Battlestar Galactica-05-Paradis

by Richard Hatch

  Back then, it was perfectly natural to manufacture imaginary playmates. The fact that Koren hadn't done that in several yahren was a gentle reminder to anyone paying attention that the lad was returning to an earlier mode of behavior.

  Because the situation was changing right here and now. Anger and impulsive action were replacing patience and contracts. Paradis was no longer a paradise.

  Apollo was steaming after his meeting with Tigh. If someone as intelligent and sane as the president didn't see the need to keep faith with the Gamon, then there wasn't any hope.

  The idea that all their struggle might come to this made him sick to his stomach. There was no reason for people to treat each other like this. There was plenty to go around on Paradis. How had such shortsighted thinking infected people Apollo respected and trusted? Or at least used to trust.

  Even if the planet had limited resources, it would be terribly wrong to do this to a people that had welcomed them with open arms. In retrospect, the Gamon should have done a better job of getting across the notion that certain parts of the planet were off-limits to the Colonials. But then again, Apollo blamed himself for not dealing in a more forthright manner with the issue of a long-term visit on Paradis as opposed to permanent colonization.

  In the beginning, it seemed as if his staunchest allies for not staying permanently were the scientists and their concern for how late in its final stages burned the great red lantern in the sky. Dr. Salik had recently said, "There is nothing more poignant than the death of a star."

  He had been drinking heavily that night. Starbuck, who was also drinking at the same bar, had disagreed. "No, Doc—the true meaning of tragedy is when a gorgeous girl dies. Nothing else can touch that."

  Apollo reflected how odd and special is the human mind that even when stressing over the largest possible issues of life and death, the personal is never far away. Memory is the culprit, never leaving you alone.

  As if to prove his point, at that exact micron Cassie appeared in front of him. He hadn't seen her turn the corner. And even though there was tension in her face, he couldn't see anything but her beauty.

  Her reaction to him was also silent. The expression on his face was something she hadn't seen in years. She had forgotten what it was like to see her beauty reflected back at her in the face of a man who had loved her once so intensely, whatever their feelings were for each other in the current circumstances.

  Since delivering her baby, the youthful girl who could mystify any healthy male had returned with a freshness and a glow about her. Her natural perfume made him dizzy with desire. And in one of those moments that seem forever frozen in the eye of the beholder, he drank in every detail of her features as if he were seeing her for the first time.

  She had such delicate features. They could have been painted on a fine, porcelain doll. Everything about her neck and head was flawless. She had the bearing of a princess; she had the same beauty and poise now that she'd ever had before.

  Even her eyebrows were perfect; while the thin, pert nose was a work of art as marvelous as her chin and as sublime as her high but not severe cheekbones. But in this special moment all he could do was stare at her rose-petal mouth and her even, white teeth.

  When his gaze drifted from her sparkling eyes, the spell was broken for her and she started talking. But he was still deeply immersed in the soft embrace of his memories of her and didn't actually listen to the words.

  Then the spell was broken for him as well.

  "Apollo!" He heard that right enough. "What are we going to do?"

  The words almost seemed to connect up with the million worries swirling around inside his head. That was indeed a good question. What could be done about the political situation unraveling and threatening everyone with new flavors of doom?

  He blinked his eyes and it could have been a switch being thrown to jumpstart his brain. Gradually the truth dawned. She wasn't addressing the cosmic issues confronting Paradis. This had to be personal.

  Then a grim spectre in the back of his head seemed to reach forward and force a smile on his lips that he felt lacked his normal sincerity. It seemed to suggest that if what he suspected about her baby turned out to be true, then even the personal between them carried cosmic implications.

  Some days it didn't pay to get out of bed. And some nights it didn't pay to get into bed.

  "The baby?" he asked.

  "The baby," she declared.

  He sighed. "I only have a moment."

  "I accept that," she replied, "but that's all I need."

  He took her by the arm and led her to a small room off the main hall. With one light and one sofa the room seemed ideal for an intimate conversation.

