"Where's my dad?" Koren asked, acting scared.
"He's coming," the man said.
Koren didn't believe him.
The funny thing about the restraints was that Koren could slip them off in a micron; not to mention the fact that he knew the code now. Maybe it worked for all of them.
"Let me go!" Koren started screaming. He kicked out with his legs and started thrashing.
"Hey!" the guy cried. "Easy! Calm down." He looked around nervously. Koren figured that his guesses were right. He wasn't supposed to be here, and this was all some kind of weird secret.
He screamed and thrashed some more.
"Stop that! You'll—"
Get other people to come in here, Koren thought. So he really screamed now.
The man threw himself on Koren, and tried to put his hand over Koren's mouth.
That was all the time Koren needed to slip his hands free. He remembered what his dad had shown him. And drove the heel of his palm up hard, right into the guy's big, ugly nose.
Koren felt something give when he did that. And the guy's eyes rolled up in his head, right in that micron. Blood gushed all over. The guy was half-conscious, and really heavy. Koren had to slide his body away, wriggling like a fish, but he got free.
As quickly as he could, he punched in that code he remembered, and the restraints snapped open. The guy was groaning, but there wasn't any strength in his big, heavy arms. Koren grabbed one hand, then the other, and got both hairy wrists into those restraints.
Snick!
They were shut. That was one big, ugly guy who'd be in a lot of trouble when he came to his senses.
And in another micron, Koren was on his feet, running toward that outer door as fast as his feet could go.
As Koren was running down the corridor, trying to remember all the landmarks he'd passed on that long walk with Sire Aron, and Apollo was headed on his mission, Starbuck was in the launch pod readying his Viper for another patrol.
Sheba arrived, ready to leave on her own mission. "What did you say to Athena, Starbuck?" Sheba asked, eyeing Starbuck's bruises and cuts.
"She just scratched me," Starbuck said, in no mood for Sheba's teasing.
Sheba laughed. "Right," she said. "Just a scratch or two."
"Hey," Starbuck said. "Cut it out. There's something coming over the comm."
"What?" Sheba asked, checking her Viper's laser cannons.
"Two Vipers, incoming," Starbuck said.
"We don't have—" Sheba said.
"You're right, we don't," Starbuck replied. "It's two of the missing Vipers!"
"The patrol!" Sheba cried.
Sheba and Starbuck took off at a dead run, heading for the landing bay.
When they got there, Starbuck's excitement faded, because it wasn't Dalton. He could tell by the markings right away that the Vipers belonged to Boomer and Bojay. But at least they'd have some word.
Starbuck pushed his way through the crowd of rejoicing pilots and mechanics to find Boomer, who was removing his helmet, looking totally drained.
"Boomer!" he cried, embracing his long-time wingman and friend.
At the same time, Bojay greeted Sheba with another enthusiastic bear hug.
"What happened?" Starbuck demanded of Boomer. He didn't have to say anything about Dalton.
Boomer answered right away. "She's still out there, man. They had more fuel. We lost them in this fracking cloud—we had no choice."
"But she's all right?" Starbuck asked.
"Yeah," Boomer assured him. "As far as I know, they're fine. We just can't get anything through that mess out there. But we went out, Starbuck—way out."
"Why didn't you and Bojay make them come back?" Starbuck asked, his face marked by frustration.
"We couldn't, man. We were really low on fuel, and we just—lost them. Visual, comm, everything," Boomer said. "They were doing something different, using inertia to carry themselves farther. But they were okay, Starbuck. Dalton said if anybody found the way out, it was going to be her, Trays and Troy."
"Boomer, do you realize how long we've been looking for you? We were almost convinced you were—"
Suddenly Boomer's honest face changed as he realized what had happened.
"I never realized," he said. "We thought you'd just think we were on patrol. I never—"
"We were getting to the point where we figured we'd never see you again," Starbuck said.
Boomer shook his head. "I didn't know," he said. "You must have—"
"Yeah," Starbuck said. "I was pretty worried about Dalton. And you too, man." He embraced Boomer one more time.
Meanwhile, Sheba told Bojay that she had to get Apollo right away—briefly sharing everything that had happened—at least as much as she could.
"A bomb!" Bojay cried.
