He was not a great man, nor even a good one; he was not a decent man, but there was within him the possibility of decency, and even more, here in hell at the end of his sectares, he wanted… something for himself. Didn't want to be alone.
Wasn't that the lot of most people? Only the smallest portion were people of character; rather most people were good and bad mixed together.
Baltar was a bad man, in the end. But judge him as carefully as you would be judged—his lot is more our own than we would prefer to admit. He knew if he spoke up too soon, he would not be believed, and he would seal his own fate. The only chance lay in stealth, and in waiting and hoping that Apollo would figure things out on his own.
That was Baltar's plan, and nobody but Baltar could ever have understood it.
As they reached the bridge, Apollo saw that they'd come nowhere, that the problems that confronted them were still as they'd been when he'd left, and that it was time to bring command to the sort of consensus that would allow for action.
"Starbuck," he said. "I want a meeting: conference room eight, twenty centons. Key players from engineering, science, and command. If we can't know what to do, we're going to have to guess. But I want the best minds we have doing the guessing. Make it happen."
"Yes sir!"
Starbuck was as uncomfortable as he had ever been in all his yahrens.
Very uncomfortable.
Very, VERY uncomfortable.
What got to him wasn't just being stuck on the underside of the universe like spilled mushies stuck to the sole of the Maker's shoe. It wasn't just Apollo acting so much like his father, Adama, that he seemed like a trance channeler in the bazaar on Galfrax Nine. It wasn't Athena on the verge of hysteria—calm, resolute Athena, hysterical! It wasn't just the engineers and scientists, all of them droning on cluelessly for a meeting that stretched on the ninety centons, somehow managing (with their unwillingness to admit that they knew nothing and their need to posture) to turn a circumstance that almost certainly meant the end of the fleet into an occasion for boredom.
All of that—well, Starbuck wasn't born yestersectare.
He knew the fleet, its people, and its crew; he'd looked at death before, and lost many whom he'd loved. None of that was new.
No. What really unsettled Starbuck was Baltar.
Baltar!
Starbuck had known Baltar almost as long as he'd known Apollo, and in all that time he'd never sensed any decency in him. Oh, Starbuck wasn't any Adama, or even Athena or Apollo; he didn't see into people by communing with the infinite. But he had good people sense, and he knew what was in that blackguard's heart.
Baltar was an Alturian slime vermin, the kind that infests the produce on Alturia Four. Starbuck still hated thinking about getting those damned slime worms out of the ventilation system after the Galactica had picked up a case… the things eat dust, quite efficiently, and leave in its place a stinking slime that never dries___
Starbuck shuddered, remembering. All that slick gooey stinking slime!
That was Baltar—a slime that never dries.
And the most unsettling thing Starbuck could imagine was seeing a glimmer of decency in that man. It was unnatural. That alone made Starbuck think that something worse was on the way, a whole lot worse.
"Starbuck! Starbuck, are you dozing with your eyes open?"
Starbuck felt himself blush. "Sorry, Apollo. I guess I was. Did I miss something important?" He looked around the room, fighting the impulse to make a sarcastic comment. And failing. "I'm lost in the doubletalk and butt-covering. Sorry."
A titter of giggles went around the room. Athena cleared her throat.
"Cute, Starbuck," she said angrily. And then she looked around the room. "But he's not wrong. There's nobody in this room who has a clue where or why we are, or how we've ended up here."
Apollo nodded. "He is," he said. "Starbuck, I need you to get Baltar up here. He, at least, had some understanding of this place." And Baltar had a sense of the choices Apollo was going to have to make, also.
It wasn't a whole lot different from the choice Baltar had made all those yahrens before that had sent the ragtag fleet on its long journey. Baltar had sold out all the tribes save his own; the Cylons had hardly kept their bargain.
It was only Starbuck's loyalty to Apollo that sent him on his journey to the brig. Anybody else, he thought. Anybody else, but Apollo…
"Baltar," he said, accessing the old monster's cell. "They want you up in the command council meeting."
Baltar was waiting for him, ready. "Yes," the old man said. "I've been expecting you."
