... sincere.
"When I made that offer in that dark tomb on Kobol to turn the tables
on these machines and stage a counterattack that could destroy the home
planet, I was in earnest," Baltar went on, "I desperately wanted a chance
to make up for what I'd done, since I'd realized too late the folly of
expecting the Cylons to keep their word. True, I had to lie about small
details to make me look less evil than I'd been. That part about being
trapped between the Atlantia and my own flagship and getting captured was
a white lie, but as for the rest, I spoke the truth."
Apollo refused to answer. Any questions would only amount to
betraying himself too soon. He had to keep a stone face and not rise to
the challenge. But still, all of what he heard was utterly fascinating.
And at the very least, he already knew that Baltar wasn't recording this
conversation to present to the Imperious Leader.
Or was he? Apollo realized that this could all be an elaborate ploy
to get him to let his guard down, and cause him to blow his facade at a
critical point when that couldn't be allowed to happen.
"Why do you think I was always obsessed with chasing you down?" Baltar
refused to let-up, "I've never been interested in the Cylon vision of
order. The only reason why I serve the Cylon cause as a true believer is
because your father left me with no choice after Kobol. He denied me my
one opportunity to be a human being again and forced me to become an
outcast for eternity in the name of survival."
"Baltar," Apollo finally found the strength to speak again, "This is
all very interesting, and I sincerely hope for your sake that you are not
recording this conversation, because what you have just said would be
grounds for execution. If it's absolution you wish for your alleged
sins, you can not get it from me."
"I see through your facade, Captain," Baltar's eyes darkened, "I
somehow suspect that when next we converse, you and I will be holding
dramatically different positions from what we hold now."
"On the day the Fleet and Earth are destroyed, I may consider a place
for you as my deputy, Baltar," Apollo smiled with a malevolent smirk, "So
perhaps you are correct. Goodbye, and let the Imperious Leader know that
my best wishes go to him in eradicating the last vestiges of human
presence in the colonies."
And then Apollo flicked the switch off, and slowly sank back in his
chair with a deep exhale.
He couldn't begin to speculate whether or not Baltar had been telling
the truth, nor could he speculate on how and why the traitor had
developed his specualtion about Apollo being connected with the outbreak
of resistance. When it came right down to it, he wasn't sure he cared
all that much.
But one phrase kept sticking out and playing itself over and over
again in his mind. The phrase about becoming an outcast in the name of
survival. That was true of himself, but in a different context from
Baltar's situation. He had become an outcast from everything he had
loved and held dear to him.....and the end result had been in the name of
survival.
For the first time, he felt as if understood Starbuck's explanation on
why he had been chosen for such a horrible task that had brought great
inner pain and anguish to himself, and had no doubt caused greater pain
for the ones he had been parted from. Had he not been here, the Fleet
would not have survived, and those same loved ones who'd mourned his loss
would all be dead now. Baltar's obsessive desire for revenge, legitimate
or not, would have led to no other outcome.
Whatever happened to him from this moment forward, Apollo knew that he
could never harbor any feelings of bitterness about the past, and what
he'd been forced to endure. He had brooded many times in the solitude of
his chambers as to why a monster like Iblis could be permitted to run
freely throughout the universe and casue such suffering as had been
inflicted on him. But now he knew that no matter what happened to any
single individual, Iblis and his like did not control the course of
history. Someone else did that. The One he had tried to shut himself
off from for yahrens, but Who he now realized had been watching over him
and the survivors of human civilization all along.
For the first time in sixteen yahrens, he actually found himself
praying, and asking for forgiveness.
"Okay Apollo," he heard Starbuck's voice again, "It's time for phase
two to begin."
Apollo slowly turned around and saw Starbuck standing without any
trace of a smirk or lightheartedness in his expression or tone.
"What do I do?" Apollo gently inquried.
"Just what you've always wished to do for sixteen yahrens," Starbuck
said, "You know what you're capable of doing. Act on that. The plan
should come quite naturally to you since you've played it out in your
mind thousands of times over the yahrens."
Slowly, Apollo nodded and then went back to his computer console,
punching in access codes that only he, as taskforce commander, was
entitled to know, about certain features of all four baseships in the
task force.
As he had done with the access codes for the defense forcs of the
colonies, he now punched in a new set of instructions pertaining to the
reactor control systems of each of the four basestars.
When he had finished, Apollo calmly rose from his chair and exited the
command center at a normal, nonchalant pace.
He had exactly twenty centons.
"Lucifer," Apollo said as he came up to the IL Cylon, "I'm resuming my
sleep cycle now. I'm not to be disturbed for another two centars."
"With all due respect, Commander," Lucifer said, "You have had a
rather inordinate period of sleep cycle time as it is."
"And it is my perogative to decide that I am in need of more," Apollo
gently retorted, "Don't question my decision, Lucifer."
"Forgive my impudence," he bowed slightly and backed away, as Apollo
moved past down the corridor.
As soon as Apollo was sure he was out-of-sight, he promptly darted
back toward the hatch leading to the central core shaft.
He felt his hand sweating as he twisted open the hatch and crawled
inside. A lone centurion that guarded the core shaft came to attention
as soon as he saw Apollo.
"Carry on centurion," Apollo said politely. The centurion nodded and
resumed his lonely vigil, while Apollo put his hands on the ladder and
slowly climbed up the central shaft to the basestar's top deck. Where
the launch and landing bay was.
Once he reached the top, he opened the hatch on the top level and
stepped out onto the tarmac of the landing bay. More than two hundred
Cylon fighters were lined up in orderly rows throughout the cavernous
hangar.
One was all he needed. But the closer it was to the opening in the
basestar's top that led to the way out, the better.
As he made his way past the columns and rows of sleek fighting
machines, he nearly froze when he saw a lone centurion emerging from one
fighter toward the far-end of the hangar.
Time to be a Cylon commander for the last time, Apollo thought.
"Centurion," he called him over. The centurion promptly responded and
came up to him.
"By your command, Commander."
"Centurion, let me see your laser pistol. I've been conducting a
surprise inspection to see if all centurions are carrying fully charged
pistols at all times."
It seemed like the kind of silly statement that Starbuck would have
tried out of desperation if he'd been in a similar fix. But Apollo felt
a strange sense of security that he could gamble on the instinct that
sixteen yahrens of building trust with the Cylons would pay off in this
particular instance.
To his relief, the centurion, who had served under his command for
many yahrens, obeyed.
"Thank you centurion," Apollo inspected it, "My compliments. You've
followed procedure right down to the letter. I'm sure that as commander,
I could find a way to reward you for your dilligence."
And then, Apollo suddenly summoned the reflexes of his long-forgotten
warrior's skills and shot the centurion in the chest.
"I'm afraid I can't reward you, pal," Apollo looked down at the broken
mechanical body with contempt and walked passed it, "I quit."
He entered the Cylon fighter, knowing that two other centurions were
still inside. Before either of them could react, he shot them both dead
as well.
"Good thing I didn't train you scrap-heaps to react as quickly as
humans," Apollo grunted as he pulled the lead centurion's body out of the
pilot's seat and settled down into the chair.
Let's see, he thought. For sixteen yahrens, he'd mentally trained
himself to learn how to fly a Cylon fighter solo in the hopes that what
he was doing now would one day come to pass. Now, all those yahrens of
mental daydreaming was about to pay off.
He started up the engines and sucked in his breath in nervous tension,
before the Cylon fighter streaked to life and exited the basestar.
"At long last, our Commander has revealed his true stripes," Lucifer
said with a trace of smugness as he shut off the monitor he'd been using
to follow Apollo's progress ever since parting with him in the corridor,
"Give him five centons to make him think he's gotten away safely. Then
launch a strike patrol to take him out."
"By your command," the gold centurion nodded.
"I always suspected that he'd crack someday," Lucifer went on, "It was
only a matter of when."
"Would it not have been proper to request his removal from command?"
the command centurion asked.
"Certainly not," Lucifer injected the arrogant tone he always used to
remind centurions of his intellectual superiority, "Our very
limited-thinking Imperious Leader has long let himelf be blinded to the
possibility that Captain Apollo would never remain a traitor forever."
Just then, another centurion came up to the IL Cylon at a fast,
hurried pace, "Sir."
"Yes, centurion?"
"We have detected a potentially alarming situation. The other
baseships report that their reactor control readings are suddenly
malfunctioning."
"What?" the IL Cylon was caught off-guard, "On all three? But how---"
abruptly Lucifer broke off as he realized in horror the implications of
what the centurion had just reported.
"Sir?" the silver centurion asked.
"Centurion," Lucifer tried desperately to collect himself and
rechannel his energies, "You are to inform the baseships that the final
assault on the Galactica and her Fleet begins now. All fighters are to
be launched immediately and are to keep fighting until the entire Fleet
is destroyed!"
"By your command," the centurion nodded and moved away.
Lucifer's specially programmed IL circuits, based on the model of
second-brain Cylons, made him the only Cylon aboard the basestar capable
of realizing what had happened.
He had badly misjudged Apollo. He had always assumed that the human
traitor would one day try to redefect, but he had taken for granted the
idea that it would be the result of long yahrens of massive guilt and a
mental breakdown. If it was true that the reactors of all the other
baseships were malfunctioning, than that indicated a calculated,
pre-determined plan, stretching back who knew how many yahrens?
And he knew that once a reactor started to malfunction, there was
literally no way of stopping it.
And if Apollo had bothered to do that to the other baseships, was it
only a matter of time before.....?
Abruptly, Lucifer glided out of the command center as the alert sirens
sounded and hundreds of centurion pilots marched through the corridors,
headed for the hangar deck.
It had taken more than two centons of flying before Apollo began to
feel comfortable with the controls of the Cylon fighter. He finally
programmed a course that would take him to the last position of the Fleet
that had been registered on the monitors.
