Battlestar Galactica-04-Rebellion

by Richard Hatch

  "Get it into the corridor! Three, four, clear the corridor of civilians, keep the area clear!"

  The security team moved out of sickbay into the hall; when they were far enough to be just barely in earshot, the one who'd torn Cassi's jacket set the device carefully on the floor and two of this compatriots set to work disarming the thing.

  "Look at it!" said the officer who'd been referred to as One. "A damnable Gemonese toy!"

  "A trinket! A bloody jury-rigged Gemonese trinket, nothing to worry over."

  "We've been searching the whole damned Galactica for a toy?!"

  "Spare me these damned Gemonese!"

  Sheba pushed past the security men who were trying to block the door to sickbay. She was walking toward the disposal team, stalking slowly but angrily.

  "You!" she said. "One, Two—stop talking like a couple of fools and take your work seriously! The folks who made that bomb are sharper than you want to think. If you don't pay close attention, you're going to get us all killed."

  Two laughed. "Be serious, Colonel," she said. "It's just a toy! All I have to do is sever the timing wire, here, and it's dead."

  He did not give her time to order him to stop before he cut the wire.

  And blew the whole damned corridor to kingdom come.

  The Galactica was designed to survive serious damage, of course.

  The loss of thirty meters of the hull, of the corridor itself—that wasn't fatal. If sickbay had been deep in the center of the structure, or close to the Tylium core, and the core had been functional— that might have been a crippling blow. But in a very real sense the Galactica was already crippled; in this place, the loss of a large stretch of corridor was only an inconvenience.

  The ship was designed as a matrix of chambers that seal on rupture; the moment that the blast began the safeties triggered, and doors all over the Galactica began to close. By the time Sheba was thrown into sickbay by the blast, the door had nearly sealed itself.

  And then the blowback started; while the door was still sealing, the corridor had opened out to space, and it was sucking air out into the void, sucking both of the security men into the void—Sheba felt herself being sucked out, and she screamed.

  And then a hand clasped around her wrist. And slowed her momentum just long enough for the door to finish sealing.

  She fell to the floor, and looked up to see Apollo—she owed her life to Apollo.

  And then the universe went black around her.

  Apollo staggered, his ears ringing, eyes stinging and burning. He could sense the groans and cries all around him, but really couldn't hear them. The smoke began to clear a little. Sheba lay crumpled on the floor; through the portal on the sickbay door he could see the void of space.

  Desperately, he issued commands, then knelt beside Sheba.

  She wasn't moving. Her body was covered in blood and burns. Half of her beautiful hair was gone. A white-faced Doctor Salik came trotting up, a medkit in his arms.

  "Sheba!" Apollo cried.

  But there was no response.

  Dalton was cruising through the Ur cloud beside Troy and Trays, and to tell the truth, maybe she was just sectaredreaming, because it seemed like they'd been out in this blindness forever. She could hardly remember what they were doing out there for a moment.

  Maybe she had drifted off, just briefly, because all at once she was thinking of sharing a kiss with Troy, just long and slow, and his arms were around her and—

  "Dalton!" came Trays' voice. "You asleep at the comm?"

  "No," she said, shaking her head free of the wild, crazy dreams, feeling suddenly guilty because she'd been thinking about Troy that way, and there was Trays, calling after her.

  "Dalton, Trays, we've got to turn back. The fuel's at critical," Troy said, and that wasn't very romantic, either. Don't think about either of them that way, Dalton told herself.

  "No!" she said. "Troy, we're at the edge of the cloud. I know it!"

  "It's the same as it's always been," Troy said. "I know that we thought there was some change, but it's so crazy out here—"

  "Maybe it was just a dream," she said. And all of a sudden she heard her father's voice. Starbuck's voice, like he was sitting in the cockpit with her. "Dalton, be strong," he said. "Don't give up."

