The Gamon was prepared. She communicated to Sheba with sign language. Then she smiled. Sheba had doubted that craggy, worn face was capable of a smile. She smiled back. That would have to suffice as a "thank you."
The woman gestured for Sheba to follow her. Her warrior instincts nudged her to be wary—she'd been in too much danger in her life to take anything on face value. One moment all could be splendid and the next it was time to rack up a body count.
But Sheba wasn't a paranoid or a sociopath. The odds were that everything was as it seemed. She bet on the best outcome and reflected that she enjoyed an inner peace that someone like Baltar could never enjoy.
The woman led her over a hill and into a small valley. The trek was brief and that was good because Sheba felt a little wobbly. The crash landing must have affected her more than she realized.
When she saw the cave, there was a moment of alarm. But her guide patted her arm and encouraged her to follow. Inside the cave there was a smoldering torch, which the native took from its wall socket.
Suddenly there was the sound of shouts in the distance and the woman gestured for Sheba to be silent. The woman used her free hand to make a chopping sign, a universal symbol of aggression.
Sheba nodded. It was only a matter of time, she supposed, before they would meet Gamon who were more savage than the ones with whom they made first contact. She felt disappointed, hoping that Paradis had somehow beaten the rules of the universe and produced a completely safe and sane humanoid population.
Of course, she didn't know about the killings encouraged by Ryis. If she had, Sheba might have wondered if that crime had produced a disturbance in the force that held these natives together. Maybe the honeymoon was over.
The Gamon woman led Sheba deeper into the cave. Several hundred steps later another light flickered in the distance. Artificial light! And then Sheba heard a familiar voice.
"Troy!" she cried out. The Native woman made no move to stop her. They were deep enough in the cave that the war party outside couldn't hear them.
"Sheba!" He was just as excited to see her.
The others were there—and alive!
They sat and talked. They brought each other up to date as best they could. Troy examined Sheba's eyes to make sure that she didn't have a concussion.
"Who is this Gamon?" Sheba finally asked. "Why is she helping us?"
"That's what Dalton said when she first showed up," said Trays. "We were searching for food and she saved us from a war party. We don't know why she's been helping us but we aren't going to give her a hard time about it."
"I didn't think we'd ever have a problem like this on Paradis," said Sheba. "Hiding out from Gamon."
"Neither did I," said Troy. "I thought the Gamon were all one big happy family. Maybe we've found the poor cousins."
"Then how could they have the power to knock out our Vipers?" Rhaya wanted to know.
"They couldn't," said Sheba. "There must be another answer."
"There is," volunteered Dalton, holding up some of the metal fragments they'd found in the cave. "These are the product of advanced technology. We must have flown into some kind of radiation field. But whatever it is, nothing showed on our scanners before our power vanished."
"We have a mystery," said Troy.
Suddenly, Dalton groaned and fell back. Sheba held her in her arms. "What's wrong?"
"She's really hurt," said Rhaya. "We didn't realize how badly at first."
Before they could attend to Dalton, the native woman grunted. They weren't sure if she could even speak her own tongue—maybe she was mute—but her hearing was more acute than theirs.
The war party was entering the cave.
"I'd hoped that we were inside one of their taboo places," said Troy. "I guess not."
The woman gestured for them to follow.
"We've explored further into the back of this cave," Rhaya told Sheba. "There is a long, flat shelf of rock that descends to several tunnels. We've only gone a short distance into some of them, but the tunnels may go on for miles."
"This is a great time to find out!" said Sheba, taking the other woman's arm.
"Right," said Troy. "Let's move out."
"I'm right behind you," said Trays.
"I'd rather have you in front!"
"In case there's danger?"
"You're getting the idea!"
Despite the danger, they all laughed. Whatever happened, Sheba was glad that she had found them.
They never saw the war party. Whether the Gamon following them simply didn't know which tunnel they had taken or refused to enter them on principle was unimportant. They were safe from the danger behind.
Now all they need do is fear the danger ahead.
The day that Baltar began arguing with his headaches, he decided he would have to talk to someone or go completely crazy. They all thought he was half mad anyway so he could find a sympathetic audience for that particular subject matter.
Then there was the problem of the nightmares. Every time he promised himself they couldn't get any worse he proved himself a liar. The latest kept him awake for a long time because it ended in a cliff-hanger and he didn't want to pick up where he left off.
It began with a spinal chord crawling out of the back of one of the reptilian Cylons. Then a red eye flew out of one of the Centurion heads and grew two legs like a stick figure so that it could ride the spinal chord that had grown legs of its own like a centipede.
This entire grotesque operation was just fine with Baltar if the resulting monster would just leave him alone. He was doing everything he could not to attract the thing's attention.
For one thing, Baltar was only six inches high. That made it very easy to hide in one of the many boxes that were lying open on their sides with their lids askew.
After making certain that it was empty, he crept inside a nice, big red box. He was smart enough to check first because it would be bad to enter a place of refuge only to find out that some hideous creature was there first, waiting for you with crimson maw and evil intent.