Okay, he was away at last. But what would happen once he reached the
Fleet? How would he able to communicate with them, and make them believe
who he was?
Could he tell them who he was?
Several more centons passed and he checked his chronometer. Another
ten centons and it would all be over. No matter what they sent out, no
ships pursuing him would have a home to go back to.
But even that would raise a lot of potential problems. Suppose they
got a good many fighters off? Would there be enough for them to inflict
catastrophic damage to the Galactica and the rest of the Fleet?
"Starbuck?" he said aloud.
There was no response. And then, Apollo felt the sweat break out on
his forehead as he saw his rear scanner start to emit a large number of
blips. His escape had been discovered and they were launching what they
had.
"Silver Spar deep probe, transferring core systems to you---"
"Shove the systems check, Core Command. I'm ready and I'm going
without waiting for you to tell me what I've done a million fracking
times in my sleep!"
And before the bridge duty officer could stammer an indignant reply,
an angry Troy fired up his trubos and rocketed out of the Pegasus launch
tube to begin his first deep patrol flight in more than four yahrens.
To say that Troy was livid over the turn of events that had taken
place, would have been an understatement. If anything, the one thing he
could feel grateful about when it came to going on a long lonely patrol,
was that it would give him some badly needed time to calm down and
suppress the desire to punch Cain in the mouth.
Blasted gallmonging daggit, he thought, as he took his viper on a
heading as far away from the Fleet and Earth as he dared to go. We made
all kinds of accomodations for him when it came to Sheba, but when it
came time for the other shoe to drop and get to the truth about the man
who'd been the focal point of his entire life, it was time for caution
again.
He kept thinking over-and-over that there was hypocrisy at work.
Cassiopeia had practically bulldozed her way over Adama and him in
getting the truth about Sheba to come out, yet when it came time for the
truth about his father.....
Troy shook his head again and relieved some of his inner anger and
tension by pounding his fist against the canopy.
It seemed to work. "Calm down, Captain," he slowly exhaled and
lowered his head, "Calm down."
He almost wished that a Cylon fighter would appear at some point on
the patrol. Anything that would give him an excuse to destroy something
would make him feel a lot better when it came to his impatience over his
father.
Troy punched the throttle of his viper and headed further and further
away from the Fleet.
"Come on," Apollo whispered, "Come on. Don't let me down after all
this."
The numbers registering on his scanner slowly became larger and larger
and he felt his heart start to pound faster. He wondered for an awful
instant whether his middle-aged body was going to be able to put up with
the strain.
"You owe me, God," he whispered again, "You owe me."
He kept watching the rear scanner as the Cylon fighter hurtled
forward.
There was at least one baseship's worth of fighters off and pursuing
him. He tried to envision what Lucifer would do if he'd discovered that
the task force was doomed. And in an instant he knew that the IL Cylon
would get off as many fighters as he possibly could and try for an
impromptu attempt at destroying the Fleet.
All of them bearing down on him in the meantime.
Was this how it felt like with Zac? he wondered. The memory of his
younger brother trying to outran the Cylon attack force that destroyed
the Colonial Fleet in the Holocaust, had haunted him for so many yahrens,
but until now, he'd never had an inkling of the kind of terror Zac must
have gone through before his tragic death.
Another check of his chronometer. One centon to go.
The microns left seemed to go by with agonizing slowness.
Five, four, three, two, one.
Approximately two hundred fighters from the four baseships had gotten
away when the reactor engines inside each of them, abruptly hit critical
mass causing a chain reaction of events that no Cylon mind was capable of
dealing with.
As if it had been all timed in perfect synchronization, each of the
four baseships simply flashed a bright white and vanished, leaving no
trace of wreckage at all. One instant they were there, the next, they
were gone.
The power and force of the blinding flash mushroomed out and consumed
the trailing Cylon fighters that had gotten off last. But most of the
two hundred were able to get away safely and continue on course.
In an instant, the command pilots of each of the fighters knew that
there was no ship for any of them to go back to. For all of them, the
mission had now become one way.
With that realization kicking into their programmed minds, a new
programming suddenly took over. One-by-one, each Cylon aboard each
fighter shifted their programming to the suicide mode.
It was a programming shift that served to make the attacking phalanx
even more deadly for those that might cross their path.
And it was only a matter of time before that would include the entire
Colonial Fleet.
Troy took another glance at his computer and frowned slightly. An
indication had just come up that made absolutely no sense whatsoever to
him. He had focused a quick environmental scan on the star system of
Sirius, and he was getting back a report of a major, massive explosion of
unknown composition and magnitude.
Very strange, he thought as he hit the communications switch.
"Silver Spar deep patrol to Pegasus, acknowledge."
There was no response.
"Silver Spar deep patrol to Pegasus. Please acknowledge."
Still nothing.
Finally, Troy took the hint, "Look, bridge officer, whoever you are,
put me on turboflush clean-up duty if you like because of my last
transmission, but for sagan's sake, acknowledge!"
"Pegasus Core Command acknowledging," there was considerable frost and
contempt in the voice of the bridge officer Troy had spoken harshly to
before, "Status."
"Have just picked up indications of a massive explosion in the Sirius
star system. Am going in to investigate. Please relay information to
Galactica Core Command as well."
"Affirmative, deep patrol. Will pass on report," the contempt hadn't
lessened in the slightest as the transmission ceased.
Troy activated his main turbo again and drew himself closer and closer
to the point of light that was Sirius.
Another twenty microns passed and his foreward scanner suddenly
emitted a blip.
The captain immediately activated his warbook manual and instantly saw
the readout that it was a lone Cylon fighter.
Well, well, Troy suddenly broke into a grin. Like the Holy book of
Earth says, ask and you shall receive.
Feeling a rising level of eager anticipation inside him, he switched
on his attack computer and plotted an intercept course.
The four baseships that registered as circular orbs on Apollo's rear
scanner mushroomed into large globs for an instant, and then slowly
winked out
Immediately, Apollo heaved a sigh of relief. The very worst nightmare
was over. But there were still several obstacles ahead to confront.
Outrunning the fighters that had gotten off. Finding a way to make
contact with the Fleet, and hoping they would be able to handle the
incoming force.
He switched his scan beam from rear to foreward and instantly saw one
contact register. A quick check revealed that it was a lone Colonial
viper. Must be a deep patrol, he thought.
The moment of contact with his people for the first time in sixteen
long painful yahrens had finally come. He hoped to God that he'd be able
to get through to whoever it was before the pilot impulsively chose to
blast him out-of-the-sky, like any good warrior would.
"Commander," Boomer said as Adama entered the Galactica's bridge, "We
just got a message from the Pegasus. Their deep patrol pilot reports
something odd's happened up in the Sirius star system. Some kind of
massive explosion."
Adama went over to the navigation board on the upper deck of the
bridge and stared at it intently for a moment.
"Colonel," he said, "If I remember correctly, that star system was not
far from where Commander Cain said the Cylons had set-up their task
force."
"What could it mean?" the executive officer asked aloud.
"I have no idea," Adama shook his head and kept staring at the board,
"But let's not take any chances. Put all fighters on Yellow Alert launch
standby, and notify the Pegasus our recommendation that they do
likewise."
"Yes sir."
Troy kept his eye on the attack computer as the blip of the lone Cylon
fighter drew closer. It wouldn't be long and he'd score his first kill
of the enemy in many yahrens. Ever since the last great attack of ten
yahrens ago that had killed his aunt Athena, the Cylons had confined
themselves to occasional patrol forays only, never sending out more than
three or four ships on a given occasion. Only twice, in the last ten
yahrens, had Troy been able to score a kill.
He tightened his grip on the control stick while his right thumb
hovered above the red button, getting ready.
He looked up and saw the Cylon fighter come into view off in the
distance. Not yet close enough for accuarate firing range.
Might as well let him know I'm here, he thought as his finger came
down on the button.
Apollo had prepared to initiate a transmission to the approaching
viper pilot when the sudden burst of fire from far out caught him
off-guard, and sent a shock wave through his fighter.
Oh boy, he thought. Of all the viper pilots to confront, it had to be
one who's overly trigger happy.
He felt his body tensing and could feel the sweat dripping down his
face and into his beard as he pressed the transmit button set to the
unicom frequency that he hoped and prayed was still used by Colonial
pilots after all these yahrens.
"Viper---"
He was then forced to break off as another burst of fire struck closer
to him.
Apollo straightened himself and could see the viper fast apporaching.
The first two had been shots designed to intimidate him. The next one
was going to find its target.
What a sick irony this was shaping up to be, he thought. All that
effort escaping from the Cylons and it's a human who could be the
instrument of my death. He pressed the button again and spoke as rapidly
as he could.
"Viper pilot, please hold your fire! Please hold your fire, I am not
a Cylon, I am human! I say again, I am human!"
The sound of the panicked voice suddenly filled Troy's cockpit. The
warrior's eyes widened in amazement and his finger rose up from the fire
button, but remained poised above it, as though only a minor delay had
come up.
"Viper pilot, please listen to me! I'm human, and I'm not in an
attack mode. Let me surrender to you, please!"
The voice was high, somewhat panicked and a bit aged. It didn't
strike any chord of recognition in Troy except to cause him to frown in
disbelief.
It has to be a trick, he thought. Sure, it was a normal human voice
and not the monotonous drone of a Cylon, but he'd been told many times
how more advanced Cylons had been given normal speech ability. It could
easily be one of them. After all these yahrens, who knew what the might
of the Cylon arsenal had been able to come up with? And a request to
surrender? Perhaps a trap designed to infiltrate the Fleet, and learn
about Earth?
His first impulse was to throw caution to the wind and just blast
whoever it was, away into the infinite micro-atoms of spacedust. He'd
been in a bad enough mood to give it more than a lingering micron's
thought. Finally, he allowed professional prudence to kick in, and he
pressed his transmitter.