  That hurt. Because it was just Dalton wishing that Starbuck had said that. She was always chasing something. If she could only be the best pilot, prove to her father that she was…

  "Yeah," Troy said. "Look, Boomer and Bojay are sure to be back by now. I know we're the only ones who've made it this far, but there's always another sectare. We've got to turn back. We can get back, retool, and—"

  "Troy," Dalton said, shaking herself out of the sad feelings and the regret, forcing herself to be ready for anything. "They were almost out of food when we left. We don't know what's happened since we've been out of touch. We're their only hope. If we don't find a way out—"

  "Yeah, don't wimp out," Trays said. "You afraid something bad's going to happen? Don't worry—I'm right here."

  "I'm trying to use common sense, Trays," Troy snapped. Then he spoke to Dalton. "Look, sometimes we can't do everything," he told her. "The fuel's critical. Besides," he said, pausing for a micron. "Dalton!" he said, his voice full of alarm.

  "What?" she asked.

  "I can't get any readings here. There's… everything's gone crazy."

  Dalton quickly checked her directionals. Troy was right. Soon, Trays joined in, having the same problem. One micron, the instruments told her that they were at the Galactica's coordinates, almost home, and the next, they were at the opposite side of the Ur cloud, parsecs beyond where they'd started.

  "We're lost," she said.

  "Boomer and Bojay know where we lost them," Troy said confidently. "All we have to do is wait."

  "I wouldn't wait on them," Trays growled.

  "Trays, stop it," Dalton said, remembering what her partner must have forgotten in his excitement. "We've been coasting more than we've been using our drives. There's no ion trail for them to follow. Not any more."

  "Oh, frack," Trays said. She heard him breathing heavily through the comm. "You're right. Now, what are we going to do?" he asked.

  She thought of the words of Starbuck that she thought she'd heard: Be strong. Don't give up.

  After a micron, she repeated the words to Troy. "We'll keep going," she said. "The Lords of Kobol wouldn't let us fail now."

  "I hope you're right," Troy said. "I really hope that you're right."

  "I'll trust in myself, if you don't mind," Trays said. But neither Dalton nor Troy paid much attention to him.

  Starbuck caught up with Boomer and Bojay just as they were leaving the launch bay.

  "Hey," he said, out of breath.

  All three of them stopped and looked at Starbuck like he had just announced he was going to seal himself with Baltar and live forever as a happy couple.

  Starbuck finally realized that his hand was coated in bright red blood, and he looked at them disarmingly. "Gar'Tokk," he said, trying to explain.

  This still didn't have the desired effect. "Starbuck, you're dripping blood," Boomer said. "What in the stars happened?"

  Starbuck wiped his hand on his leg, which only made things worse, because now his uniform was streaked with blood.

  "I can't explain now," he said. "I'm not sure I could—I mean—some kind of crazy Noman ritual."

  "Man!" Boomer exclaimed. "I knew we should have followed you."

  "No," Starbuck said, shaking his head. Bojay pulled a bright pink strip of cloth from his pocket and handed it to Starbuck, who wrapped it around his hand.

  "Thanks," Starbuck said. Then, pausing, he looked at the cloth, then back at Bojay. It was obviously from a woman's outfit, or at least—part of an outfit. "Where'd you get this?"

  Bojay shrugged. "You're not the only one who gets around, Starbuck."

  Compared to the crazy noman and Starbuck's bleeding hand, it sounded so ridiculous. Starbuck l
aughed, and in a moment all three of them were laughing.

  When the laughter faded, Starbuck put his unhurt hand on Boomer's shoulder and looked into his friend's face.

  "Boomer," he said. "I need you to give me every trace you had of Dalton, Troy and Trays. I'm going to go after them."

  "Okay," Boomer said. "I'm ready when you are."

  "Right now," Starbuck said.

  "I'm going with you," Bojay said, pushing his way past Boomer.

  Starbuck shook his head. "Not this time, buddy," he said. "If something happens, we can't afford to lose another of our best pilots."

  "Starbuck, you can't go out there—"

  "You just watch me," Starbuck said. "I'm going to find Dalton, if it's the last thing I do."

  "Frack!" Tigh swore at his position at the bridge.

  "What now?" Athena asked from the Daedalus.

  "Sire Aron's on his way. He says that he argued and argued, but the Council is convinced that Apollo deliberately put Sheba in the way of that blast."

