“Do you think he really believes the disease is a sham?” Lee asked. “Or that the Cylons will leave us alone if we believe in his god?”
Adama shook his head and stole a glance at Lee’s shaking hand. “Hard to tell. It doesn’t really matter, does it? What will matter is whether other people believe him or not.”
“Sir,” Dualla said, “I’m receiving numerous requests from reporters who want to interview you. Sixteen, at last count.”
“Tell ’em to shove their requests up their collective asses,” Tigh snarled. “Tell ’em—”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Adama said. “I think she gets the idea.” He took a deep breath and turned to Lee, his only surviving son. “Are you well enough to lead a strike force?”
“I can’t fire a weapon, but my tactics are just fine,” Lee said. “Where to? We don’t know where Attis is.”
“The Monarch,” Gaeta put in.
Everyone turned to stare at him. He took an unconscious step backward.
“How,” Adama asked, “do you figure that?”
“Exhaust trail,” Gaeta said. “Harder to trace, but not impossible. I’ve been working on it since I realized the first signal was a fake. The ships have moved around, of course, and I had to extrapolate a little, but the trail could lead to one of two ships—the Celestra or the Monarch. The Celestra is an Aeron ship and it’s small. Hard to hide there. The Monarch is a Geminon ship and it has most of the algae harvest on it. He could hold the food hostage if he wanted—another advantage. So I figure the Monarch was the shuttle’s the most likely destination.”
“Well done, Mr. Gaeta,” Adama said, then turned to Lee. “Assemble your strike force.”
“Much better,” said Tom Zarek. He leaned casually back against a bulkhead between two shelving units, his arms crossed. “Raising a revolution is much more effective if you get the people on your side. And having a good fighting song is a real plus.”
“You are so dead,” Kara growled from her position on the floor. Her hands—still shaking—were bound behind her. “You’re going straight back to jail once this blows over.”
“Really?” Zarek raised his eyebrows. “What for?”
“For aiding an escaped felon,” she snapped. “For inciting riot.”
Peter set down the microphone, his face hard. “So I was under arrest. Even though they told me that it was a quarantine thing.”
“It was a quarantine thing,” Kara protested. “Peter—”
“There you have it,” Zarek interrupted with a grin Kara wanted to smack. “If Peter wasn’t arrested, then I’m hardly aiding a felon. And if he was arrested, it was done illegally, since he’s broken no laws. We still have freedom of speech around here, last I looked. It’s not against the law to exercise our civil rights, no matter how inconvenient they may be for those in power.”
Peter knelt in front of Kara. “Look, I can’t deny it anymore. I’m the Unifier. My time among the Cylons was meant to show that to me, show me that the One exists. I see the One’s touch in so many people. The Scrolls say that I’ll save humanity with the gift of tongues, and I’m doing it.”
“What are you saving us from?” Kara asked hotly. “The Cylons? Give me a break.”
“I’m saving us all from lies. Kara, all our lives we’ve been told about the Lords of Kobol, and they do exist, but not as we’ve thought of them.” He leaned closer, and Kara could feel the heat emanated from his body. His eyes burned with a fervor that until now she had only seen when he was on stage. “We were like children, learning simple lessons. But now we’ve been thrown out of the nest and into the greater universe. The One will show us the way we need to go, but first we need to believe in the One’s existence.”
Kara tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. Peter’s handsome face and earnest, hypnotic voice lent credibility to his words. She actually found she wanted to believe him, would have been willing to at least consider what he was saying—except that she’d been kidnapped and tied up and her hands were shaking from the prions he had infected her with. His words meant nothing to her now.
Still, he had given her an opening, however small.
“Peter,” she said, “your ideas are pretty far out there, but… I have to admit that sometimes I wonder how the Lords of Kobol could possibly have let the Cylons destroy the Colonies. Maybe you’re right and there’s something more out there. I… I don’t know.”
“Of course there is, Kara,” Peter said, his blue eyes filling the world before her like a tropical ocean. “You’ve seen how the One smiles on me and my followers. I’m the Unifier.”