"Listen, Cylon fighter pilot, whoever you are. This is Captain Troy,
temporarily of the Battlestar Pegasus, and you're going to have to give
me one hell of a good reason why I should even think of trusting you."
As soon as he heard the voice, Apollo literally went into numb shock.
He knew right away that the pilot was his son. Even though he'd said
Pegasus and not Galactica, there was no mistaking the voice.
And he also realized that his frenzied communication could not
possibly have been in a voice that Troy would recognize. The more he
thought of it, his voice had probably changed too much from the ravages
of time alone to be recognizable to anyone he had once known.
He had to say something that his son would immediately recognize and
give him a reason for trusting him.
Right away, he knew that he only needed to say one word.
"Boxey?"
Chapter Fifteen
Inside the viper cockpit, the feeling of numb shock felt by Apollo was
repeated on a far more massive scale.
Troy's hand fell off the control stick and he almost felt his viper
veer out of control.
How? he thought. How in the name of all that's holy, could that
person have known that.......?
"Boxey?" the voice repeated in a pleading tone, "Boxey, I know this is
impossible for you to believe, but it's me. I swear by all the Lords of
Kobol it's me!"
Troy shook his head as he tried to shake off the effects of the shock
he was feeling. He didn't want to form the word on the tip of his
tongue. Every instinct said he couldn't possibly have a reason for
saying it. But how else could....
He finally summoned the nerve, "Dad?"
"Yes," there was an edge of relief in Apollo's voice, "Yes Boxey, it's
me. Look, I have no time to explain until we're both safely back in the
Fleet, but we've got to get going. There's an attack phalanx of about
two hundred Cylon fighters trailing me and headed for the Fleet."
Somehow, Troy managed to look at his scanner and saw the large number
of small blips registering, drawing closer, with the words CONDITION RED
flashing on and off.
"Okay," he took a deep breath, "I'll escort you in. And I'll also
notify the Fleet."
"And don't ask any questions yet, Boxey," Apollo raised his voice to a
level that almost suggested parental authority, "I'll say it again, I
don't have the time to explain right now."
Troy looked back at the scanner again, "You and me both."
The two fighters, one Colonial, one Cylon, both assumed parallel
headings back towards the Fleet, hoping that they'd be able to outrun the
powerful, deadly onslaught behind them.
"Commander Cain on com-line Alpha, sir," the Galactica bridge officer
called up to the upper deck where Adama and Boomer were.
"Thank you," Adama nodded and went over to the monitor. An instant
later, the concerned expression of the Juggernaut came on.
"Adama, I've just picked up an alarming report from your grandson.
He's flying deep patrol and he reports a whole baseship's worth of Cylon
fighters headed our way."
The Galactica commander tensed as he too, remembered what had happened
to his youngest son, "Can he make it back ahead of them?"
"So far, that remains to be seen," Cain said, "He just entered our
scan and it indicates that there's a single Cylon fighter alongside him."
"Alongside?" Adama frowned, "You mean pursuing."
"No Adama. I mean alongside him. It's as if they're flying parallel
courses."
Adama exchanged glances with his executive officer. Boomer was
equally perplexed.
"But whatever that whole thing is about, we've got an impending attack
to deal with," the Juggernaut went on, "All my pilots are ready for
immediate launching."
"Yes," Adama nodded, "By all means go ahead. Our squadrons will
follow."
As soon as the transmission ended, Adama said firmly, "Battle
stations!"
"Battle stations!" Boomer repeated to the rest of the bridge.
In an instant the red glow of the alert light and the wail of the
klaxon that hadn't been sounded for ten long yahrens went off.
Adama slowly made his way to the railing and began to intently stare
out the view screen. Concerned, Boomer came up to him and put his hand
on the commander's arm.
"Sir," he said, "I wouldn't worry. Troy will make it."
"I hope so," Adama took a breath, "I've outlived enough people in my
family."
"Change your vector heading to three-mark-one-five," a still shaken
Troy radioed, "That's going to take us on a roundabout heading to the
Galactica----"
"No," Apollo cut-in, "Not the Galactica. It has to be the Pegasus. I
don't want to face your grandfather yet."
Troy was caught off-guard by the remark, "Dad, how could you know that
Grandfather is still alive?"
"I just know, Boxey," his father's voice seemed to crack slightly from
the strain, "I just know and I can't confront him yet. Besides," his
voice regained a slight measure of control, "You said you were
temporarily attached to the Pegasus anyway. The rulebook says you have
to take me there."
"I guess so," Troy sighed, "Okay, switch to heading five-mark-two-six.
I want us to stay clear of our own attack force that will intercept the
Cylons behind us. I don't want to run the risk of them seeing you
alongside me and getting the wrong idea like I almost did."
"I always told you your given name wasn't so bad after all," Apollo
couldn't resist putting in.
For the first time, Troy felt himself chuckling. If there was any
reason to doubt the truth of what he'd been hearing, it had all been
swept aside.
"Why are you on the Pegasus anyway?"
"Long and complicated story, Dad," Troy's voice grew flat, "And like
you said, the details can wait until we're both safe and secure."
Just then, the sound of the blips on his scanner seemed to pick up in
intensity.
"Frack, it looks like they're gaining on us."
"And I know why," Apollo's voice was grim, "They've all switched to
suicide mode. That means burning their reserve tanks for extra speed."
"Why would they be in suicide mode?"
"Because they don't have a home to go back to, Boxey," Apollo felt his
heart start to pound faster as he checked the scanner again, "Before I
left the task force, I gave them a going-away present. I sabotaged the
reactor core systems control for all four basestars. They've all blown
up and are gone now."
The wide-eyed shock returned to Troy, although not as great as it had
been when he'd first heard Apollo speak his name.
"Dad," he said, "I have a feeling that you and I aren't going to sleep
for the better part of a sectar when we get back."
Suddenly, the first blast of laser fire from being caught their
attention.
"Guess I should have said if," Troy sucked in his breath as he
clutched the turbo control tighter.
"We'll make it son," Apollo said with determination as he tried to
block out the memory of Zac from his mind and looked upward, "We have to.
I've got a favor that's owed me from someone."
Not far ahead, the squadrons from both battlestars wasted little time
in hooking up with each other to coordinate their intercept of the attack
force.
"Attack force outnumbers us three-to-two in overall strength," the
Galactica's senior pilot, Major Dietra said, "But those were odds we
could always handle. Shouldn't be too difficult here."
"Not for us either," this came from Captain Angus, strike commander of
the Pegasus group.
"Captain Angus?" one of the other Pegasus flyer chimed in, "My scanner
just picked up our deep patrol flight. He's got the lead echelon of
Cylons almost on top of him, and there's one fighter already on his
exhaust pipe."
"Let's give him some assistance," Angus said as he and several other
Pegasus flyers went into a roll pattern and moved away to help out their
fellow pilot.
"About four or five have broken off from the lead attack group and are
sticking with us," Apollo said as he felt the shock wave of another burst
of Cylon laser fire, "I think the rest are proceeding on the main heading
for the Fleet."
"Can you fire that thing and fly it solo?" a note of alarm entered
Troy's voice.
"Looks as though I'm going to have to," Apollo kept his eye on the
scanner, "Looks as though I'm going to have to."
Apollo banked the Cylon fighter and slowly turned himself around. He
could see four fighters headed toward him.
"Boxey, hit your reverse thruster and we can take them out together!"
"Executing!" his son shouted as he pulled his fighter into a reverse
mode and came up alongside his father.
"Now!"
Together, one Colonial viper and one Cylon fighter opened a massive
burst of laser fire on the approaching fighters. Apollo got the lead one
while Troy took care of the second and fourth with two quick shots. The
third one though, escaped the barrage and moved past to assume an attack
mode from behind them.
Once again, Apollo and Troy found themselves on the defensive.
They were flying alongside each other when a burst of fire caught the
underside of Troy's vipers.
"Frack, I lost my high engine!"
Apollo felt the hair of his head and beard stand on end. That was
exactly what had happened to Zac, long ago.
He knew he couldn't perform a slow banking maneuver in time to get
behind the Cylon fighter before it would have a chance to take his son
out completely.
And while he'd mentally trained himself to fly a Cylon fighter solo,
one thing he had not counted on was a need for using the reverse
thrusters. And using them was one thing that required two pilots without
exception.
If he was to save Troy, there was only one thing he could do.
He slowly maneuvered himself to the left so that he was directly in
back of Troy's viper. In effect, he had chosen to block the Cylon
fighter from taking a shot at his son.
But he also knew that meant exposing himself.
"Dad?" an alarmed Troy blurted as soon as he realized what was being
done.
"Just sit tight," Apollo clenched his teeth. If it was the only way
to save Boxey, then so be it. He was prepared for anything.
What he was not prepared for, was the sudden emergence of five vipers
into the scene, followed by a blast that took out the Cylon fighter
chasing them.
"What the---"
"Captain Troy, this is Silver Spar group ready to give you some
assistance," Angus' voice crackled.
The relief Apollo and Troy both felt quickly faded as they both
realized what could happen next.
"Tell them not to fire on me, Boxey!" Apollo shouted.
"I will," Troy felt the panic rise, "Angus, thanks for the help but
hold your fire on that last Cylon fighter! I repeat, hold your fire on
the last Cylon fighter, he's with me!"
"What do you mean with you?" Angus frowned as he and the rest of the
Pegasus flyers moved into position behind Apollo's Cylon fighter,
"Explain."
"Not now!" Troy shouted, "Not now! Just give us some escort back to
the Pegasus."
"Captain," the skepticism was thick in Angus' voice, "You'll forgive
me if I don't find that sufficient. I'll provide escort, but who the
frack is flying the fighter?"
