Battlestar Galactica-05-Paradis

by Richard Hatch

  There seemed to be a little tension between Apollo and Starbuck at the beginning of the day, but whatever the problem they were soon into the mutual project. Koren liked cooperation.

  They carried scanning devices to check the ground for minerals and made notes about abandoned materials from dismantled spaceships that had not been used for construction. Boomer complained that he was having some trouble with his equipment, something about the readings being inconsistent. Apollo and Starbuck agreed that maybe all their equipment could use an overhaul.

  Around noon they stopped to have a meal on a hilltop.

  They had a perfect view of how construction was proceeding with New Caprica. Koren enjoyed looking at the giant city taking shape until his companions started complaining about it. He almost blurted out that he thought the city was as wonderful as a battlestar but decided to keep his mouth shut and listen. How else could he learn to be a proper warrior?

  Starbuck shook his head and complained about how Ryis always got his way. Boomer complained that the Council of Twelve hadn't even taken a vote. Apollo mainly listened, the same as Koren, but finally had his say.

  "What concerns me is the Gamon. Look!"

  A great number of the planet's inhabitants were forming a circle around the city. Apollo had never seen that many natives in one place before.

  "Gosh," said Koren, finally contributing to the discussion.

  "I think we better get down there," he said.

  "Yeah," agreed Starbuck. "Wish we had our Vipers on this hike."

  "We'll just have to launch ourselves," said Boomer.

  "I won't hold you back!" promised Koren, who started running.

  "Hold on, Koren," said Apollo reaching out and grabbing the boy. "A broken leg won't help."

  They proceeded at a reasonable pace. The Gamon weren't going anywhere.

  When they finally arrived, Apollo looked for any sign of his Gamon friend. Despite the usual jokes about not being able to tell the natives apart, Apollo never had any problems distinguishing individuals. Unfortunately, he did not recognize any Gamon in this crowd.

  "Look!" shouted Koren. "It's Gar'Tokk."

  The big Noman had taken down his hood and approached. He was stroking his beard, a mannerism Apollo had never seen before.

  "Is this serious?" asked Apollo.

  Gar'Tokk nodded. "Ryis never talked to Yarto or any other Gamon before expanding his building project. They say the construction has expanded to the point where it violates sacred ground. Especially the mountain!"

  Koren wondered why adults didn't communicate better with each other. He remembered back to the conflict between Jinkrat and Apollo. The boy had hated warriors before he got to know them—and now he wanted nothing more than to be one.

  He hoped this time would be different.

  "I need to see Ryis," said Apollo.

  There was no difficulty passing through the line. The Gamon were not doing anything but bearing silent witness. So far.

  "Do you want us with you?" asked Starbuck.

  "Not this time, old friend. You stay with the others. I need to see Ryis alone."

  The construction elite were very cooperative with the commander. They couldn't hide their nervousness. There was none of the usual bureaucratic delay. Apollo appreciated how the presence of the natives must have finally gotten the attention of even an egomaniac like Ryis.

  But no sooner did he enter the man's office than he had his doubts again.

  "Glad you're here, Commander," said the architect getting up from behind his desk and extending his hand in greeting. "You've got to stop your bottleneck."

  "What?" demanded Apollo.

  "You are holding up our supplies. I'm falling behind schedule."

  Apollo was seething. "We aren't receiving our quotas of building materials and tylium, which we need for our repairs and to rebuild the fleet."

  Ryis shook his head and put on a patronizing smile. "Aren't you a bit confused? We have been ordered to direct what limited materials are available toward the building of the new city."

  Was the man insane? Apollo thought he'd experienced every kind of human folly, but this was something new. "We'll talk about this later, Ryis. We have an emergency to deal with right now."

  "Oh, you mean the natives?" asked the architect, voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's not my problem—it's yours."

  "We'll see about that."

  "There's nothing to argue about, Commander. These Gamon told us this is sacred ground. Well, in a way they're right. The energy readings are off the scale and the quality of tylium ore is beyond compare. I'm going to call the mountain we're digging into Kobol Mound. So we shouldn't be arguing over how to divide up scarce resources when we're about to hit the mother lode!"

  "I'll speak to the Council," said Apollo tersely.

  "A waste of time," Ryis assured him. "They are on my side."

  "We have an agreement with the Gamon," said Apollo.

  "Childish natives! Now please excuse me, Apollo. I have work to do and so have you."

  As Ryis turned away, Apollo said, "You can address me as Commander!"

  Chapter Eight

  Two men sat on a metal platform that had once been part of a small family spaceship and watched the ocean waves of Paradis. Pieces of the ship had been used to build a resources station on the coast. Now the station manager and his best engineer sat on their shiny platform and watched the red sun grow huge as it slid down to the horizon.

  The station extracted drinking water from the salty ocean. It separated out useful minerals from the brine and collected them in tubes. It stored up energy from the restless energy of the tides. And finally, it sent out small robot probes to look for sources of tylium in the vast regions lying under the sea.

  Regarding the all important fuel, the manager who was bald and short had a few words: "They've found a fabulous source in that mountain."