"That's right," Sheba said. "But Apollo's got a plan. Tigh and Athena are on it. Bojay—I have to go," she said, tearing away from Bojay and heading off to find Apollo. "Apollo's going to get that boy back, and we'll find that bomb."
For once, Bojay had no quick retort as Sheba took off.
Turning to Starbuck, he said, "You would have thought she would have at least kissed me!"
Starbuck grinned, and Bojay joined Boomer and Starbuck in sharing their own thoughts about the Ur cloud and the trouble that lay out there.
"I don't know if there is a way out," Boomer said. "I mean, Dalton was pretty positive, but I don't know. It's like a ship's graveyard or something. I never saw anything like it."
Amid all the cheering and rejoicing, Starbuck and the other pilots sensed something change. People began to fall silent, and soon the crowd parted. A tall, gaunt form broke through the crowd, coming right up to the four friends.
"You have survived a great journey," the newcomer said in his deep, sonorous voice.
It was Gar'Tokk—the Noman. Starbuck wondered where Gar'Tokk had been lurking. He hadn't seen him in sectares or even heard about him since the victory celebration, and that seemed like another lifetime ago.
"You sure have a way with being the life of the party," Starbuck wisecracked.
The Noman's heavy brows lowered over his deep-set eyes.
Somehow, Starbuck knew, that expression wasn't a noman's version of a smile.
"I come to speak of serious matters," the noman said.
Bojay and Boomer looked at one another, wondering what the noman wanted with Starbuck, of all people. Gar'Tokk was known for not speaking with anyone except Apollo, and in fact, he had always acted like he was within a hair's width of putting out a blood hunt for Starbuck, just like his fellow nomen had with Starbuck's father, Chameleon. Nomen simply had no sense of humor at all.
"Hey, we've got something to celebrate," Starbuck said, grinning and clapping Gar'Tokk on his shoulder. The slow, dour double take that Gar'Tokk did quickly dampened Starbuck's enthusiasm, and Starbuck rocked back on his heels and put both his hands in his pocket.
"I forgot," Starbuck said sheepishly. "Never touch a Noman without his permission."
Bojay raised his hand to his mouth and snickered, stopping only when Starbuck shot him an enraged look of warning.
"Come with me," Gar'Tokk said in his low, menacing voice. His rough hand emerged from his cloak, beckoning to Starbuck.
"Hey, guys, I'll catch up with you later," Starbuck told them. He looked pleadingly at them for help, but Bojay and Boomer's expressions told him that this Noman problem was Starbuck's and Starbuck's alone to solve.
"Just my luck," Starbuck said under his breath, thinking that Gar'Tokk couldn't hear him.
"There is no such thing as luck," the noman growled as he led Starbuck through the crowd to an unknown destination.
"All right," Starbuck said in total irritation, after Gar'Tokk had led him through a seemingly endless series of twists and turns to a tiny engineering relay room hidden in a little-visited corner tucked away behind Galactica's starboard launch bay.
"This room is shielded," Gar'Tokk said.
&n
bsp; "What do you mean?" Starbuck asked. He blew dust from the untouched wires and looked around. "Who'd shield this? Nobody's been here in yahrens." Starbuck began to cough. "Hundreds of yahrens!" he added.
"There are eyes that see," Gar'Tokk said enigmatically. "But they do not watch this place."
"What… eyes?" Starbuck asked.
"You cannot understand," Gar'Tokk said. "You are a foolish man, but you are—friend—to Apollo."
"I don't know about that," Starbuck said. He touched the huge bruise over his eye and shuddered. It still hurt.
"Yes," Gar'Tokk said. "Nomen fight as well. But true-friends-brothers… are always one."
"I don't think Apollo's eager to be my friend right about now," Starbuck said.
"That is of no matter!" Gar'Tokk said, glowering.
"Yeah, right," Starbuck said, gesturing to calm down the suddenly angry Noman, who towered over him.
Starbuck knew that the Noman could twist him into a knot and break him over his knee in a micron. "Anything you say, Gar'Tokk."
"Apollo has need of his true friends right now," Gar'Tokk said. "There are those who plot against him. Dangerous ones."
"You got that right," Starbuck said. "The rebels and Baltar," he added.