"An escaped prisoner from the task force," Troy said, thinking of
nothing else he could say at that point, "It's not a trap damn it, he's
on the level."
"Looked as though he was just about ready to take you out."
"That wasn't it at all! Damn you Angus, shut up and lead us back in,
the prisoner has to see Cain immediately!"
"All right," Angus said as if in resignation, "All right. The rest of
you guys go back and hook up with the other squadrons. I'll provide
escort," his voice then rose, "But if your friend the 'prisoner' is
listening in, tell him that if he thinks of pulling any kind of false
moves I'll blow his ass out of the stars."
"He understands completely," Troy said, "Isn't that right, sir?"
"Completely," Apollo mumbled as he assumed a position in the middle
between Troy and Angus.
By the time the other Pegasus flyers had rejoined their colleagues and
Dietra's group from the Galactica, the main Cylon attack force had
already come into view.
"Okay," Dietra said, "Take 'em out!"
The first major battle between humans and Cylons in many yahrens
finally erupted in full force.
Right away, Dietra, who's career in vipers went all the way back to
the Battle of Kobol, knew that their was something a little more daring
about these Cylons.
"They seem ready to put up a better fight than they usually do," she
warned the other pilots, "Watch yourself."
The battle soon fell into a routine of five Cylons for every one
Colonial. That was only one half the normal casualty ratio exchange that
Colonial flyers were accustomed to for success.
Frack, Dietra thought. It looks as though we're a tad rusty. But
then again, could that be much of a surprise, considering that all of the
Pegasus flyers were veterans of more than thirty yahrens, while none of
the Galactica pilots had been in sustained combat for ten yahrens.
Amidst the dogfights going around, she suddenly noticed an echelon of
ten Cylon fighters streak past.
"Galactica this is Red Leader," she radioed, "Prepare the Fleet for
attack. More of them are getting through than we'd hoped."
Aboard the Galactica, Boomer felt himself tense as he heard the report
from his ex-wife. Even though he and Dietra had divorced under bitter
terms, he still couldn't help but feel more concern for her safety than
he would have for any other warrior.
"They're not clear yet on which ship they'll be going for," he said to
Adama, "I suggest we not take any chances."
"Agreed," Adama nodded, "Positive shield now. Activate the landing
bay defense screens."
The bridge officer beneath them nodded and activated the switches.
Immediately, the shield doors over the bridge viewing screen that could
withstand the blows from two Cylon suicide hits, slammed shut.
"Get me the Pegasus," Adama ordered.
As soon as Cain was on-screen, the Galactica commander wasted little
time, "Cain, I want you to pull the Pegasus back and assume a protective
screen for the rest of the Fleet. I'm going to have the Galactica lead
those incoming Cylons away."
"Adama---" Cain protested.
"Cain, don't argue. Your ship is the more battle-scarred while we've
had ten yahrens of breathing time since something like this last
happened. We have a better chance of absorbing some major hits than you
would."
Cain let out a frustrated sigh, but he was at a stage where he no
longer had the stomach for challenging an order. Especially not after
what had happened with Troy.
"All right," the Juggernaut said, "We'll stand by with the Fleet."
Just then, Colonel Skyler came into view and seemed to whisper
something to Cain. The Pegasus frowned and then looked back into his
viewing screen directly at his counterpart, "Adama, I just received word
that Troy will be landing here in a few centons. And he says he's
bringing back an escaped prisoner from the task force who's flying a
captured Cylon fighter."
"What?" Adama frowned as he felt the Galactica pick up speed to move
in on the incoming fighters, "Did he say an escaped prisoner?"
"Yes," Cain nodded, "I know it can't be one of my missing men, because
all of my pilots have always been accounted for as dead or right here on
the Pegasus."
"Well it couldn't be one of ours," Adama said, "We haven't lost a
pilot to the Cylons in ten yahrens."
"That's what I figured. This could be some kind of giant trap we're
looking at, but I've got the landing bay sealed off with armed guards
ready to shoot whoever's on board if it turns out to be some kind of
plant they're trying to use to infiltrate the ship."
"Good thinking," Adama said, "I'll want a status report eventually.
I'll contact you as soon as the present situation is over."
"Good luck, Adama," Cain smiled thinly, "The Lords be with you."
The Juggernaut faded from the screen and Adama resumed his attention
to matters that lay ahead of them as the Galactica continued to pick up
speed.
As Troy's viper neared the Pegasus, he felt the sense of stunned
shock, amazement and disbelief overwhelming him. All along, there had
been no other remote possibility for him to consider but the belief that
his father was dead. To even think for a fraction of a micron that
Apollo could have been alive for all these yahrens had never occurred to
him. It had been something he'd always felt compelled to accept in order
to get on with his life.
And now, the unexpected miracle had happened. But what did it all
mean? Where had he been? What had he done? And if Sheba really knew
what had happened to him, why was she carrying such a horrible guilt
complex inside her when Apollo had in fact been alive?
Questions. An endless stream of questions that he desperately needed
to know all the answers to.
He brought his viper into the landing bay first. Apollo was in
position to follow with Angus bringing up the rear. The Pegasus squadron
commander had wanted to be in a position to blast the Cylon fighter out
of the stars in case it gave the slightest hint of performing a suicide
hit on the landing bay.
Knowing that was exactly what Angus was thinking, chiefly because he
would have done the same thing in his position, Apollo kept himself calm
and collected as he brought the Cylon fighter in on a straight, normal
heading.
As soon as he brought it to a stop, he almost fell out of his seat and
collapsed to the floor from exhaustion and relief.
After sixteen yahrens, Captain Apollo had returned home.
"We count at least twelve Cylon fighters that made it through the
defense perimeter, Commander," Dietra radioed, "Can you withstand that
much?"
"So long as those fighters aren't packed with solonite, we can handle
anything, Major," Adama replied, "Just finish taking care of the ones
that haven't gotten through your perimeter."
"Yes sir."
Adama and Boomer moved over to the bridge officer's station. For only
a brief instant, Boomer and Adama realized that this was the first major
battle they had experienced without seeing Omega manning the bridge
officer's console.
"Enemy fighters closing. Thirty microns."
"Activate laser turrets," Adama rubbed his chin to relieve some of the
rising anxiousness he was feeling.
"Twenty microns and closing."
"I think our tactic's working," Boomer noted, "They're all going for
us. Looks as though the Fleet's safe."
"Thank God the Pegasus is here or I wouldn't be able to consider a
tactic like this," Adama grunted, "Let's hope there aren't any other
Cylons lying in wait after this attack."
"Ten microns and closing."
For several long minutes, Apollo didn't feel the strength to get up
and open the hatch. As anxious as he was to get out of the fighter,
there was also a part of him that was genuinely apprehensive of coming
face-to-face with his fellow humans from the Fleet again.
What was he supposed to do? he thought. Did he have the nerve or
strength to admit who he was? He was certain that no one would recognize
him on sight after all this time so he could conceivably get by without
revealing his identity to anyone else.
But if he took the other option, and revealed himself, then what was
his explanation going to be?
He suddenly heard a loud pounding on the hatch door from outside.
"Open up!" he heard an angry voice, "Whoever you are, open up or we blow
our way in!"
Apollo warily flicked the switch that opened the hatch, but he still
didn't get up.
As soon as it was open, several Pegasus security guards dashed inside
with laser pistols at the ready.
Right behind them was Troy, who had wasted little time getting out of
his viper after it had come to a stop.
"Hold your fire!" he shouted, as soon as he saw the slouched form
sitting in the lead pilot's seat, "I told you, he's human."
Slowly, the security guards lowered their weapons.
"Get out," Troy hissed, "You guys get the frack out. I'll escort him
personally to Cain's quarters."
The force of his words caused them to uneasily nod and they all slowly
made their way back down the ramp.
Troy took two steps forward, and only then did Apollo finally find the
strength to turn around.
Both of them froze at the sight of each other. Apollo was startled to
see how except for a more mature, lined crease along the face that
indicated how much of a seasoned warrior he'd become, his son looked
exactly as he had when he'd last laid eyes on him.
With Troy it was different. The middle-aged man with the thick,
unkempt gray hair and massive gray beard bore no resemblance to the tall,
boyish-looking clean-cut man who had been the only parent he'd had a
chance to grow up with.
But as Troy drew closer and got a chance to see more clearly the deep
green eyes that stared back at him with tears forming, he knew right away
that it was still the same man.
Without giving into histrionics, Apollo found the strength to get up,
and the father-and-son both embraced each other with all the tenderness
and love that they felt at finally seeing each other again.
Three minutes elapsed before Apollo reluctantly let go of his son.
"I wish to God I knew where to begin," he finally spoke for the first
time.
"So do I, Dad," Troy smiled back weakly, "So do I. But I think we'd
better begin by seeing Cain first."
Arm-in-arm in a sign of familial strength, they descended the ramp
together.
"Five microns and closing. Four, three, two, one, zero!"
Adama tightened his grip on the railing as he felt the first explosion
of Cylon fire strike the battlestar's hull.
"Two headed for Alpha Landing Bay."
The commander and the executive officer both felt themselves tensing.
"Landing bay shield works!" the bridge officer grinned up at them,
"Total destruction of first two attacking crafts. Third craft headed for
Beta Bay also destroyed."
"That leaves nine," Adama said, "Keep laser fire constant."
The battlestar was rocked with several more explosions as the bridge
officer kept counting off the number of remaining Cylon fighters.
After more than five centons, the count was down to four ships left.
The bridge officer manning the laser turret suddenly frowned.
"Commander, I've lost track of them. They seem to have broken off."
"Keep looking for them," the commander kept his hand on his chin.
"Wait. Got them again. They seem to have come back together in one
single-file group. They....Holy Frack I think they're sizing up to ram
the bridge! Every one of them!"