Starbuck rolled his eyes; inwardly, imperceptibly, he shuddered.
"Good. They're stumped up there."
"I'm sure they are," Baltar said, grinning at Starbuck.
"I'm going to shackle you," Starbuck snarled.
Baltar nodded. "I understand."
Shaking his head, searching Baltar's face for some answer to the mystery, Starbuck snapped the cuffs on the old villain's wrists. The old criminal thanked him and smiled; that was the worst part of all of it—Baltar, polite!
Baltar entered the conference room like a conquering hero, a conquering hero in cuffs. He carried himself with the regal air of one who commands and all who saw him sensed that something had changed in him, although only Apollo reacted with anything but disgust. There was something wise about the old snake. Unmistakably wise.
Everyone turned. Baltar chose to take their astonished looks as admiration.
Maybe that was even a smile on Athena's face! "Baltar," she said. Baltar took that as a friendly greeting, but he did not smile at her. "You clearly knew a lot about what has happened. Tell us what we can do."
Now they needed him. Now! After all those years.
Baltar couldn't help himself. He laughed ominously and watched all of their expressions change. Tigh, Athena, Starbuck, even Apollo. "You want to try blasting your way out, Athena? It might work, you know—an atomic demolition munition in the right place, and this capsule of null-space could become a worm-hole again."
"Well, frack! Let's do it!" Starbuck cried, reaching for his comm, starting to issue orders to the weapons control officer on the bridge.
"No!" Baltar cried. He rushed forward. So much for the regal entrance. "Starbuck, you idiot!"
"What?" Starbuck said, dropping his hand.
Apollo stood and went to Starbuck's side, shaking his head.
"Don't you know when a man's trying to be ironic?" Baltar asked, looking at all of the puzzled, alarmed, confused faces. "If this battlestar tries to blast its way out, we could destroy whole quadrants of space with an atom blast in here, even, conceivably, alter the physics of our universe."
Starbuck swore. His face went pale. "You'd better not be trying to…" he growled.
Apollo touched Starbuck's shoulder, shaking his head.
"I understand," he told Baltar. He looked around at the others. Athena, Tigh, and all the rest. They were trying to understand. The danger was clear, but Apollo realized that even Athena didn't realize… everything. Athena had to get back to the Daedalus. But even with the two battlestars…
"I'm going to say something that doesn't leave this room," Apollo said.
"Of course," everyone said. Everyone except Baltar.
"That includes you," Apollo said to Baltar. Baltar nodded.
"You can't trust him," Starbuck cried.
"We don't have any choice," Apollo said in a low voice. To Baltar, he said, "Maybe you already know. We don't have the power to blast out of here no matter what. Our resources were critical before this happened."
Starbuck thought for a moment that Athena was going to challenge Apollo, because she stood and leaned on the table. She was some woman!
"Apollo's right," Athena said in her strong, clear voice. "Baltar, we don't have many options. What can we do?" She swayed the others a little; she and Apollo were a team, and even Starbuck began to question his assumptions about Baltar. Good, bad? What was h
e?
"Send out small teams in Vipers, have them explore the cloud forms that surround us. If they can find a way out hidden in there, we could use this as a wormhole after all."
"Fuel's at critical," Tigh said. "We've got…"
Apollo nodded at the president, still his best command officer in addition to Athena.
"Our resources are very limited for… exploration… What else can we do?"
"Pray," Baltar said.
"Oh, frack!" Starbuck said, unable to keep quiet any longer. "You can count yourself out on that, Baltar."
Apollo didn't even smile. "What else, Baltar? What other alternatives?"
"Accept our fate," Baltar said, "and die with honor."
Starbuck jumped toward Baltar, but Apollo held him back; the tension in the room was like lightning sparking in a summer storm.
"What do you know about that?" Starbuck cried.
"Starbuck," Apollo kept saying. Baltar grinned and drew his cloak close. When he caught Athena's eye, he winked.