"No," Gar'Tokk said. "The rebels are but a veil. And Baltar is not Apollo's enemy."
"Gar'Tokk, I'd love to stay and chat," Starbuck said, thinking only of how quickly he could get back to Boomer and find out some idea of where Dalton, Trays and Troy had been heading. "But I really have to run."
"Stay," Gar'Tokk said, enforcing his request with an iron grip on Starbuck's shoulder, pulling him back into the alcove.
Starbuck nodded, looking fearfully into the Noman's impassive face.
"Apollo fights the enemy within," Gar'Tokk said. "And the enemy with a false face."
Starbuck nodded. "Yeah," he said, even though he didn't understand a syllable. Starbuck just hoped to calm the Noman, who seemed like he was about to break into an insane fury at any moment.
Suddenly a dagger glittered in Gar'Tokk's hand. Starbuck cried out and struggled, but the Noman whirled Starbuck around and grabbed his other hand as easily as if Starbuck was a child.
"Hey, easy," Starbuck said.
But before he could say anything more, the dagger slashed across Starbuck's palm and Starbuck cried out, not so much in pain, because it had been so quick, but in shock.
Then the Noman released him, and Starbuck, holding his hand, watched in stunned silence as the noman raised the dagger once more, this time to make an identical slash across his own palm.
"We join in blood to protect Apollo," Gar'Tokk said.
Eyes wide, Starbuck stood frozen as the Noman grasped Starbuck's arm and brought Starbuck's palm together with his own.
"Our blood is mingled. We will not rest while Apollo is in danger. Our lives are forfeit if harm comes to him."
For once, Starbuck had nothing to say. He wondered if the Noman's blood mingling with his would turn him into some kind of seven-foot tall bearded monster—loathed and feared by all women—and worst of all—too scary to even consider playing triad with, and with no sense of humor.
"It is done," Gar'Tokk said. He released Starbuck, pushing him away, but not roughly.
"Listen," Starbuck said. "I don't know—"
"All that needed to happen has happened," the Noman said.
"What happened?" Starbuck asked. Who could understand a Noman?
"I sense that you want to go," Gar'Tokk said.
"No, really?" Starbuck said sarcastically.
"Do not mock this," the Noman growled. "But I understand more than you know, Starbuck."
All Starbuck could do was stare at Gar'Tokk in amazement.
"I know that you wish to find your daughter, blood of your body. This, a Noman understands."
"Dalton!" Starbuck cried. "What do you know about Dalton?" he asked.
"I do not see into this cloud," Gar'Tokk said. "But your friends have some knowledge. You may go to them. For the time being, I will carry the burden of protecting Apollo. For all the danger we face, the greatest danger is not yet here."
"What do you mean, 'greatest danger?'" Starbuck asked.
"You will learn. You may go to find your daughter if you wish. But do not take too long, Starbuck. The bond will call you back, in any case."
"Yeah," Starbuck said. "I can imagine," he added, though he really couldn't.
With that, Gar'Tokk drew his hood close to his bearded face, and Starbuck took off, racing back to catch up with Boomer and Bojay. At least the Noman had said one thing that made sense. Boomer and Bojay would be able to put Starbuck on Dalton's trail. And Starbuck was sick of waiting, and sick of fighting, and really sick of insane conversations and getting cut to shreds by crazy nomen in closets.
Dalton was out there, lost in the Ur cloud, and she needed him. Maybe now more than ever.
Apollo was at a full run, nearly at his destination.
He reached Sire Aron's quarters to find the door wide open, and a very strange sight within. He'd been preparing himself for a confrontation; accusations—maybe even a fight. Because there was one common element to everything that had happened. A common element with a wise, elderly and friendly face.
But that common element was nowhere to be seen. Apollo's eyes narrowed as he spotted a council security guard curled on the floor, his wrists shackled behind his back, blood pouring out of his nose. Apollo knelt beside the man, checking to see how badly he was injured.
"The kid," the man muttered, half-conscious. "He took off."
There was only one kid who'd be taking off. And of course he'd run away, Apollo thought. But how by the Lords of Kobol had a boy of twelve yahrens overcome a fully armed Council Security guard?