"Our bridge shield can only absorb hits from two of them!"
Boomer blurted.
"I know," Adama grimly nodded, "Hard-a-starboard! Give them another
angle to come in on if they ram!"
The battlestar veered off to the right with it's laser turrets still
firing blindly at the approaching fighters. A stray shot managed to get
the first one, but the other three continued on their collision course
path.
The second and third fighters both slammed into the shielding covering
the Galactica's bridge. The fourth one fell short of target and impacted
on the forward most part of the Galactica, still causing an additional
violent shockwave to go through.
Thanks to the safety features that had been developed by the
Galactica's scientific team over the yahrens, the suicide hits did not
cause any major fires to break out throughout the ship. The damage
caused by the fighters was confined solely to enormous shock waves. But
even these could be as deadly and damaging as a flash-fire could.
The brunt of the shockwaves were felt on the bridge. The shielding
covering the view screen held in place but still split in two sections
and the jolt knocked many of the crewmembers off their feet. On the
upper deck, Boomer felt himself nearly get thrown over the railing to the
lower decks but he managed to keep his grip on the railing and was able
to pull himself back.
The executive officer looked back and saw that Adama had stumbled back
across the deck to the other side of the railing. Just as the
commander straightened himself, the force of the last fighter's impact
rumbled through, causing some sparks to fly from some of the consoles but
causing no serious damage.
Adama though, had not been prepared for it. He had taken his hand off
the railing in an effort to get back to the other side where Boomer was.
With nothing to hold on to when the shockwave rumbled through, Adama
lost his balance and stumbled backward, finally tumbling over the railing
to the lower deck ten feet below.
"Commander!" Boomer shouted in horror as he dashed across to the other
side and looked down.
The commander was sprawled out on the floor, eyes open and looking up
with a totally vacant, unconscious expression. He made no movement at
all.
"Keep me advised on what's happening aboard the Galactica, Colonel,"
Cain said as he then shut off the intercom and settled back in his chair.
Barely a moment later, the door slid open and Troy entered, followed by a
tired-looking, middle-aged bearded man who was totally unfamiliar to
Cain.
"Commander Cain," Troy said, "I'd like to present to you the prisoner
of war from the Cylon base ship. I believe he has something he'd like to
tell you about the task force that's been monitoring us."
"Hold it," the Juggernaut held up a hand, "Before I listen to anything
from this man, Captain, I think some identification is in order."
"What'd I tell you?" Apollo turned to his son and chuckled without
mirth and then looked back at Cain, "Commander Cain, I think in order for
you to believe who I am, a sonic razor and trimmer would be most in
order."
"Meaning I'd recognize you without all that hair?" a note of
incredulity entered Cain's voice, "Why don't we cut through the
felgercarb and just get to the point. You'll have plenty of time to
shave that beard off later if that's what you feel like."
"No sir, I must insist on the razor and trimmer first, or else we
won't be getting anywhere in what I have to report."
An edge of exasperation entered Cain's voice as he impatiently waved
his hand, "All right, in the turbowash through that door. You'll find
them on the water dispensary."
"Thank you sir," Apollo disappeared into the next room.
As soon as they were alone, Troy turned his attention back to Cain,
"What's going on with the Galactica?"
"She's taking care of all the incoming Cylons that got through the
viper intercept perimeter," Cain folded his arms, "Good thing you were on
deep patrol at the time, Captain, or more of them would have been in a
position to cause havoc for the entire Fleet."
"That isn't the only reason why I'm glad I was on deep patrol, sir."
"Oh?"
"I wouldn't have encountered our....guest. And I think that any other
warrior that might have encountered him would have done something very
foolhardy and rash."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I'm the only pilot he could have convinced as to who he is."
"Well just who is he, Captain?" Cain's impatience increased, "He's not
one of my missing pilots, and the Galactica says they haven't lost anyone
over the last ten yahrens."
"You should have asked for further back than that, sir."
"What?" the Juggernaut frowned.
Before Troy could say anything further, the turbowash door slid open
and Apollo emerged, totally clean shaven for the first time in sixteen
yahrens, and with his hair trimmed back to something close to what it had
once looked like. Right away, his son could tell that the shave and
haircut made an enormous difference. This way, his father resembled what
he would have expected him to look like after sixteen yahrens.
"Captain Apollo of the Galactica, sir," Apollo weakly saluted,
"Officially lost in action and presumed dead sixteen yahrens ago."
Cain's jaw fell open slightly as he stared in dumbfounded amazement at
the man he now recognized, even though he had only known him form that
one occasion more than thirty yahrens ago.
"Of course," he whispered under his breath, "Of course. Why didn't I
think it was possible that...." he broke off and got to his feet,
"Captain Apollo, you can imagine that this is quite a shock, but
nonetheless a pleasant shock to see you actually alive. And...I'm sure
there are some other people who will be glad to know that as well, but,"
professional discipline now took over his tone and bearing, "But there
are matters of professional interest that must take precedence before any
personal matters are discussed. The first thing I need information on is
that task force you just escaped from."
"There's no need to worry about that, sir," Apollo said with total
understanding over why Cain was not getting to a subject close to both of
them, "Before I left, I took the liberty of sabotaging the reactor
control systems of all four baseships. They're all gone now. When the
last of these fighters they sent out are dealt with, there won't be a
Cylon within fifteen thousand light years of us."
The stunned amazement on the Pegasus commander's face only deepened,
"They're all destroyed?"
"All destroyed," Apollo nodded.
Cain's eyes widened in disbelief, "How did you accomplish that all by
yourself?"
"That is a very long and complicated story, sir. I may need some time
before I can fully explain that. Suffice to say, I am telling the truth
about the Cylon task force. It's gone."
The Juggernaut nodded, "Yes, that would tie-in with the explosion we
registered in that one star system, but----" Cain was then cut-off by the
sound of the intercom, "Yes, Colonel?"
"Sir, we've just received word from the Galactica. She took some
suicide hits to the bridge but was able to escape without too much major
damage. The last of the Cylons are gone and our vipers should be
returning within twenty centons."
"That's good," Cain said with relief as he cast a glance at Apollo,
"And I think Colonel, you should tell Adama that he has to get in touch
with me as soon as possible."
Apollo almost felt his body tense. He was already a maze of
conflicting emotions on how he could handle telling Boxey and now Cain
about what had happened. He still wasn't sure if he felt up to facing
his father again.
There was an awkward, uneasy silence from the other end before Skyler
finally spoke again, "Ah, Commander, I have some bad news to report about
Commander Adama. He, ah...."
"He what?" Cain's face contorted, "What happened?"
A sad sigh emitted from the Pegasus executive officer, "Commander
Adama was injured in the attack. Severe fall and head injury trauma.
The...Galactica says his chance for survival is not good."
"Oh God," Cain whispered in horror as he settled back in his chair,
"Oh God, that's....." he shook his head to fight off the tide of emotion
he was feeling, and then forced himself to look at Apollo and Troy.
Adama's son and grandson had expressions of horror and disbelief much
deeper than his own could ever be.
"Skyler," Cain finally resumed, "Have a shuttle ready to take Captain
Troy and our guest over to the Galactica."
"Yes sir."
The Juggernaut switched off the intercom, stood up and came out to
where a stunned Apollo was standing.
"The rest of this can wait," Cain said gently, "Even those matters of
personal concern to me. You get yourself over to the Galactica and be
with him."
"Thank you sir," Apollo was barely able to crack his words out.
As Troy led Apollo out with his arm around him, the warrior who'd been
lost for sixteen yahrens didn't bother fighting back his emotions.
Before the door closed, Cain could already hear Apollo's quiet sobbing.
"Unbelievable," was all the Juggernaut could say, "Simply
unbelievable."
Already, he knew that in spite of Apollo's sudden and miraculous
return, it would still be a while before matters pertaining to Sheba
could be dealt with.
Chapter Sixteen
It took the shuttle more than ten centons to reach the Galactica.
Throughout the flight, neither Troy nor Apollo had the stomach to say
anything. Too many things were happening much too fast for the both of
them to keep up with.
By the time the shuttle had landed, Apollo had regained some measure
of control of his emotions and he and Troy wasted little time in exiting
the shuttle and proceeding to the turbo lift that would take them to the
Life Station deck.
They got off and walked down the corridor as fast as they could go.
And before they reached the Life Station, Apollo froze when he saw two
familiar faces from the past coming from the opposite direction. Two
dark-skinned men, one wearing council robes instead of the bridge uniform
Apollo remembered, the other wearing a bridge uniform instead of a flight
uniform.
"Boomer," Apollo spoke up, "Colonel Tigh."
The two men stopped in their tracks, and despite their complexions,
both looked as though they were on the verge of turning white from shock.
"It's no joke gentleman," Troy stepped forward, "You're not seeing a
ghost. My father is alive and well and escaped from the Cylons. He
needs to see the Commander immediately."
Neither Boomer nor Tigh found themselves able to say a word.
"Colonel," Troy came up to him and shook him slightly, "You just came
from there didn't you? How is he?"
But the former and present executive officer were still silent, with
their eyes locked on Apollo.
"Answer me damn it!" Troy shook Boomer a little more vigorously.
"Let him alone, Boxey," Apollo gently admonished, "Don't put any more
of a strain on them then we already have. Let's just get going. As soon
as I'm out of the Life Station, there's a lot I need to talk to the two
of you about."
The two of them moved off, leaving the former and present executive
officer frozen in their positions.
Tigh was the one who finally summoned the strength to speak,
"Suddenly, I don't feel like drowning my sorrows with a drink in the
Officers Club."
"Neither do I," Boomer said. They both turned around back toward the
Life Station.
When Apollo and Troy both entered, they saw two med-techs and the
Deputy Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Sextus grimly hunched over the life pod
where Adama lay.