  "Lords of Kobol," Athena said under her breath.

  "Apollo's looking for the boy," Tigh told her.

  "Thank the Lords—at least maybe he can find him before Jinkrat gets to the Galactica and discovers—"

  "Discovers what, Athena?" A kindly voice echoed through the bridge. Sire Aron had arrived, backed by a squadron of black-shirted council security goons, twins to the one Koren had conquered with the help of those restraint cuffs.

  "I let them through without announcing them. I'm sorry," a warrior said, who had been posted at the entry to the bridge.

  "We welcome our Council member," Tigh said, thinking quickly.

  A strange, uncertain look passed over Aron's face, but then he smiled.

  "Where is Apollo?" Aron asked. "He has much to answer for. I have it on the authority of the security personnel that he is responsible for the damage to the ship, and Sheba's injuries."

  "You do?" Athena asked from her screen, silencing a furious Tigh with a quick look of warning.

  "What do you plan to do about Jinkrat's demands now?" Tigh interrupted. "The explosive was detonated and his son is still missing."

  "We are still negotiating," Aron said. Then he shook his head, seeming to be full of grief. "This is a tragedy. But Apollo has led us into even more danger. I fear that the boy may be—"

  He cut himself short, but even from her screen, Athena could see that he was implying that Koren could be dead.

  "There's something not right about this," Tigh muttered under his breath to Athena.

  "What was that, Tigh?" Aron asked.

  "I said, we don't know where Apollo is," Tigh responded.

  "Truly unfortunate," Aron said. "He must be found before Jinkrat arrives. I'm afraid I won't have good news for him, yet if Apollo can be questioned—"

  "I'm not sure Apollo is the one who should be questioned," Tigh said cautiously.

  Aron's brows raised, and he said, "Whatever do you mean, President Tigh?"

  Athena surveyed the guards that she could see onscreen. A dozen, all heavily armed. And it was only Tigh, and the single warrior who'd been guarding the bridge.

  Aron had begun to wander curiously around, touching control panels, making little satisfied noises to himself.

  "Tigh," she whispered when Aron went out of sight.

  "Yes, Athena?" he asked.

  "We may be able to find Apollo," she said. "Perhaps he's with Baltar."

  "Baltar!" Aron cried. "Of course!"

  Immediately, he turned, sending half the security force away.

  "But then again," Athena said.

  Aron interrupted her. "It is of no matter. We will find him. And my security forces will quell this rebellion, which Apollo has been unable to control."

  "I thought you were—friendly—with the rebel Jinkrat," Tigh said, stepping forward.

  Aron smiled. "Of course!" he said. "I am dedicated to serving the people, and Jinkrat's people have been grievously injured by Apollo's selfish actions."

  Tigh's face darkened. "Selfish?" he asked.

  Athena broke in. "What do you mean about the rebellion?" she asked, her heart cold and full of apprehension, but trying to smile and convince the Council member that she was considering his qualifications as a leader.

  "Apollo allowed this rebellion to occur," Aron said.

  "By hoarding food, fuel and everything he could get his hands on. And—he's responsible for this violent attack, Sheba's injuries— and frankly, we have no way of knowing whether or not he kidnapped the boy."

  "That's not true," Athena said quietly. "We've been doing—"

  "I know what you've been doing," Aron said, interrupting her. Then, his expression suddenly changed, softening. He came close to the screen. Fighting back a shudder, she forced herself to look into the old man's eyes.

  "Aron," she said.

  He smiled at her, and Athena sensed something horrible behind his kindly face. Looking in his eyes, she had a premonition of evil that she could hardly believe. She forced herself to smile back. Causing problems at this point would only destroy all chances of Apollo finding Koren and speaking one-on-one with the rebel leader, putting a stop to the rebellion himself.

  "Athena, I'm so sorry," Aron said. And all of a sudden, he was the kindly, older Council Leader again. "I can't see any other option. The fleet is in the worst situation it's ever been in. Apollo's days as a leader are over."

  "When the truth comes out, you'll see things differently," Athena said. It was almost impossible to believe what she was hearing.