“Maybe,” Kara said, careful not to agree suspiciously fast. She glanced around the store room. Some of the Unity people had gone off, leaving only two guards behind. They were clearly civilians, and probably not good fighters. A couple of quick moves, and Kara would have one of their pistols. Tom Zarek was standing by himself, watching and listening with an amused expression on his face. He was unarmed and no threat.
Sharon was Kara’s main adversary. The Cylon, still masked, was packing up the radio transmitter and jamming device. Where the hell had she gotten that? Must have stolen it while she was wandering the ship. At Sharon’s feet lay a large red duffel bag, and Kara had no idea what that contained. She had the feeling it wouldn’t be fun finding out.
“Look,” Kara said, “this whole Unifier thing just seems kind of… I don’t know.” She shrugged and winced. “Ow! Frak, this hurts.”
“Here,” Peter said, reaching around behind her. His body pressed against hers, but with none of the intimacy they had shared in his room. This time, his touch made her want to throw up. “Let me get those off you.”
Kara held her breath as Peter’s hands found her restraints. In a few seconds …
“Hey!” Sharon grabbed Peter’s hands and pulled them away. “She’s toying with you, Peter. Unifier. They’re all trained for this—get you to trust them, and then when you untie them—pow! You’re on your back, and not in a good way.”
Peter stepped back uncertainly, and Kara glared at Sharon. “What’s your stake in all this, anyway? You’re not even…” She trailed off pointedly.
Sharon’s almond eyes crinkled above her mask. “I want to see the Unifier succeed. The established priesthood feels threatened by anything different, even when it’s the truth. Or maybe because it’s the truth.”
“That there’s only one god,” Kara said.
“That’s exactly it,” Sharon agreed. “The truth.”
The door to the storeroom opened, and some two dozen people entered. Peter turned to face them. Their expressions were alternately fearful, apprehensive, and skeptical. A few looked confident. Some wore red masks, and Kara scrutinized each. Were any of them in the military? Anyone she knew?
One of the masked Unities came forward. “These people want to hear the Unifier speak. They want to hear the truth.”
“Of course, my brothers and sisters.” Peter upended a crate and climbed on top of it. He seemed to have forgotten all about the truth Kara had wanted to tell him.
Kara strained against her bonds. Even though she knew it was futile, she couldn’t help it. “Why don’t you tell Peter your own truth, then? Or maybe I should.”
“Go ahead.” Sharon picked up the duffel bag and set it on the floor in front of Kara. “Just be prepared to pay the consequences.”
Kara automatically looked down at the bag’s contents. Her eyes widened. “Where the hell did you get missile ordnance?” she asked. Her heart was pounding again. She was sitting bare centimeters away from enough explosive power to wipe out a small ship or punch a hole in the side of a big one.
“There’s always someone willing to dicker,” Sharon said. “Especially for the chance to get close to the Unifier.” She squatted down beside Kara and said softly, “You know what they say, Lieutenant: ‘Loose lips blow ships.’ Though your lips blow something else.”
Kara automatically tried to take a swing at Sharon, and her wrists je
rked painfully against her restraints. Peter, meanwhile, was speaking to the crowd.
“…and know that you, too, are chosen by the One. You are special, part of the force that unifies us all. You can help us end the suffering, end the strife and war. You have the same power I do, if you just believe in the One.”
Although he was speaking in a scruffy storeroom in the bowels of gods only knew what ship, his powerful voice and silvery earnestness made it seem like he was standing on a windswept mountain, preaching to the masses below. The people listened, rapt and staring. When Peter gestured, they swayed in time to it, as if they were an orchestra Peter was conducting. Kara didn’t believe a word he was saying, but the power in him was undeniable. She saw the people’s expressions shift. Instead of fear or skepticism, she saw hope, and even happiness. The four people closest to Peter fell to their knees. Kara understood exactly what was going on. The civilians in the Fleet had few choices and certainly no control over anything major. They ate what they were rationed, went where their ships took them, died when the Cylons fought them. And the priests could do nothing but offer empty prayers. Peter was offering something better. He made them feel powerful and special, gave them hope for control over their own lives. Kara sympathized, but she wasn’t foolish enough to fall for false hope. Not again. Zarek leaned against the walk-in refrigerator door and watched the goings-on, a look of admiration on his face. Sharon watched also, her expression unreadable through her mask.