"Dr. Sextus," Troy came up to them, "How is he?"
The young doctor, who was only twenty-seven, looked up with a grave
expression, "Not good, Captain. The fall and head injury is far more
serious for a man his age than it would be for a younger person."
"Will he live? Can he live?"
Sextus sighed, "I'm sorry Troy. I can keep him alive for awhile, but
he'll never function normally again. There's just nothing I can do. His
age is his worst enemy."
"Doesn't Cassiopeia still run things here?" Apollo clenched his teeth
and whispered to his son.
"She does," Troy whispered back, realizing that another dangerous area
could be opened up if he wasn't careful, "She's on an assignment on
Earth."
Not recognizing Apollo, but hearing everything he'd said, the young
doctor glared at the two of them, "Not even Dr. Cassiopeia could do
anything, sir."
The son and grandson of the commander, looked down at his unconscious
form, trying hard not to lose their composures in front of everyone else.
As they continued to look, the door behind them opened and Boomer and
Tigh entered.
"Apollo?" Boomer cautiously inquired as he put a hand on his shoulder.
Apollo managed to turn around and smiled weakly, "It's good to see you
again. And you too, Colonel Tigh."
"I wish it didn't have to be under these circumstances," Tigh sadly
shook his head, "I mean....Lords of Kobol for you to come back after all
this time and on the same day as....."
"I'm sorry Apollo," Boomer said, "I wish there was something I could
have done---"
"I'm sure it was none of your fault," Apollo said, feeling a sense of
anger and frustration inside him that this had happened before he'd had a
chance to talk to Adama.
As if his son sensed what he was feeling, Troy spoke again to Sextus,
"Is there anyway you can bring him around? Anyway where he could just
talk for a little bit?"
Sextus hesitated slightly.
"Well, is there?" Troy glared at him.
"Yes there is," the young doctor said cautiously, "I could bring him
around for about five centons, but it would only accelerate the rest of
his condition. It could kill him altogether."
Troy looked back at his father, the executive officer, and the council
member who was Adama's best friend. And then he looked back at Sextus
and spoke with all the firmness he could muster.
"Do it," he said, "If the only alternative is a slow death while in a
coma that he wouldn't come out of, than do it."
Again, Sextus hesitated.
"Doctor," Boomer took his arm off Apollo and took a step forward, "You
heard the commander's grandson. Do it."
Sextus finally nodded and motioned two med-techs over. After several
centons of consultation, one of them came up with a specially designed
syringe. He handed it to Sextus, who hesitated for a second before
injecting it into Adama's upper arm.
Another several centons passed and slowly, Adama's eyes came open.
"Boxey?" his words were faint but distinct as he saw his grandson.
"Hello Grandfather," it took a lot of effort for Troy to keep himself
under control, knowing that there was so little time.
"It's good to see you," Adama whispered, "There's so little time, I
know. So little time."
Troy slowly motioned Apollo to come forward so he'd be visible to
Adama.
Apollo looked down at the man who had been more than just a father to
him and tried to keep an even expression, "Father?"
The eyes narrowed slightly and a look of amazement and wonder came
over the commander.
"Father, it's me," Apollo reached down and squeezed the hand that felt
weak, "It's me. I'm alive, and I've finally made it back."
"Apollo?" it sounded as though he could scarcely believe it.
"Yes Father," Apollo tightened his grip, "It's Apollo. I'm alive and
well."
A slow smile came over Adama's face, as the realization hit him.
"Now I know," he whispered, "Now I know why I lived this long. So I
could die knowing I didn't have the shame of outliving all my children."
"You're going to be okay, Father," Apollo didn't let his voice break
but he could still feel the tears welling up in his eyes, "You're going
to be okay."
"No," there was an air of contentment in Adama's voice, "I hear the
Lord calling me to other things, Apollo. My time is finally at hand."
"Not you," Apollo shook his head, "It can't be time now. Not when you
and I have so much to talk about."
"There'll be another time for that, one day, Apollo," the gentle
reassuring sound that Apollo remembered since his earliest memories of
childhood, "This life is never the end for any of us. There always comes
a time when those who've had faith and commitment are rewarded beyond
this life. When that time comes for you, and I know it's not meant for
awhile....I'll be waiting with your mother...and Zac...and Athena...and
Serina."
His voice was growing fainter, and Apollo knew it wouldn't be much
longer.
"Father," he said, "You've been more to me than just a father. You've
been a teacher and counselor and friend. After all this time, I need
your wisdom for guidance more than I've needed it before."
"You....have friends to help you," the reassuring note only increased
even as his voice grew fainter, "Tigh....and Boomer. And Boxey is still
here for you....And of course....Of course, Sheba. She needs you above
all."
As soon as her name was mentioned, Troy promptly fixed his gaze on his
father's face. He seemed to tense slightly, but said nothing.
"You've come back at a time....when there are so many....
opportunities for you, now that we've found Earth."
"Father," Apollo leaned closer, "Do you know what I've been doing for
the last sixteen yahrens?"
Adama seemed to smile, "Not until.....before I came to, just now," he
said, "An old friend....of ours....explained it....so that way I could
let you know."
Apollo wasn't sure he understood what his father was saying. But
then, he looked up and saw, standing off to one side, the white-garbed
form of Starbuck.
His old friend said nothing, but had an expression of pure empathy
that seemed to cause Apollo to relax.
"Don't be ashamed son," Adama said, "I understand everything. None of
it was your fault or Sheba's. Don't let yourself be haunted by the past.
Just....move on with your life. You have...too much left that still
matters."
"I won't," Apollo's voice seemed to take on a calm tone of acceptance,
"I won't, Father. I wouldn't think of letting you down."
"You never have, Apollo," the voice was nearly inaudible, "Not even
with what's gone on. It....was all made to work out."
The Galactica commander took a breath and closed his eyes, "I love
you, son."
"I love you, Father," Apollo kept squeezing his father's hand until he
felt it go limp.
He gently set it down and straightened himself. A hush had come over
everyone in the Life Station, as they all looked on as witnesses to the
death of the man who had safely led humanity across the stars to Earth.
"Oh God," Troy whispered through clenched teeth, "It seems so unfair."
Apollo was looking over at the vision of Starbuck. And then, he saw
forming alongside him, another white-garbed vision.
As soon as he saw his father become distinct and smile at him, Apollo
managed to smile back in final farewell.
And then, both Starbuck and Adama disappeared for the last time.
Some of the people in the room had started to cry, including Troy.
His father reached out and clasped him tightly.
"It's okay," Apollo said reassuringly, "He's just like your mother,
Boxey. His spirit lives forever."
Apollo then let go of Troy and came over to the somber Tigh and
Boomer.
"There'll be time for appropriate honors later," Apollo said, "Right
now, I would advise Commander Cain to come over here for an immediate
consultation. There's a lot of important information that needs to be
shared before we can move on."
"Apollo," Boomer put his hand on his shoulder, "Whatever you say, I'll
do---"
"No Boomer," Apollo shook his head, "I'm not taking charge. You're
the executive officer, if I read your insignia correctly. Command is now
yours."
"Apollo, I---"
"Don't argue, Boomer," Apollo smiled weakly as he marvelled at how
Boomer was still in awe of him after all these yahrens, "Let's just get
to my father's quarters for some serious talking."
Slowly, Apollo, Troy, Tigh and Boomer left the Life Station.
Strangely enough, it was the commander's son who was the most at-ease of
the four.
A centar later, they had all gathered in Adama's quarters, waiting for
Cain to arrive, since Apollo had refused to say anything until the
Pegasus commander was there. They were all seated in chairs forming a
half-circle. The chair behind Adama's desk was empty. Even though it
was now Boomer's right to sit in, the executive officer found that he
didn't have the nerve to think of doing that yet.
Finally, the doors slid open and a somber Cain entered.
"Sit down Commander," Apollo motioned to the one remaining empty seat
they'd set-up.
Cain nodded and took his place, "I went down to the Life Station to
pay my last respects to Adama. Believe me, I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Apollo sounded a reassuring note, "Like the Book of the
Word says about the faithful servant of the Lord, 'I have fought the good
fight, and I have kept the faith.' That's his finest epitaph."
There was a sense of amazement among the others that Apollo was taking
it easiest of all of them.
"Now to business," Apollo leaned forward, "The first question. Where
have I been, and what have I been doing."
"No," Cain spoke up.
Apollo looked over and frowned.
"The first question Captain, is what happened to you sixteen yahrens
ago, when you disappeared. That's the first question I want an answer
to."
Apollo's frown deepened, "But I thought...." he broke off, and
straightened himself, "Didn't Sheba ever tell you?"
"Why would you think she would have?"
"But..." a look of concern and alarm came over him, "But I thought she
was still alive?"
"Oh she's alive," Cain nodded, "But she never exactly had a chance to
tell us the story of what happened to you."
"What do you mean?"
Cain looked over at Troy, "Do I tell him, or would you like to do the
honors, Captain Troy?"
"I'll do it," Troy sighed, "I'll do it. Dad, there are some things
you have to know about Sheba."
And for the next centar, it was Troy who controlled the conversation
with occasional sidebar comments from Cain. Apollo's expression
contorted into stunned disbelief and shock as he heard the account of
Sheba's breakdown. Of the accidental death of Bojay. Of the sixteen
long yahrens of silent isolation in the Nuthouse. Of the treatment on
Earth that had resulted in only a partial breakthrough up to this point.
Throughout the course of the narrative, Apollo found himself looking
up at the ceiling occasionally and silently asking the same question over
and over again. Damn you Starbuck, why didn't you tell me that? Why
didn't you tell me about what had happened to her?
Right away though, he was sure he knew the answer to that question.
If he'd known that, he couldn't have been counted on for any of the tasks
he had been asked to perform.