He didn't want to think the rest of what he was thinking, but the pieces were beginning to come together in his mind. Ugly ones.
"Why are you here?" Apollo asked the man.
"Gotta get the kid," the man said again. He was clearly not thinking straight, and maybe his eyesight was bad, because he didn't seem to recognize Apollo.
Thank the Lords of Kobol for that.
Torn as to what to do, Apollo contacted sickbay.
"There's an injured man in Sire Aron's quarters," he said. They'd be on their way.
Badly injured, Apollo realized. Koren! The boy was some fighter. Apollo marveled at his resourcefulness, even as he wished he could get his hands on him and put a stop to this insanity.
"Tigh!" Apollo said next. "Tigh, I'm in Sire Aron's quarters. Where is he?"
From the bridge, Tigh answered. "He's… they're in the Council Chambers right now. The rebel has arrived on board Galactica."
Time was so short.
"Tigh," the Council Guard muttered. "Damn him!"
Well, out of the mouths of… how many of these guards were traitors, Apollo wondered.
Apollo knelt close to the guard. "Yeah," he said, trying to make his voice sound hard and cruel. "Damn that Tigh and Apollo." This was hardly in character for Apollo, but the man was out of it. Maybe he could get some information out of him like this. He surely didn't recognize Apollo at all!
"Apollo's finished," the man muttered.
"About time," Apollo said.
"Yeah." The man blinked, and for a micron, Apollo thought that he recognized him, but he thrashed around instead and said, "Kid ran out. Gotta get him or we're all dead men."
Dead men! But Apollo asked, "Just over a kid?"
But that was all the information Apollo was going to get. The man's eyes rolled up again and he lost consciousness.
Under any other circumstances, Apollo would have stayed to help. He might have even carried the man to sickbay, even though he looked incredibly heavy. But these weren't just any circumstances.
Apollo's vision hadn't shown him this. A guard in Sire Aron's quarters and a "runaway kid." Find him! Or we're all dead men. True for everybody, Apollo guessed.
Out in the corridor, Apo
llo paused for a micron before recontacting Tigh on the bridge.
"Tigh, Koren was in Sire Aron's quarters. Get as many search teams as you can down on this deck. He can't be that far; he doesn't know the ship."
"Apollo," Tigh said. "We're overextended. Everyone's with Sheba right now, heading for sickbay. They think they've located the bomb."
"I'll meet them there," Apollo said. And he was running—again.
Sheba was rushing to find Apollo, her hurt ankle throbbing, when she caught one of the security teams in the corridor.
"We've checked the entire ship," one of the men told her. "And you haven't found a thing?" Sheba asked. "Look harder!"
"Just one place left to check," another team member said.
"Sickbay. Never thought to try—"
"That's where I'm headed," Sheba said. "Apollo's—" She paused, but only for a micron.
"Let's go!" she cried. "Everyone there's in danger!"
At a full run, the whole group set off, men and women, led by Sheba, who'd forgotten every bit of pain in her ankle.
They burst into sickbay. Cassi saw them first, turning, her eyes wide. Doctor Salik came from the lab, pointing at them and saying something about sick people needing peace and quiet.
The team immediately fanned out, scanning sickbay for signs of explosives.
Then Apollo rushed in, heading straight for Sheba.
"This is the only place we haven't checked," Sheba told him. "But there's something else—" she said, out of breath.
"What's going on?" Apollo asked. He was out of breath, too.
Sheba said, "Boomer and Bojay are back."
"Sheba!" Apollo cried. "That's incredible news! Have they—"
"They're fine," she said. "But we've got to find that bomb!"
"Lords of Kobol," Apollo said. "Doctor Salik, we've got to evacuate everyone!"
"I got something," a security guard called. He was by the door, where a medtech's jacket lay carelessly thrown over a bench.
"That's my jacket," Cassi said slowly. As if time had frozen, Apollo looked over at her, realizing how the bomb had been planted.
"Okay, we've got to disarm it—I'm taking it our of sickbay, away from the patients. Bomb disposal teams One and Two, you know the drill."
He tore open the jacket, and the bomb—so small that bomb, how could so tiny a device threaten a battlestar like the Galactica? —he tore open the jacket and the bomb fell into his hand.
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