Battlestar Galactica-05-Paradis

by Richard Hatch

  The old one raised a withered hand and gestured that the formalities were at an end.

  "We are all fragments of the primary consciousness," he said. "We know who our visitors are and how much they lack in understanding. We have exercised responsibility toward this world and toward ourselves."

  He stopped speaking. The others waited for him to resume. Patience was the greatest virtue in a dream hut.

  The elder, weary from staying afloat so long in the seas of time, resumed. "It is too soon to judge these beings," he said. "They are proud of their weapons but they show no strong inclination to use the projectiles or the exploding chemicals or the energy beams against us. We know better than they the dangers they carry with them."

  "We know what to think of their technologies," thundered the second oldest present. "We know what to think of their spaceships! They carry cold, metal spaceships in their souls."

  "You are restless," said the elder. "Open your spirit eye and go on a quest to the center. There you will see that these people are your brothers."

  Murmurings of assent informed the second oldest that he had overstepped the bounds of propriety. He bowed his head, not from weariness but from the moment of shame he allowed himself to feel.

  The elder raised his hand again and all present waited for his last word on the subject of this meeting.

  "To use the old word, the hated word, we must admit that there are technologies beyond what are visitors understand. They think we are children. That is good because we see how they treat us when they think the choices of life and death are in their hands alone. But we will have to speak to their councils and do this soon. They must be reminded that they are guests. They have plans to build where they should not."

  The ancient Gamon closed his eyes, indicating that the meeting was over. The others broke the circle and left the hut. The red sun was hanging low in the sky as Yarto felt a cool breeze against his face.

  He thought of Apollo and Gar'Tokk. They were both good men. But the Noman would be best to intercede between the Gamon and the Colonials when the time came.

  And the time was drawing near.

  As Baltar faced his first class, he experienced the same feeling of dread from the night before when he'd had an especially bad dream about Lucifer. The myriad flashing lights left the cogitator's transparent head and started crawling up and down his arms as if they were so many lightning bugs. Then they started to sting. As he attempted to brush them off, his arms began to bleed. He'd awakened in a cold sweat, still brushing nightmare bugs from his body. He was not grateful to have to face a class of suspicious students well versed in the worst possible slanders and libels against him. Basically, they had been told the truth.

  He saw a sea of young faces. What a perverse irony that he was teaching a class in ethics and history, more specifically about the abuse of power in government and how to maintain a moral compass under extreme stress and temptation. Apollo, Athena and Tigh must have been using a newly discovered psychedelic drug when they had hatched this job for him.

  "Baltar, you are the expert in what not to do," Tigh had pontificated when Baltar's new position was made official. "As part of your redemption you can discuss strategies and tactics from all directions, the practical and the moral."

  They were in space during that conversation. But his first class was being held on the planet, on the very day when huge celebrations were also scheduled.

  It was a beautiful day, birds were singing—and Baltar felt sick to his stomach. He'd rather be back on the battlestar he had tried so many times to seize. Already he missed the drone of the great engines, the antiseptic air, the sturdy metal ceilings flowing into the gray expanse of wall and corridor. The claustrophobia so many felt had never touched him.

  As the consummate politician, he'd always been able to tap into the angst of people. That didn't mean he had to feel the emotions himself. A young ensign with the improbable name of Greenbean had once told Baltar that he was a natural contrarian who would always take the opposite position from the majority. The funny thing was that the assertion wasn't really true. From an early age, Baltar realized that he was wired differently from other people.

  Even now the essence of his difference was brought home to him. Isolated in his room aboard the Galactica, he did not feel alone. But here, in front of a room of thirty fellow beings he felt his loneliness like a knife to the heart. It was easier to ignore the fact that he was unloved when the only face he saw was his own reflection.

  Right now the last face he wanted to see was the one appearing at the door. Boomer had an easy confidence that always got on Baltar's nerves. Even more than Starbuck, Boomer never seemed to take Baltar seriously.

  Boomer was the last person he wanted sitting in on his first class.

  "Mind if I audit your lecture?" he asked.

  Baltar smiled grimly. "Wouldn't it be more expedient to hide recording devices so that you people could play it back later?"

  "You people?" Boomer echoed with a smile.

  "Warriors, of course. Naturally I assume you are keeping tabs on me."

  Before Boomer's appearance, some of the students had been bored while most were giving an air of subtle defiance. Now all were united by the prospect of a good fight, if only verbal. Baltar reflected that this was one way of starting off a class with a bang.

  "We assume that you are recording your own lectures," said Boomer amiably. "Knowing you, they will end up for sale one of these days!"

  "Will he sell the answers to test questions?" a girl in the back row wanted to know. The class laughed and Boomer kept on with his infuriating smile.

  Baltar joined in the laughter—which surprised the class and even removed the smile from Boomer's face. The natural tactician in Baltar took over. Maybe he wasn't thrilled with the idea of a pedagogical career but he was always smart enough to make the best of a bad situation. If he didn't seize control right now he might as well call it quits.