"So far, the only person she's opened up to, is Cassiopeia," Cain
picked up the narrative, as soon as Troy had finished, "She won't betray
that confidence yet, but she did tell me that she thinks Sheba's carrying
an enormous load of guilt inside her even now. That whatever happened to
you was her fault alone, and that she's been afraid to tell Troy and
Adama because she feared that they'd hate her if the truth ever came
out."
"Oh God," Apollo finally spoke for the first time as he lowered his
head, "Oh God."
"Now the question I have Captain Apollo, even before you go into all
the details, is this," the Juggernaut paused as if for effect, "Is there
a legitimate basis for my daughter's guilt, and her fears over how others
might react to the truth?"
"No," Apollo looked him in the eye and spoke with the rapidity of a
laser shot, "No, by all the Lords no. It wasn't her fault, none of it
was."
There was a silence in the room as Cain continued to look at Apollo.
And then, he shifted his gaze briefly to Troy, who seemed to have an
expression of shame and regret.
"You mean that, Apollo?" Cain asked delicately, "You're not simply
saying that for my benefit, are you?"
"Absolutely not!" Apollo's voice rose, "Absolutely not!"
"Very well," the Juggernaut settled back in his chair, "I think all of
us are now ready to hear your story."
"But where is she, when can I----"
"Later," Cain's voice dropped to a quiet whisper, but it was still
quite firm, "There's time for that later. Now let's hear the simple,
unadulterated truth."
Apollo took a deep breath, "I suggest all of you send up for bottles
of the stiffest drinks in the Officer's Club," he said, "You're all going
to need it."
And for the next twelve centars, it was Apollo who would give them a
narrative of events that none of the four other men present would ever
forget.
Far away in the Sirius system that only hours before had known the
presence of an entire Cylon task force of four basestars, there was only
dead silence and emptiness. All trace of the mighty armada that had lain
in wait for a day that had never come, had been completely eradicated.
All except one. On the second planet of the star system, a world of
swirling clouds of gas poisonous to human existence, a lone shuttle lay
silently parked on the surface. Inside the craft, was the sole survivor
of the task force.
As he had done for hours, Lucifer tried to find some way of coming to
terms with the situation as it now existed, utilizing every part of his
advanced circuitry to determine what would happen next.
What a price he had paid for his miscalculation, he thought over and
over. He had never allowed himself to believe that any human mind was
capable of the cunning deception Apollo had pulled off. For too many
yahrens, exposure to the likes of Baltar had convinced him that
emotionalism, not careful rationalism lay at the heart of every human
decision, thus making them a thoroughly inferior species.
If there was one thing he could be grateful for, it was that he had
gone to the trouble of eavesdropping on the conversation Apollo had with
Baltar. At least knowing what was said there, made it easier for him to
fully digest the possibilities of what lay ahead.
The obvious facts facing the Cylon Empire was a task force of four
baseships destroyed, which amounted to more than one-third of the entire
Cylons arsenal. Along with that, there were new, unexpected revolts
taking place back in the former twelve worlds of the colonies that were
causing major losses to Cylon installations there.
Without that knowledge, Lucifer would have allowed himself to have too
much confidence in one outcome. That a new task force under Baltar's
command would be dispatched across the stars to rescue him and resume the
hunt of the Colonial Fleet. Only this time, there would be no waiting
for the discovery of Earth.
But the information he now possessed over the new problems facing the
Cylon Empire closer to home changed all that.
Clearly, the Imperious Leader was in deep trouble now that revolts had
taken place on planets that had been supposedly subdued long ago. He
conceivably faced a major backlash from the other IL's and command
centurions within his Inner Council on the home planet, as well as those
who commanded the other ships in the Cylon Fleet (including, Lords forbid
it, that incompetent Spektor!) And once it became clear that the
disappearance of the task force stalking the Colonial Fleet had happened,
the Leader would be in even more trouble since his complete trust in
Apollo's genuineness had been well-known to all the Cylons in the Empire.
If the revolts turned out to be more serious than any Cylon could
imagine, than he could never envision the Leader wasting a new task force
to come this far out into space on a journey that would take a minimum of
five yahrens just to get back to this last position. With no guarantee
whatsoever that the scent could be picked up again, and with the reality
of revolt in the colonies facing them, it would be foolhardy to waste so
many ships by sending them all the way across to the other end of the
galaxy.
He could envision Baltar demanding for a chance at revenge on the
Fleet, but he suspected that the Leader was still capable of finding a
way around Baltar's demands. He could envision Imperious Leader buying
Baltar off with a bribe of power far greater than his old position of
task force commander. Perhaps even a place by the Leader's side on the
home planet where Baltar could in effect become the de facto Leader
himself.
Yes, Lucifer thought. He could envision that. And once Baltar had
power like that, why would he have any reason for sending out ships on a
wild-goose-chase of "revenge." No matter what he'd heard Baltar say to
Apollo, he knew the human traitor well-enough to know that in the final
analysis, the only thing that mattered for him was pure power.
If he really bothered to compute the odds as they stood, they were
heavily in favor of the outcome that no Cylon would ever come out this
way again. At least, not within the lifetime of anyone in the Fleet, and
probably not even the lives of their grandchildren's grandchildren.
So what was there left for him to do? All alone and cut-off on this
isolated planet with no place to go.
Perhaps he could eventually exercise the gift IL Cylons had of going
into a quiet shutdown mode of permanent, blissful meditation, where they
were able to draw from their memory banks and experience the gift that
had once been a feature of the second-brain reptile Cylons they had been
modelled after.
But somehow, he didn't feel ready for that just yet.
"Feeling lonely?"
Lucifer turned around and was startled to see an image of someone he
had only met once, a long time ago when that person had been taken
prisoner aboard Baltar's baseship.
"Lieutenant Starbuck?" the IL Cylon inquired with disbelief.
"Not in the flesh, but correct," Starbuck grinned, "I had a feeling
you'd be hungry for some conversation. Even with the image of a lowly
human as I once was."
"Hmmmm," Lucifer looked him over, "You have evolved on to something
higher, I would presume?"
"In a manner of speaking," the image of Starbuck came over and sat
down, "But I still retain my basic human outlook that so infuriates
Cylons in general."
"Have you come from whatever realm you belong to now just to taunt
me?"
"Not a bit," Starbuck said, "I kind of felt sorry for you."
"For me?" Lucifer wasn't buying it, "Compassion on your part for a
Cylon?"
"You wouldn't be the first one," Starbuck said as the grin faded.
"What do you plan to do?"
"I thought we might chat for a bit," he said, "Maybe resume that
pyramid game we never got to finish when I was a prisoner on your
baseship. And as we're doing that, you might learn some things about
humans that you Cylons have never had a chance to give much consideration
to."
"Such as?"
"All in good time," Starbuck said, "When we're done and you go into
your meditative state, you'll have some more things for your wonderful
brain to meditate about, when it comes to understanding humans, and the
irrationality of the whole Cylon way of things," he paused slightly,
"Maybe if you're ever rescued in a hundred or a thousand yahrens from
now, you'll have a whole new outlook on things."
"You are too much of an optimist, Lieutenant."
"Am I?" Starbuck flashed a characteristic smirk and tossed a pack of
real pyramid cards on the console separating the two of them, "Let's see
how much you remember from what I tried to teach you. Deal."
Reckoning
"There it is," Troy said aloud as the shuttle drew closer, "Earth."
Apollo stepped forward and looked out the window at the shining blue
planet that loomed closer in their field of vision.
"It looks so beautiful," he said, "Is it really so primitive?"
"Totally," Cain said from his position toward the back, "Totally."
Apollo made his way back to the Juggernaut, "When we get there, will
she want to see me?"
"I wish I knew the answer to that," Cain shrugged, "That depends on
how much she thinks you hate her for what happened with Iblis."
"I don't," Apollo settled next to him, "I love her. I love her more
than anything I have left in this universe. I did what I did because I
had to save her from something worse than what Iblis forced me to do."
"I believe you," Cain said, "That was very noble of you, Apollo.
Though I find it a little hard to believe that you never harbored any
bitterness toward her at one time."
Apollo smiled mirthlessly and let out a grunt, "I might have tried to
once, but I kept thinking that I loved her too much to let myself do
that. It...was a lot easier for me to blame God and Fate for a long time
over my predicament instead."
He absently looked off into the distance at the ever-increasing shape
of Earth in the window, "I know it was a moment of weakness for her that
made her reach out to Iblis and fall under his spell. But frack, would
anyone else in the position she was in have been any stronger? When
you're a warrior it's easy to think of the danger of getting killed by
laser fire when you're in your viper. Whoever thinks about being
suspended two hundred feet above a canyon with only one hand on a branch
sticking out from the side of a cliff as the dividing line between life
and death?"
Cain didn't respond, knowing it was a rhetorical question. As did
Troy, who listened in with fascination, and troubled feelings of guilt
for the things he had been thinking about Sheba during the time prior to
his father's return.
"No matter what happens," Cain resumed as he changed the subject, "Do
you still plan on staying on Earth as the permanent liaison with Dr.
Mortinson and the other scientists?"
"It's the only option for me," Apollo said flatly.
"Command of the Galactica and the entire Fleet would be yours for the
asking, Apollo," Cain mused as he absently fingered his swagger stick,
"Boomer and Tigh were ready to give it to you. And I know I wouldn't
bother to stand in your way, seniority notwithstanding."
"The agreement we reached is the only way," Apollo said, "Tigh is the
new Council President, Boomer is the new commander of the Galactica and
you are the new Fleet Commander. That's how it has to be. No one apart
from you three and Troy and a handful of others can ever know that I'm
still alive. Irregardless of how things have turned out, Colonial law is
still quite clear on treason. What I did to make amends was good for
absolution from God, not from Colonial Justice."
"It would be all too easy for your return to be announced and to just
say that you were a prisoner."