Starbuck and Sheba organized the Vipers. The long-range patrol prepared to set out. Starbuck didn't bother Apollo with the details. There was a problem with the fuel right off; Apollo just said, "take what you need." Starbuck assumed there'd be more… somewhere. So he "borrowed" enough for Troy, Dalton and Trays to penetrate deep into the Ur cloud. It wasn't hard to do that if he promised the civilian ships that it would be paid back.
And of course they would be paid back. Troy, Dalton and Trays would find the way out. If they had problems, Boomer and Bojay were right along with them.
Sheba approved; in fact, she got even more fuel from one of the agri-ships.
It wasn't as easy as it seemed. Ever since they'd landed in this cloud and the Tylium reactors went dark, the bad situation they'd had at the battle of Kobol had gotten a lot worse. The Vipers had to use their slow, conventional engines—engines they'd ordinarily use for fine docking adjustments in close quarters. And once those fuel cells were gone, they were gone.
Even so, Starbuck didn't see a problem with "borrowing" and offering to pay back later.
Troy found out about it as they were launching. "Starbuck," he said, "Why did you promise the Ceres and the Astrogator that you'd pay them back? We don't know…"
"You're going to find the way out, buddy," Starbuck said. "Once we blow this cloud, we'll find a decent planet and rebuild. The reactors will be back online, and it'll all be okay."
Dalton came running up behind Troy. As soon as she saw Starbuck and Troy talking, she stopped. Her whole expression changed.
"Hey," she said to Starbuck.
"Hey," he said back.
Troy looked between the two of them. Nothing was ever easy between Starbuck and Dalton. Troy knew a lot of Dalton's complicated feelings toward her father. Somehow, the nagging question about the borrowed fuel didn't seem so important right then.
"Listen," Starbuck said, hesitating and shifting around awkwardly from one foot to the other. "Dalton, take care of yourself out there."
"Yeah," she said. And with a brief smile, she leaned close and kissed Starbuck's cheek. "Don't worry," she whispered. "I'll take care of Troy, too."
Troy didn't hear what she said. Who knows what he would have said to that? He punched Starbuck's arm and said, "I'll take care of her."
"Yeah," Starbuck said. Then he started to retreat. It was obvious that he didn't know what to say. They were going out into totally unknown territory. The regular fuel cells seemed to work fine, even if the Vipers were slow—right near Galactica and Daedalus. That might not hold the farther out the patrols went.
"Starbuck," Troy called. "What if we don't find anything out there? You just took the total reserves for those two ships. By the time Sheba's finished, they can't…"
"Don't worry!" Starbuck said. "It's Apollo's orders. He knows what he's doing."
"Okay," Troy said. Then Trays came running up and Troy definitely didn't want to get into any small talk with him around. Not any more than he had to. He turned to say something to Dalton, but Trays had grabbed Dalton's hand and was dragging her toward their Vipers, pointing at something.
Troy felt his eyes narrowing and his heart start pounding.
Not now, he told himself. Don't get into anything with him. The fleet was counting on them. But Trays! That tracking immature, aggravating… he was already out of sight behind the fuselage of the Viper with Dalton. That couldn't last, not with Troy there. He ran after them.
Athena returned to the Daedalus, organizing more patrols there.
That left Apollo heading for the bridge. On the way, he saw Tigh, heading the other way toward the Council chambers.
"Hey," Apollo said, smiling, but feeling like he wanted to… well, maybe do something like Starbuck always did, to blow off steam—game of triad, Pyramid—there weren't any centons for that.
Tigh's forehead was lined; it was obvious he had a lot on his mind, and the telltale deep lines on each side of his mouth were tight with worry.
Things had been getting bad all over the Galactica, because people were scared. Really scared. But the corridor was the same pristine, calm, orderly place it had always been. Apollo's heart and mind were anything but calm. The fleet's status was… critical in every way. There wasn't enough fuel, no matter what Apollo did, and the food stores were… Apollo suddenly reached over and put his hand on Tigh's shoulder.
"It will work," Tigh said. "Let me handle the Council."
Apollo tried to nod, but he couldn't. All at once he turned away. He missed Athena already, and she'd only been back on the Daedalus a few centons.