“Maybe my lips will blow your secret,” Kara said to her. “How would the Unifier react to learning one of his followers is a frakking Cylon?”
“You want to tell Peter who I am, be my guest.” Sharon gestured at the duffel bag. “But there’ll be a price if you open your mouth, honey. Tick tock, tick tock, boom. A boom from Boomer. Get it?”
“You can’t set that thing off,” Kara said, ignoring the stupid joke. “Not without the access code. And I’m sure as frak not going to give it to you.”
“What if I torture you?” Sharon’s tone was so idle, so gentle. It made Kara’s skin grow cold, and she remembered her father.
“Meh,” she said, trying to shrug. “Been there. Besides, Peter won’t cotton to you pulling out his consort’s fingernails.”
“It was just a whim.” Sharon leaned closer. “I already have the code, sweetie. The guy who gave me the ordnance provided it. I was just frakking with you.”
“Sure. Your lies are getting thinner, sweetie.”
“Okay. Go ahead and blab about me to Petey-boy. You do, I’ll enter the code. Poof! We’re nothing but a cloud of bloody debris.”
“Don’t forget that ‘we’ includes you.”
Sharon shrugged. “I don’t have much to live for and so I don’t care if I die. What about you?”
“I’m dying already,” Kara hissed back. “Plague of tongues, remember?”
“Ah, but you’re not a fatalist,” Sharon countered. “You think there’s a possibility the prions won’t kill you. The ordnance, on the other hand, will definitely kill you. A chance of life versus a definite death. I think you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
Kara glared at Sharon but kept her mouth shut as Sharon predicted. A small part of her wanted to shout the truth to Peter and his followers just to prove Sharon wrong, but the rational part of her knew better. She would have to keep Sharon’s secret.
For now, anyway.
CHAPTER
12
Lee Adama arrived in the rec room just before the fight started. He was winding his way through the section of the Galactica that housed the marines. The entire area smelled of sweat, gun-metal, and old blankets. Corridors were narrow, and the rooms were lined with bunks and lockers. A song echoed through the hallways. Lee paused to listen, tracking the source. It came from the rec room a ways down the hall, and the song in question was the revolution song Peter had broadcast over the radio. An angry rumbling sound provided a background. Lee tensed and hurried his steps.
He didn’t need this. He still had a throbbing headache from getting clocked in sickbay. It pierced his skull like a lead stiletto. And a desperate worry twisted his insides so tight, his bones felt as if they would break under the pressure. Kara had been snatched straight out of sickbay a few hours ago and seemed to be in the hands of a religious nutcase. Every detail of the events in sickbay was branded into his brain—Peter’s howling, Kara’s annoyed expression, the scarlet masks of the Unity kidnappers. He hated to admit it, but those masks had really creeped him out. He couldn’t explain why, even to himself. Masks always creeped him out. Once, when they were kids, his brother Zak had found a full-face mask made of translucent plastic. It gave the appearance of a perfectly smooth face with human flesh tones. Zak had jumped around a corner with it on and made ghost noises. Lee couldn’t comprehend what he was looking at, this blank-faced thing menacing him just outside his own bedroom. Utter terror had made his bladder let go. Zak had laughed at Lee and Dad had thrashed Zak for it.
And then had come the robotic Cylons.
The Unity were only people, Lee told himself, not inhumanly mechanical Cylons. But you could see robotic Cylons for what they were, and you could identify the human ones once you knew what their faces looked like. They shouldn’t be any more frightening than any other enemies Lee had faced. But the masks were still creepy. And he was still worried about Kara. What the hell were they doing to her? She would be both scared and pissed off. A part of Lee smiled at the thought of Kara held prisoner by religious fanatics. Why rescue her? Who cared what happened to the kidnappers?