Apollo looked at him and chuckled, "Favoritism for Commander Adama's
son? The standards were not so charitable for that Councilman....what
was his name?"
"Councilman Xavier," Cain said with disgust as the memory of the
renegade who'd tried to destroy the Pegasus came back to him, "And
there's no comparison because Xavier was a madman and a lunatic."
"Be that as it may, a bad precedent can not be set, if the Fleet is to
remain together as a cohesive unit waiting for the day of settlement on
Earth to come," Apollo resumed looking ahead, "I can't be a part of the
Fleet anymore. If I have anything left to accomplish in my life, I'm
sure it lies somewhere on Earth."
"You won't disappear from us completely will you?" Cain gentle
inquired, "After all, if things work out, I know I'll want to visit from
time to time. As will Troy and those who do know."
"And I'll welcome it always," Apollo smiled, "Just don't tell them
it's me you're visiting."
"Of course," Cain returned it as Apollo got up from his chair and made
his way up to the front, settling next to his son.
"Won't be much longer," Troy said aloud, "It's going to be a while
before we get to our final destination though. When I contacted Dillon
and told him we were coming, he said he needed seven centars to get down
to our normal hiding location for the shuttle. There's no place isolated
enough where he and Cassiopeia and Sheba are staying."
"I don't mind," his father sighed, "After all these yahrens, what's
another seven centars?"
Troy looked over at him with an anguished look, "Dad, before we get
there, I have to tell you something."
"About all those terrible thoughts you were having about Sheba?"
again, Apollo found himself chuckling without mirth, "Don't let it bother
you, son."
"I can't help it," Troy said, "Dad, I never had the chance to tell you
this during all the yahrens when you and Sheba were lovers and you kept
putting off a decision on asking her to get sealed to you. I never
looked on Sheba during all those yahrens of growing up as in intruder, or
as someone trying to usurp the place Mother had in my heart. I loved her
in a way that I could love no other woman as a possible new mother for
me, but I spent my whole childhood and adolescence without finding the
guts to tell you that. And if I'd known that my feelings were one reason
why you kept putting off getting sealed, I'd have said something."
Apollo looked back at his son and almost wished he could reach out and
run his hand through his hair like he'd used to so many times when Boxey
had been a little boy.
But his son wasn't a little boy anymore. He was a man and a fine
warrior in his own right, and he had to treat him that way and think of
him that way.
"Troy," it was the first time that Apollo had addressed him by his new
name since his return, "From where I just came from, I learned a lot of
lessons about not brooding over the might-have-beens of life. All the
cosmic guessing games we keep playing over lost opportunities don't mean
a thing. The way things happen, are the way they were ultimately meant
to happen for a special reason that God ultimately has a way of working
out for the better of all of us. And as much as I wish I'd found the
strength to overcome my own feelings a long time ago, I'm not going to
spend any time looking back with regrets. I'm...." he briefly trailed
off and looked out the window, "I'm just glad she's still alive. The
only thing I want to do is move on. And you should too."
Troy let out a sigh and finally nodded, "I'll remember that Dad," he
said, "I know Grandfather would have felt the same way. I won't let
either of you down."
"I know you won't," Apollo's smile brightened, "I'm already proud of
you, Troy."
The shuttle drew closer and closer until it finally pierced the
planet's atmosphere in preparation for its landing in the California
desert.
When they landed, Dillon was waiting after a long drive down the
California coast from Carmel. Like the others, he too was shocked when
he first saw Apollo. The long eight hour drive back though, with two
stops for meals, gave Troy and Cain more than enough time for them to
explain everything to their fellow warrior.
By the time the rental car pulled into the driveway of Dr. Mortinson's
summer house, Dillon's knowledge of the situation was equal to theirs.
"So how do we handle this?" the blonde lieutenant delicately asked.
"Very gently," Cain said as he got out of the car first, "Very
gently."
The front door of the house opened and a somewhat exuberant Cassiopeia
emerged to greet them,
"Cassie, it's good to see you again," Cain smiled as they embraced in
a way that almost seemed slightly more than just merely friendly.
"I'm so glad you're finally back, Cain," the Chief Medical Officer
seemed more upbeat than she'd been the last time they'd talked, "I've
been doing a lot of talking with Sheba since you left. I think she's
ready to talk to you about the whole thing."
"That's not necessary, Cassie," Cain smiled, "None of that matters
anymore."
"What?" Cassiopeia frowned.
Cain motioned back to the car, and the Chief Medical Officer's jaw
fell open in stunned amazement as she saw Apollo emerge from the car. He
came up to her and gave her a friendly hug.
"Hi Cassiopeia," Apollo said warmly, "They told me what you've been
doing for Sheba. Thanks."
"My God," she whispered, "I knew you were still alive, but the idea
that this could happen...."
"I know," Apollo sighed, "I know. The only question I have though, is
will she be willing to see me?"
"That depends on you, Apollo," Cassiopeia said, "Completely on you and
how you feel."
Apollo sighed, "I love her, Cassiopeia. That's the only thing I
feel."
"Then go," she motioned toward the front door, "Go in there. She's on
the back porch looking out at the ocean."
He smiled and gave her another quick hug and then disappeared inside
the house. At the same time, Dillon and Troy got out of the car and made
their way up to where Cain and Cassiopeia were standing.
"Say Cassiopeia," Dillon said, "It occurs to me, that maybe the four
of us ought to...." he let his words suggestively trail off.
"Yeah," Troy joined in, "Are there any good suggestions about...." he
too trailed off in the same tone of voice.
"Yes," the Chief Medical Officer nodded as she caught on, "Cain,
there's a really great restaurant in Carmel that sells delicious seafood.
It'll totally remind you of those little intimate places the Gemonese
coast was famous for."
"Sounds interesting," Cain said, "I think Dillon drove me by it the
last time I was here. I'd love to check it out."
And with that, the four of them got into the car, which Dillon then
started up for the drive into town.
Apollo silently ventured with great caution and trepidation inside the
house. It was only a few seconds of his eyes darting about before he saw
her, through the screen door sitting on the porch outside. Her back was
to him, and she was looking out to sea, as had been her custom ever since
her arrival in Carmel.
He took his steps toward her slowly, as the torrent of emotions went
through his heart, soul and body. All of them full of love and passion
for the woman he had been so cruelly parted from long ago.
Ten feet from the door he stopped and tried to keep himself from being
overcome with emotion. He wanted his first words to be calm, gentle and
reassuring.
He took a deep breath and said a prayer asking for strength as he
gently slid open the screen door.
"Daddy?" Sheba's head craned slightly upward as she heard the sound of
the door open, "Are you back?"
Apollo took another breath as he tried to form the words he'd wanted
to say. But he was feeling his body go completely numb from nervous
tension, and with that, the words were getting stuck in his throat.
"Daddy?" she repeated as she slowly turned herself around.
And then she froze at what she saw.
Apollo bit his lip and somewhat awkwardly took a step toward her,
"Hello Sheba," he barely got his words out.
"Oh my God," she whispered as she slowly rose from her chair.
He took another step toward her, staring intently at the face that had
captivated him from the micron he'd first seen it as a holographic image
in her father's quarters on the Pegasus. It might have had a few lines
under the eyes, and there might have been a sunken quality to her
expression after more than sixteen yahrens of a dark cell, but to Apollo
she was as radiantly beautiful as he'd always remembered her.
An eternity seemed to pass with the two of them just looking at each
other. Both of them wishing they could say a million things, yet both
unable to find the strength to say anything.
Finally, it was Apollo who found the strength to speak first, "Sheba,"
he said, "They told me everything about what happened and what you've
been thinking. Before we say anything else to each other, I have to tell
you this to your face. You've never had a single thing to blame yourself
about because of what happened to me. I did what I had to do to save you
from something far worse than my becoming a traitor, and if I had the
same choice, I'd do it again in a micron. I---" he took a breath, "I
still love you."
He could see the tears streaming down her cheeks as she suddenly ran
to him, throwing her arms around him and burying her head on his
shoulder, sobbing quietly in a mixture of relief, absolution and joy.
"It's okay," Apollo whispered as he held her in her arms and stroked
her long brown hair, "It's okay. It's all over and," he found himself
choking on his words, "And we don't have to worry about the past anymore.
We've still got a future to look forward to. The both of us."
Sheba finally managed to lift her head from his shoulder, look him in
the eye and speak, "I never thought this would be possible," her voice
was also a whisper, "I always thought if you ever saw me again, you'd
want to...." she shuddered and trailed off.
"To you?" he smiled faintly in a way that seemed to make her relax,
"Never."
"Oh God, Apollo," slowly, Sheba felt all the despair and depression
she'd been carrying inside her heart for sixteen yahrens start to leave
her body, "I love you so much. I love you more than anything."
"Tell you what," his smile widened a bit, "Suppose we make plans for
our long-overdue sealing ceremony. And this time, we can have the kind
of ceremony we always said we would have preferred."
For the first time in sixteen yahrens, a full, bright smile came over
Sheba's face.
"I guess we found a place to elope to after all," she said with a
chuckle.
"I guess so."
He pulled her tightly to him and they kissed. Long and passionately,
it lasted for more than five centons.
When he reluctantly allowed it to end, Sheba took a breath and said,
"Just a micron."
She then went back over to her chair and picked up the syringe for the
regular trianol injections she'd been taking.
"I won't be needing this anymore."
And then, without batting an eye Sheba hurled it over the edge of the
deck where it fell two hundred feet to the crashing surf of the Pacific
Ocean below.
"We've got a lot of catching up to do, haven't we?" her voice suddenly
grew sensuous and suggestive.
Apollo smiled and tenderly brushed her face with his fingers, "We
certainly do."
And then, with his arm wrapped around her waist, they both disappeared
back into the house.
The End