The Centurion eye-man riding on the reptilian Cylon spinal chord was coming closer. He could hear the shlurping sound it made as it drew near.
Just to be on the safe side, Baltar reached out tentatively and slowly drew the lid shut on the box. Although this would leave him in the dark, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
How could he know that the red box was a stomach and that closing it would release the digestive juices?
Who would expect that? Or the voices telling him that when the spinal chords and robot eyes stopped fighting and learned to work together, Baltar would be in real trouble? Someone was whispering that civil wars make the strongest monsters.
When bile rose up from his real stomach into his real throat and started choking him, Baltar woke up.
Chapter Twelve
The elder didn't have to be told. He knew of the dire event before it happened. He spent much time in the in-between places. He saw the portents in the blue mist. There were others who spent time in these places. They were old as well, but they were not as old. They did not see as clearly.
The second oldest challenged him. "These newcomers have proven themselves spiritually deficient," he said.
"Too soon to judge them all," he said.
"They are not meant to be part of the consciousness," said his critic who was always impatient. He always ate the largest portion of the dreaming herb.
They often argued about other things besides the newcomers. The second oldest used to think the elder placed too much faith in Yarto. He thought that before Apollo came to Paradis.
They even argued about the consciousness of plants and animals. All this and more were the subjects of the in-between places when the blue mist flowed across their placid brows.
But now there was only one subject: dead Gamon, slain by the construction workers of New Caprica City. The whole idea was unthinkable.
Something would have to be done.
&nb
sp; "Mistakes breed mistakes," said the elder. "We must wait before reaching a final decision."
"You are too patient," the second oldest berated him.
The elder raised a withered hand. "When you learn to travel in time and undo your own mistakes, we will discuss my failings."
A large, black bird screamed outside the dream hut where the Gamon wise men were having their discussion. With a heavy flapping of wings, it flew toward the gibbous moon.
Normally a bird of the day, it flew all night toward the other side of the planet where a handful of Colonials, buried under the ground, looked for answers.
Some might have called it a portent.
The good news for the trapped Colonials was that the Gamon war party did not pursue them into the tunnel selected by their native guide. The bad news was the tunnel.
It had started out all right. They were able to stand up and there was elbow room. When it began to narrow, Troy still had faith in the Gamon woman who led them with such certainty. The others did not feel as confident, especially Rhaya.
When the tunnel narrowed again even Troy began to question the confidence he'd placed in the woman. But what chance did any of them have at that point but to soldier on?
Sheba reminded herself that her first impression of their newfound friend and guide had been negative. The woman had led them this far in safety. But as the tunnel became ever more narrow it was difficult not to worry.
They had abandoned the smoky torch some time ago. They still had their flashlights but Troy rightly suggested they use only one at the front for the native woman who had quickly grasped the function of the item.
Dalton breathed in dust and began coughing. They all stopped and gave her the opportunity to regain her breath. Troy, who was right behind the guide, indicated that she should move forward. That was when the tunnel began to widen again to everyone's relief.
The tunnel let out into an underground cavern of tremendous size. Best of all, the walls provided light by means of a generous growth of luminescent fungus. They came out onto a natural shelf of rock allowing them to stand up and see various paths to the wide floor of the cavern below them.
Again Sheba wished that she could thank their benefactor in some manner other than the sign language they were using.
"I'll go first," Rhaya volunteered. Before the native guide could get her attention, the headstrong girl took a likely route that, unfortunately, was not the best one.
"Oh, no," said Sheba as she saw Rhaya lose her footing a short distance above the cavern floor. Rhaya didn't have far to fall but the tumble was bad enough.
The Gamon woman reached the injured girl first, with Sheba and Troy in close pursuit.
"I'm an idiot," said Rhaya and no one contradicted her.
"Let me check that," said Sheba, closely examining the scrapes and bruises. "You don't seem to have broken anything."
"Not from lack of trying," Rhaya continued berating herself. She looked sheepishly over at Dalton. "I was unfair to you," she said about her earlier criticisms.
"Forget it," said Dalton.
"Maybe I was jealous that all the other women around me are hurt in some way and I wanted my piece of male attention."
Troy gently punched her arm. "Ouch!" replied Rhaya.
"Well said," said Trays.
"Are we certain that the, uh, bad Gamon wouldn't follow us in here?" Sheba asked, shifting everyone back to what was really important.
Troy shrugged. "I don't think so," he said. "Our friend hasn't let us down yet. If she wasn't on our side, I think we would have learned that by now!"
"Yeah, but if this isn't taboo for her why would it be taboo for them?" asked Trays.
"I don't have an answer to that," he admitted. "But a lot is going on here that I don't pretend to understand."
As if to underline his point, Dalton crouched down and retrieved something from the ground. She held out her trophy: more of that mysterious metal.
The Gamon woman indicated that they were safe for the moment and should rest for a while. They made camp.
"I want someone guarding the opening of those tunnels," Troy said. "Just in case."