  "We have learned many facts," Aron said. "All point to Apollo's complete abdication of leadership."

  "Apollo would never—" Athena said.

  "Please understand," Aron said. "Neither I nor the council blames you at all. In fact, we plan to name you as interim leader, — in command of both the Galactica and the Daedalus."

  Athena bit her lip. "I am satisfied with my command."

  "I can offer you much more opportunity than Apollo ever would," Aron said. "Well I remember how Adama always gave Apollo the lead. But you have proven yourself capable, Athena."

  Athena shut her eyes, then opened them. "I know that I'm capable, Sire Aron," she said. "And so does Apollo."

  Tigh looked on, his dark eyes wide with astonishment and disgust.

  "Just think, Athena," Aron went on. "Two battlestars under your command."

  Athena looked into his blue eyes, still shining bright in his aged face. How could this have happened?

  "What about Jinkrat?" she asked. "Doesn't he have some—interests?"

  "Well, of course," Aron said. "But he's just an unsophisticated… farmer. We will work with him, of course. However, that may not be possible if what I fear has happened and his son is dead. He's already—" But then Aron pulled himself short, smiling at Athena.

  "I've said too much," he said.

  Then, he turned to Tigh. "Please ground all Vipers as you were ordered centars ago. I am aware that patrols are still flying."

  Tigh turned. Athena could see that he was issuing nothing more than a command to perform a routine systems check. But, she saw from looking over at Aron that his unfamiliarity with the bridge would help—at least for the time being.

  "Would you like me to find Apollo?" she asked. "I believe I could track my brother down."

  Aron turned back to her, smiling once more. "What a good idea, Athena! Yes, of course!"

  And with that, he drew his cloak about his body and left, striding imperiously from the bridge, but leaving six security guards behind in his wake.

  Athena and Tigh looked at each other. Now what would they do?

  Chapter Seven

  APOLLO COULDN'T get the image of Sheba, battered and torn, out of his mind. But he had to search even so. Jinkrat was within centons of reaching Galactica, and if he came and found that Koren was still missing, there was no telling what would happen.

  Apollo ran through all the options. How many traitors were there,
and traitors to whom?

  Boomer and Bojay were looking for the boy, too. And everyone who had been on the bomb search squad. They'd find him, sooner or later.

  Then Baltar's alarm went off.

  By now, Apollo was getting used to it. But he had no time at all right now. He was searching the engineering deck. The blasted alarm! He checked it again—it was almost beyond belief. Baltar was headed for Apollo's special place: the Celestial Chamber.

  "Boom," Apollo said over his comm. "Any sign around Bay Three?"

  "Negative," came Boomer's voice. "We're still looking."

  "He's little and tough," Apollo said. He took a deep breath. "And really smart. He could be anywhere."

  "Gotcha, Commander," Boomer said. "I may not be little, but I'm not dumb."

  "Me neither," came Bojay's wisecracking voice.

  Apollo couldn't help but grin.

  "You know you're a wanted man, right?" Boomer said. "We're supposed to track you down, too."

  "Yeah," Apollo said in a heavy voice. "I know. Wanted—"

  "Dead or alive!" Bojay said.

  Boomer laughed, but Apollo didn't think it was all that funny.

  "How's Sheba?" Bojay asked, his voice more serious.

  "Don't know, Bojay. The doctor says she's hurt very badly."

  "Frack," Bojay said.

  "Look, I've got to go," Apollo said. "Check in if you find anything, and I mean anything. Boom, if that transport comes in with Jinkrat, stall it. Do anything. Create a diversion."

  "My specialty," Boomer said.

  Apollo hoped that Boomer was right. He'd just about run out of ideas, and Baltar's alarm was practically flying out of his pocket.

  Torn, Apollo stood not far from the totally dead, black Tylium banks, looking around for any sign of Koren.

  "Frack!" he swore, and set off in the direction of the Celestial Chamber. He had no idea where to look next, and he might as well search along the way to find Baltar and get him back under control.

  "Do you know who I am?" the small man in the worn, dark blue cloak asked Koren.

  Koren shook his head.

  "You don't like Apollo much, do you?" the man asked.