  "Yeah, I know," said the engineer who was tall and had a head of bright yellow hair.

  "Want a smoke?" asked his boss.

  "Sure."

  Two fumarellos were produced, lit up and enjoyed. They didn't speak until their smokes were half finished. Then the manager pointed at a piece of equipment outlined in the last light of the day.

  "You like the new magnalift?"

  "Yeah. You installed it while I was away."

  "State of the art. It's made of saligium. Thank the Lords of Kobol we didn't lose it."

  "What do you mean?"

  The bald man had small spectacles that caught the light of the setting sun as he turned his head toward his companion. For a micron the younger man thought he was seeing the oscillating red dot of a Cylon.

  "We've kept it hushed up but we had a little sea monster problem here."

  "You've got to be kidding? A monster?"

  "Yeah. For the first time since we set up this little plant we needed the services of warriors."

  "Did they show?"

  The manager chuckled. "For all the good it did us. Have I ever told you how much I hate warriors?"

  The other man inhaled the salt air and let it out again. He was the kind of guy who liked to avoid trouble. When a controversy started he always found it expedient to hold his tongue. There was no percentage in choosing the wrong side. The more people got all wound up the better it was to play it safe.

  On the other hand, it wasn't a good idea to act disinterested in the opinions of one's superior. The boss was an important man with a direct line to Ryis. So there was no harm in playing up to him a little—especially when there were no warriors in the general vicinity.

  "I guess we all have problems with them," he said. "It just goes with being civilians."

  The manager deep a deep drag on his fumarello and let out the smoke in a thin stream between a gap in his teeth. "Those problems may finally come to an end. You mark my words. We won't have to put up with those mucoid bastards forever. They think they'll get us back into space so they can boss us around again, but Ryis has othe
r ideas."

  The engineer concentrated on his own smoke for a while. He would enjoy the scenery and the cool breeze coming off the sea if he hadn't suddenly found himself embroiled in politics.

  "You were going to tell me about a sea monster?" he reminded the boss.

  "Yeah, it was the damndest thing I've ever seen. It was more like a spaceship than a living thing, a long snaking black tube where you couldn't tell the front from the back. That is, you couldn't tell until the tentacles came out! It picked one of the men right off the magnalift and ate him. We were plenty nervous."

  "I'm glad I missed it."

  The manager slapped the engineer on the back and guffawed. "You don't know the half of it. If it could came that close to gobble up one of us there was a serious danger it could damage the equipment! So I wasted no time calling for some Vipers. Well, that was my mistake."

  "What do you mean?"

  The boss threw the unsmoked portion of his fumarello into the ocean. The other man watched with a certain sense of melancholy to see the glowing ember disappear into the dark water. He hated waste.

  "They sent us three helmheads."

  "I've never heard that expression," the other admitted.

  "You know, the pilots wear helms. Anyway, I keep records of everything that goes on when I'm in charge of a job. There were two women and one man, all young punks. The only good use of young people is as socialators, as far as I'm concerned."

  The engineer had always suspected that his boss was something of a bigot but had no idea that the man's hatred ran so deep. "So, who were they?" he asked, still interested in the story.

  "The male was named Troy. One of the females was named Dalton. I didn't get the other's name because the others just kept calling her cadet. Anyway, I told all three what happened and they took statements from some of the other men. Then the one named Troy took his Viper and flew out a little ways over the sea, looking for signs or whatever. I was left on the shore and overheard the women. You'll never believe what they were arguing about."

  "I wouldn't venture a guess."

  "Which female warrior was going to bed the male! I kid you not. This is what they're talking about, not the dead member of our crew, not the new danger that's been discovered. I take back what I said about them being sociolators. Warriors don't rise to that level."

  The engineer felt uncomfortable and couldn't keep his next words from slipping out. "Well, you were eavesdropping on a private conversation. I mean, it's not like they could do much until they found the monster, right?"

  The manager wasn't annoyed at being challenged. "You'd think that, wouldn't you? But just wait, it gets better. I'll admit I was being pretty low myself, listening in. But when the one named Dalton finally got tired of telling the other bitch to keep her hands off Troy, you'll never believe what they argued about next! Instead of discussing the problem right in front of their noses, the sea monster, they got into some weird nostalgia trip about how the new cadet flew a mission aboard the Pegasus when the ship was destroyed in the battle of Kobol."

  The engineer whistled. "You got all that?"

  "Well, I wrote it down."

  "Why?"

  The manager reached into a box by his side and produced a bottle of grog. He poured two stiff ones before continuing.

  "You want to know why?" he echoed the other man. "Because things are going to be different from now on. We have no idea what information may be useful to Ryis when he's making his case before the Council. Today's gossip is tomorrow's weapon. The next war is going to be against the warriors!"

  That was going too far, even for someone who tried to avoid controversy. "That's felgercarb! You make it sound like the warriors are as bad as the Cylons."

  The little bald man was drinking more than his companion and had less body mass. He was getting drunk and couldn't seem to stop his expressions of treason. "On this planet, they may be the closest thing to Cylons we'll ever see. Ever wonder why that frackin war went on for so many eons? If the Cylons hadn't existed, I think the warriors would have invented them."