"Right," said Sheba, "and I'll take the first watch."
"Anything to get out of a work detail?" Rhaya asked, but with a big grin. Everyone took the remark the way she had intended. Sheba didn't know it but her presence had worked a miracle on the morale of the small group.
They were all daggit-tired more than they were hungry. They had plenty of water with them, but no food. Sheba was the logical choice for the first watch because she had so recently slept.
Underground, they had no way of knowing night from day. But by the time they were all fit and ready to resume their journey, Sheba assumed it was probably morning outside. She'd decided that she was lucky to have been found by their mute friend at night. If the war party had been around in the day when she crashed they would have probably captured her.
Of course, once they were in the world of the caverns it didn't matter. She couldn't get over the underground light with its blue-green radiance. It was almost like discovering another planet inside of Paradis.
The Gamon woman gestured that they follow her. She definitely had a destination in mind. On this trip there was only one direction and that was forward.
Dalton discovered the first bone. She was still on the lookout for more pieces of metal and that's why she reached down for the small gray object.
"It's only a rock," she said.
"No—it's a petrified bone," said Troy, kneeling down to join the investigation.
"That's nothing," said Trays who had gone ahead with the guide. His voice drifted back from around a bend in the cavern wall. "You won't believe this."
Rushing to join him, they weren't disappointed.
Spread out before them was a forest of petrified bones, all white and gray in the perpetual twilight. But the bones were the least of the spectacle.
Beyond them was a large graveyard of the last objects they'd expected to find on this world—spaceships! Everywhere they saw the remnants of destroyed craft of advanced design. There wasn't an aircraft among them. Veterans of battlestars would recognize a ship made for interstellar travel if they only had a knob or lever to work with. Spread out for their delectation was a feast of wrecked hulls and disintegrated thrusters.
"What the frack happened on this planet?" Troy wanted to know.
The tour wasn't over. The Gamon woman ran on ahead, gesturing that they follow. They did.
Beyond the line of smashed ships it was easier to see the main point of interest as far as their guide was concerned.
"I don't believe it," whispered Sheba.
Before them, making a mute confession of the hubris and tragedy of an advanced culture, was the wreck of a great city. Compared to what it must have been in its great days of glory, New Caprica City was a joke.
The Gamon walked over to Sheba and surprised her by reaching out and touching the younger woman's forehead with her rough and callused hands. A telepathic link was established with the clarity and suddenness of an electric shock.
Mental images flooded into the daughter of Cain. She'd never experienced anything this vivid. She caught her breath as she saw and heard everything that Gamon woman wanted them to know.
"Are you all right?" Troy asked when the contact was broken. The old native left them and began searching through the ruins for mushrooms and other edibles that might grow in this vast cavern.
"There was a great war," Sheba began as if in a trance. "The entire planet was consumed by flames. Millions died. It seems that her people are the descendants of that world."
Sheba still seemed to be seeing the pictures that had been implanted in her brain. Troy helped her sit down as the others gathered around to hear.
"How can this be?" Trays seemed to ask the universe at large. "The civilization on Paradis is so primitive, if you can even call it a civilization."
Sheba blinked a few times and saw th
e others. She took a deep breath and answered. "I'm beginning to understand. They made a decision, all of them. They decided never again to follow the path of their forefathers. They decided to live simple and peaceful lives."
"Peaceful?" Trays mocked the idea. "Tell that to the war party that was hunting us."
Sheba continued. "Our small piece of the story can distract us from seeing the whole picture. The Gamon chose to live without a high level of technology or military weaponry."
"I don't know," Troy wondered aloud. "The ones we've dealt with up to this point seem awfully healthy for such a primitive lifestyle. They don't seem to grow many crops or do much hunting and yet they are well fed. Something is very strange about all this."
"You can say that again," agreed Rhaya.
"Wait a minute!" Dalton chimed in. "We don't know exactly how they manage their lives but Sheba is telling us what they don't do! Just look at the chaos all around us here in this place. Maybe there's something to what they tried to do in banning war and the machines of war."
"That has been their culture for many yahren," said Sheba.
Dalton continued. "And now we arrive with our powerful weapons and so-called civilized society and attempt to alter their world back into the very thing they gave up eons ago! No wonder they resent us."
They were silent for a while, all except the native who was humming a song to herself. She didn't seem to be paying any attention to the Colonial conference.
"They've kept from us how they must really feel," said Troy.
"But Ryis is changing all that," Sheba reminded them.
Troy spat on the ground. "I'm an invader," he said. "Maybe we don't belong here. This is their world and they think we're trying to take over."
Rhaya whistled. That got everyone's attention. "I'm an invader, too," she said. "I just invaded this cave with sound waves. So what? We are taking over! Our people don't want to leave and I don't blame them. We've been on the run for twenty-five yahren. We're tired. Too many have died searching for this so-called mythical planet Earth! I say that we either stay here or go back where we came from and retake our home world from the Cylons!"
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