It was like Athena had said. They had no choice. The Vipers had to have the fuel. The pilots and the warriors had to have enough rations. And…
Tigh and Apollo both knew. There was no point in hashing it over again. There were only so many food rations left, and only so much fuel.
"Why did we get those coordinates! Why did Athena hear that?" Apollo asked in a low, desperate voice.
"It will work, Apollo," Tigh said, his military calm keeping his expression steady and his voice from rising into desperation.
"I told Starbuck to take what was needed," Apollo said. "Do…"
"There's no choice," Tigh said. "Not any. It's not like I believe Baltar, but I can see for myself. There's no planet here that our scanners can find. Dead astrolons, that's about it. If we don't send out those patrols, we're all…"
"I know," Apollo interrupted. He shook Tigh's hand. "Explain this to the Council. They won't understand unless you explain everything."
"I will," Tigh said in his deep voice. "The Vipers will find a way out. Then, this crisis will pass," he said.
That was nothing like Apollo's vision, but he couldn't tell Tigh. He couldn't send him off to the council like that. Even though Apollo still felt the warmth of his deep connection with Athena, he had never felt so alone. He watched Tigh's cloak swirling as the president left on his errand, and turned back to the bridge.
There were a lot of questions for Apollo. How shall we feed our people? What shall we do when our fuel reserves run out?
"Wait" was not the right answer, but it was the only one that Apollo had. That, and whatever Baltar knew that he wasn't telling.
If anybody had told Apollo that he'd be seriously considering relying on Baltar for anything a few centons before, he would have laughed out loud. But now…
* * *
On the bridge of the Daedalus, Athena had her own problems.
"Athena," Flight Officer Omega said. It was good that Athena had his experience available on the Daedalus. "We've got more trouble."
Athena couldn't believe that there was even more "trouble." Things had gone so crazy, but she knew that Omega wouldn't overstate a thing.
"The Hestia is breaking up; they're breached in three spots," he said.
The Hestia was not the largest of the civilian ships, but there were more than two hundred men, women and children on her.
. "Can we launch a—" A
thena hoped that they could send over a repair team, perhaps fix Hestia quickly.
Omega shook his head. "No, we're completely overextended. The best we can do is send a transport, evacuate them—there's room on the Rising Star."
"How long do we have?" Athena asked. Then her heart went cold. She knew people on the Hestia. Protea, and her children. Protea had grown up with Athena. She hadn't talked recently to her, but she was positive that was Protea's ship. There were more children than adults on the ship. This was unbelievable!
"Unknown," Omega said. "It's the fuel diversion, too. They might have been able to do more repairs if…" He left the rest of the sentence unsaid.
"Get a rescue ship over to them," Athena ordered. Omega nodded and executed the command.
"This is the Hestia!" came a desperate female voice over the comm. "We've got to…"
"Hestia," Athena said, breaking in, "we're sending a rescue barge. You've got to evacuate as soon as possible. We have no resources to repair you; we're going to salvage the ship and get you to the Rising Star."
"But this is our home!" the woman cried. It wasn't Protea.
Athena knew. She said things of comfort, but the words sounded so empty. There were two hundred desperate lives on that ship, and two hundred people who did not want to leave the only home they'd known for twenty years. Protea was a talented teacher; the last time Athena had seen her, silver was threading through her long, dark hair. But her face had still looked young, and she had been happy about the education program on the Hestia; even cheerful despite their cramped quarters.
Another ship lost; the fleet was collapsing upon itself like Kobol had under Iblis' demonic onslaught.
"Salvage! We don't want to lose our…"
"Hestia, we can't repair you. Prepare your people for evacuation," Athena said, cutting Hestia's transmission off mid-sentence.
Omega looked over at Athena, his eyes wide. But he didn't say anything.
"We don't have any choice," Athena said. "This is the only option."
Omega nodded; he was sending out the barge that none of those people were going to want to board. The Rising Star was overcrowded as it was. Nobody would be happy to welcome another two hundred homeless refugees.
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