But Lee continued to worry.
It seemed he worried a lot about Kara Thrace. More than he should. After all, she was just a friend. A close friend. Who was seeing someone else. A religious someone else. Lee’s head throbbed again. He had seen the picture of Kara kissing Peter in Person to Person. He had closed the magazine carefully, as if it might sprout teeth and snap off his fingers. Then he had pointedly put it out of his mind. No point in thinking about it. Kara didn’t matter to him in that way. She was more like a cousin or sister.
Definitely. A sister. Lee shook his aching head, trying without success to convince himself the lie—no, the statement—was true and that he wasn’t jealous over Peter Attis. He couldn’t be. He loved Kara, yes. But he wasn’t in love with her.
Sure. Of course not.
A few more steps down the corridor, and Lee entered the rec room. The place was crowded with off-duty personnel. A group of eight marines was pounding the table and singing Peter’s revolution song. Another group was half shouting at them to knock it off.
“Kill that shit,” one of the dissenters barked. “You want to preach blasphemy, do it in vacuum.”
“Frak off,” snarled one of the singers, advancing on the dissenter with clenched fists. “If you can’t handle the truth, get the frak off Galactica. The Unifier lives!”
Lee felt his mouth fall open and he halted dead. Unity factions among the marines? That was something he hadn’t even considered. Obviously the Unity was spreading farther and faster than anyone had anticipated. Before he could say anything, the dissenter rose to his feet and snapped a punch at the singer’s jaw. Taken by surprise, the singer dropped to the floor. There was a tiny moment of silence as everyone stared at everyone else, and then the room erupted into chaos. Fists and feet punched and kicked. Tables and chairs scattered and flew. Lee snatched a phone off the wall.
“This is Captain Adama in rec room seven,” he barked. “I need peacekeepers down here. Now!”
The brawl continued. The dull smack of flesh punching flesh thumped through the room, punctuated by grunts of pain and howls of outrage. Furniture crashed against walls and floor. Lee stood in the doorway, unable to halt the fracas by himself. Helpless anger suffused him. He could bark an order for everyone to freeze, but he doubted anyone would hear him, and being ignored like that would undermine his authority. He ground his teeth. The Cylon plague was succeeding in ways no one had anticipated.
“Hol
y frak! Look!” someone shouted.
And a hole opened up in the middle of the brawl. Two marines lay on the floor, twisting and convulsing. Nonsense fell from their mouths in a stream of babble. The fighting slowed and stopped as people turned to look.
“It’s a miracle!” said the singer. “The Unifier’s touch brings a blessing.”
“It’s a disease,” shouted someone else. “It’s not a blessing. The Lords of Kobol have cursed us for blasphemy.”
The two marines continued to babble. One was frothing at the mouth.
“You can’t call a miracle blasphemy,” the singer said, clenching his fists again. Blood flowed from a split lip. “You can’t—”
“Quiet!” Lee bellowed, taking advantage of the semi-calm. “That’s an order!”
Everyone in the room turned to look in surprise, noticing Lee for the first time. The afflicted marines convulsed and jabbered, lost in their own private, painful worlds.
“I should have everyone in this room arrested for conduct unbecoming,” Lee boomed. “Line up at attention!”
Several of the marines looked defiant and Lee wondered if they would actually disobey orders. What the hell would he do then? But the defiance lasted only a moment. They lined up just as a group of MPs burst into the room. They took in the situation quickly, and the sergeant turned to Lee.
“Sir?” he asked.
“I think we’re calmed down,” Lee said. “But those men need medical attention. Get them to sickbay. The rest of you need to remain here and make sure the situation stays calm.”
The marines stayed at attention while the MPs hauled the two babblers out of the room. Lee walked up and down the row of marines, the broken furniture forming a strange backdrop behind him.
“Hold out your hands, palm down,” Lee ordered.
The marines looked mystified but obeyed. Lee watched. Twenty marines held out forty hands, palm down. Two shook noticeably. Another five trembled, and three more started to shake a few seconds after Lee gave the order. Lee kept his own shaky hands behind his back.
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