  "You're drunk," the other observed.

  The manager put his arm around the taller man. "Yeah, I'll shut up. You never know just who you can trust nowadays. But don't worry, I won't keep tabs on you. You're not a slaggin' warrior."

  The sun had set and the artificial lights came on automatically. The engineer wanted to finish his drink and leave. But he was still curious. "What happened about the monster?"

  The other laughed. "Nothing! They said they'd report to the Council.

  They weren't about to use all that precious firepower just 'cause one of us was slowly digesting in a monster's stomach or intestine or whatever it's got."

  "Well, how could they target something they didn't find?" The manager seemed to sober up at that point. "Use your head. They could tear up the sea bottom around here. They could kill everything for miles. The result would either kill the giant whatsit or drive it away. But why should they bother when it's only our lives at stake?"

  The other man swallowed hard. "You have a point. But I heard we made a deal with the Gamon that we would respect the local flora and fauna as much as possible."

  "Oh, please don't make me throw up," blustered the manager. "Come to think of it, that's not a bad idea." He dropped his empty glass, went to the edge of the metal dock and began spewing into the sea.

  When he finished, he sat down right at the edge, facing the engineer.

  "Isn't that dangerous?" asked the more sober of the duo.

  "What?"

  "You're so near the edge."

  "Just good planning. If my gorge becomes buoyant again, I'm right where I need to be. I'll turn my head and add my fluids to the great briny deep."

  This evening wasn't going at all well. "So the sea monster is still out there?"

  "The ocean is big, my friend, and the thing is out there. Do you know the last thing I heard the warriors arguing about when Troy had rejoined the ladies?"

  "No, although I'd rather hear more about the monster."

  "There's nothing more to say on that. Nobody cares. It's probably some big honking pet of the Gamon. Anyhow, the last thing I heard Troy, Dalton and the new female cadet discussing was not how to make this planet safer but rather they discussed at great and boring length who is the better Viper pilot!" The manager laughed and laughed, then he started to hiccup. The engineer got up to offer assistance but the little man waved him off. He held his breath until the hiccups subsided.

  "I hate them," he said, finally regaining his composure. "I hate them more than the monster and more than the frackin' natives. I hate them more than the stupid bureaucrats who are always late with our supplies but expect us to get our work done on time whether we eat or starve!"

  "I feel the same way sometimes," the engineer admitted, "but the problem may solve itself sooner than you think. I hear rumors, too. People talk. The warriors are having trouble maintaining discipline among the fleet. Recruiting is down. The majority of the older warriors who have survived the last three battles want to retire to civilian life. Some of them no longer see a need for a military career. It sounds like our crew of workers would do a better job of handling this sea monster if we only had the weapons ourselves."

  "Once a warrior always a warrior," muttered the boss, head beginning to droop. "I don't trust 'em as workers, technicians or craftsmen. With a lot of training and discipline, they might make it as socialators, the girls I mean."

  The engineer made a move to pull the intoxicated manager away from the precipice but again the boss waved him off. It wouldn't do any good to try and grab the drunk and be responsible for him falling into the sea. On the other hand, it wouldn't be right to leave a man in this condition.

  The engineer always prided himself on being able to solve problems. He sat down on the dock and simply waited for the manager to fall asleep. If the man fell backward, he'd grab him in time. If the man fell forward, not a problem—he could be dragged to safety.

>   The moon came out and cast light on the waiting game. At first the engineer was glad for the illumination. But only at first.

  The silvery moonlight made it very easy to see the long, black tentacle reaching up, almost tentatively before it wrapped around the manager's waist. The surprise on the bald man's face must have exactly mirrored the expression on the engineer's. What made the whole event so exquisitely terrible was that it occurred in total silence. The victim was too surprised to scream.

  In the wink of an eye, the little man was pulled into the sea. Even the splash wasn't very loud. When the engineer began to scream, the sound of his voice in his own ears was the loudest thing in the universe. He caught himself and had the presence of mind to look over the lip of the abyss. Below, a great, dark shape ululated in the dim light of the evening. It was as if the ocean itself had risen up to devour the manager.

  The engineer ran from the platform to the shore and kept running. He had one thought as company—he'd have to tell a warrior what had happened.

  The trouble with most of the warriors' critics was that they forgot the subject of their ire was human. That was something the Cylons never forgot.

  Apollo felt very human as he walked out of Ryis's office. Despite the anger that cloaked him, he still exuded authority. One of the civilian workers dared approach him even though he could sense the barely contained rage.

  One micron later Apollo was glad the man had dared to speak up. Apollo promised he'd look into the man's complaint and continued on his search for his comrades.

  Gar'Tokk, Starbuck, Boomer and Koren were also looking for him so their reunion didn't take long.

  "What happened?" Starbuck asked.

  "Ryis is a fool," said Apollo. "But we have another problem. One of the architect's men tells me their instruments are all fouled up."

  Boomer gave a low whistle. "Same as ours. What is going on?"

  "I intend to find out," announced Apollo. "First I need to contact Athena aboard the Daedelus."