  Baltar was not a quitter.

  He nodded at the female student. "If I sell you the test answers, young lady, I guarantee you that they won't be the correct answers!"

  Now the collective laughter was on his side. He looked at Boomer whose expression could no longer be read.

  "Why, that's terrible," said the girl, mortified.

  "Exactly," was his response. "If you are going to cheat your classmates, why should they have any sympathy if you're caught?"

  "Welcome to a class in ethics," said Boomer.

  "And strategy," Baltar added.

  Boomer decided to retreat from the field but not without firing a final shot. "In the past, I was hijacked by this man. Maybe he'll communicate better with you students since he's not holding you here at the point of a blaster. All of you should pay close attention—but take what he says with a grain of salt. Oh, and by the way, professor, you are under supervision."

  "Will you tell us about the time you hijacked Boomer?" asked a red-haired boy.

  Still watching the swinging door marking Boomer's exit, Baltar almost enjoyed the situation. "If you're a good boy," he answered. "I wonder which of you 'students' will pull the plug on me if I go too far! I guess the only way to find out is to proceed."

  "May I ask a question?" asked a short girl in the middle of the class, holding up her hand.

  "As you are the first student to observe protocol, I'd be delighted to answer you. From now on the rest of you students should follow her example and raise your hands before speaking."

  "Well," began the girl, a bit flustered now that she had everyone's attention. "The big celebrations are tonight and I was sort of wondering how early we might be excused."

  "I'm on your side," he said to everyone's surprise. "We've been busy little drones getting this planet in shape, and although we've only gotten ourselves a tentative foothold, it is sufficient for some good parties. So how about this? I'll give a brief lecture and ask you one question to think about before we reconvene tomorrow. You won't have to write a paper
. I just want you to think."

  Naturally the students jumped at the deal, little realizing how hard he would be on them tomorrow when he made each and every one of them stand in front of their classmates and speak extemporaneously. He'd make certain that they would have preferred written homework before assigning plenty of that. In the future, the class would improve their negotiating skills.

  He kept his promise. For an opening lecture in an advanced course, the speech was relatively short.

  "My critics would have it that my criminal career began before the unfortunate miscalculation with the Cylons. You see, before that exercise in failed diplomacy, I explored the vagaries of the black market when cornering the market in our all-important fuel, tylium. Which means that I learned a lot about economics.

  "The problem with most warriors—and I am fully aware that some of you are already well on that path—is that they fail to understand the economic causes of armed conflict. Even when facing a foe as implacable as the Cylons, it is wise to remember the basic laws underlying the actions of all sentient beings. To ignore that, is to construct an ethical system in a vacuum. And the only thing you should construct in a vacuum is a spaceship!

  "When peace was first proposed, I couldn't believe it was possible for either side so I sought to gain some advantage for those closest to me. We will discuss in later classes why I put myself forth as one of the most dedicated advocates of peace. It was a strategy that failed utterly. You've all heard the stories and could probably do papers on my crimes or treason, or whatever you prefer to call it.

  "But my point is more general and applicable to many situations. After a thousand yahren of war, all of us had forgotten how to operate in a civilian or peacetime economy. Now we have the opportunity on this new planet to try and relearn something from our dim past.

  "We had to build up a heavy debt-servicing system of loans to pay for the machineries of war. All of our space travel was part of war expenditure. Our advances in science and technology were driven by the same grim requirements of defense—which is always a euphemism for the power to attack. I do not say that humanity had any other choice when the Cylons were dedicated to our absolute destruction. Ignoring this last fact was the great crime of the Council that only Commander Adama had the foresight to oppose."

  That last bit of patriotism brought the students out of the trance the lecture had put them in. They applauded. Baltar availed himself of the opportunity to drink a glass of water. He was starting to develop another of his killing headaches. Their severity seemed directly linked to his nightmares. He felt like his head was about to split wide open and cursed himself for not having brought medicine with him.

  The only good thing was the water. He had to admit that the water of Paradis was better than the recycled fluid passing for fresh water on a spaceship.

  He continued. "Here is the point I am trying to make. If peace had occurred, and we had remained on our home worlds, we would have been plunged into the greatest depression in the history of our species. I do not bring this up as a mitigating circumstance to excuse my actions. I freely admit that it was not a primary consideration at the time. But now that we face the possibility of creating a peacetime economy on this planet, we must do some hard thinking.

  "What do we do with the warriors while we are here? Quite obviously they do not intend for us to stay indefinitely. But how much preparation can go into plans for leaving Paradis, as opposed to effort expended on staying? Right now it may seem that Paradis offers more than enough natural resources to support civilian needs and the warriors' secondary economy. But that's assuming a static population model. Remember that we lost a lot of people during the last grueling twenty-five yahren.

  "Now the people have a chance to do what comes naturally. They can reproduce and produce. They can feed and need. As the population increases, how many will be civilians and how many warriors? And as the population increases, how will that affect plans for the space armada that Apollo, I'm sure, will insist on constructing?

  "In days to come, there will be growing conflicts between those who wish to stay and those who wish to leave. The economy will have trouble sustaining both visions, no matter how rich this planet is in resources. And remember that a growing population is the most dynamic, fluid and unpredictable force in the universe."

  The students were in a trance again, except for a handful. He assumed that one of those special students who wasn't bored was probably the spy who was keeping an eye on him. On the other hand, Baltar had such a devious mind that it occurred to him that the spy might be such a good actor that he or she was pretending to be one of the bored students.

  He decided to speed up the short lecture. The pain in his head had transformed from a fire into a dull ache. He had to lie down somewhere.

  "Now I'm going to shift the topic, only slightly, to ask you the question I want you to ponder while you are attending the celebration tonight. Tools greatly define human behavior. Give a man a hammer and he's more likely to build than bash in his neighbor's head. Give a man a fully armed Viper and he may use it for something other than sightseeing.

  "So ask yourselves why in our long journey across the universe we haven't taken full advantage of the technologies and energies at our command. We have a space-drive that works, the same as the Cylons. So instead of leap-frogging from one planet to another, why haven't we used the raw materials of any old solar system to create a world for ourselves instead of involving ourselves with the petty squabbles of different planets. Why do we even consider the quest for Earth, assuming such a place even exists or ever did?

  "Consider our tools and vast energies, apply a practical economic model, and the question becomes why not build a world with all the elbow room we could ever need? If we can secure sufficient supplies of tylium from Paradis, we have a third choice between staying here and continuing the quest for Earth. The trouble is that the Council would never consider such a proposal. Is it ethical to ignore all the options when the choices are life and death?

  "We could simply find ourselves an asteroid belt in one of the solar systems we're certain to stumble upon. That would make the job easier because the raw materials we'd need are just floating around and begging to be used. We could build a giant factory in space. Then we ask for the services of a good scientist like Dr. Salig, for example. I believe among his specialties is a working knowledge of magneto-hydrodynamics. He knows about magnetic fields and volatile gases. He's the cook to throw together interesting ingredients in a vacuum.

  "We can build, boys and girls. We can extract the raw materials from a moon or even a planet if we can't find the handy-dandy asteroids. Every metal we want is available in unlimited quantities and then we build to any dimensions we desire.

  "I'm describing an architectural plan that would never cross the mind of someone as unimaginative as our head architect, what's-his-name—"

  "Ryis," volunteered the blonde girl who had wanted to purchase the test answers.

  "Yes, thank you."

  He took a deep breath and finished his glass of water, appreciating yet again the quality of the stuff. A gorgeous yellow insect flitted past the window that had been installed in the classroom. He thought to himself there was something to be said for planets if you were in the right mood.

  A hand went up and he recognized the student: "Excuse me, sir, but what does this have to do with ethics?"

  He let his impatience out of its cage. "Is it ethical for a superior mind to humble itself before ungrateful peons?"

  No sooner were the words spoken than his paranoia asserted itself and he scanned the students, looking for the spy in his class planted there to make sure that Baltar didn't corrupt any minds. But if such a person were present, the teacher couldn't make out who it was.

  "Allow me to rephrase that last remark. Abuses of government can come from decisions not made as well as made! In the course of the class, we will discuss the importance of values and how a human being chooses his core beliefs. But rig
ht now, let's consider my question for tomorrow. Why is the proposal I put forth not likely to be taken up by the Council?"

  They stared at him, some of their mouths open but no words coming forth. One thing was certain. They wouldn't be bored in Baltar's class.

  Chapter Six

  There were advantages to high-tech not always appreciated by either its advocates or critics. A case in point was the entertainment a battlestar could generate. Ever since the unbelievable energies released by a tylium explosion had been controlled and tunneled into energy transducers, the stars had become the domain of humanity. Life was changed in many subtle ways. All sorts of things were taken for granted that could barely have been imagined beforehand.

  For example, there was the fireworks display celebrating the arrival on Paradis. To the adults there was nothing special about what could be accomplished with concentrated plasma bursts combined with three dimensional holographic imagery, but they were in the mood to enjoy it as part of their long anticipated celebration. The Nomen made a point of never being impressed. The Gamon didn't even bother watching.

  But for thirteen year old Koren, Apollo's newly adopted son, every second was a thrill and a wonder. He watched Apollo holding hands with Cassie. They felt some of what he did, but the display was not foremost in their thoughts. They had other things on their minds.

  He was at that age when he understood adulthood as a new world opening; but he was also smart enough to realize that he lost something in the transition. He saw a light in other kids that didn't shine from adult eyes.

  And yet there was still another kind of light. It existed between Apollo and Cassie. They kept whispering about something important. Koren didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what it meant when Cassie would take Apollo's hand and place it on her stomach.

  There was just a little extra roundness that hadn't been there a month ago.