  "Are you going to pull a Starbuck?" she asked, as the door whispered shut.

  "What do you mean?" he asked as a delaying tactic.

  "Are you going to abandon me and our baby?"

  It never ceased to amaze him how women had the almost uncanny power of uniting men when there was any degree of genuine friendship. Apollo had talked himself blue in the face trying to make Starbuck straighten up and fly right, both figuratively and literally. But he couldn't let Cassie go unchallenged when she said such unfair things about his friend.

  Feeling as if he would forever be in a surrealistic menage-a-trois, he defended his comrade against the woman they both loved and who loved both of them.

  "Starbuck never abandoned you," he said. "You must admit the truth to yourself that he never fully committed to you in the first place. He's not capable of that, at least not yet, and you knew that going in!"

  "That's not the point!" she shouted. "I'm asking you, now. You! I want to know the truth. Are you going to be sealed to me, and accept responsibility for being father to your biological child?"

  He hadn't expected this degree of bluntness. The resolve and strength in her voice demanded a reply—more than that, her stunning performance deserved a thoughtful and honest response.

  What to do? He couldn't tell her his suspicions. It would be cruel and unusual punishment, even if he had the proof. There was no way he could tell her everything now, but he had to be as honest as possible with what he did say. She deserved that from him and he intended to deliver.

  "The baby is very special to both of us," he said. "But there are aspects to this situation that you don't understand. The situation is more complicated than you imagine. I need time to think about this before I give you my answer."

  She didn't want to hear that, but she didn't pull away when he took her hand and continued. "Please believe me, Cassie. I truly care about you, more than I have cared about anyone since Serena."

  She gave a slightly sneering laugh. She had spent centons getting in the mood for this confrontation and she didn't want to leave empty-handed, even if she carried the tactile memory of his warm, large hands holding hers.

  She had always loved the feel and touch of his hands.

  "Are you in love with me, Apollo?" she asked simply and softly. "I need to know."

  He hesitated for only a moment and then said, "When I'm ready, I'll give you an answer."

  She wasn't at all happy about this turn of events. But he still had the same power over her he always did. She wanted to believe.

  "I'll be waiting," she said, already wishing she could take a stronger stand. "I'm not a fool, Apollo. I can imagine what it must be like for you now. Our problems might not seem to add up to much, compared to the fate of a whole planet and all the Colonials."

  "Thank you," he said, giving her arm a squeeze and leaning forward to kiss her cheek. He pulled back, comfortable in the knowledge that his smile was as natural as the feelings he had for her.

  She felt better, too. Her smile stayed with him as he walked down the corridor on his way to face stern duties.

  Cassie had come a long way from the days of being a socialator.

  She had walked with her head held high even then. Now she had even more reason as she walked back to where her baby was waiting.r />
  That was the first thing Gar'Tokk noticed about him was that the Gamon child had old eyes. The youngster took the Borellian Noman by the hand and led him into the village.

  Gar'Tokk remembered that Koren had been lamenting his inability to find Native children. He would make a point of telling the lad about this when next he saw him.

  He paused and looked over his shoulder. This village was the nearest to New Caprica City. The gleaming spires in the distance seemed a reproach now that the killing had begun.

  The elder of this village could be a much older twin of Yarto, the one who had done so much to negotiate in good faith with Apollo. But this one was missing an eye. With all his experience of battle, the Noman was surprised to see a wound of this severity on one of the natives. He had seen them either whole and alive or dead from the weapons of the Colonials.

  The Noman and the Gamon came close but did not touch. They both squatted on the ground and remained in that position for a span of time. The thoughts of the elder slowly brushed against the mind of the visitor. They felt something like a cool mist brushing against the furrowed brow of the Noman before seeping inside the large cranium.

  There was nothing personal or individual about this contact. It began as a general sense of well being. Then there was something more. Much more.

  Gar'Tokk had his first inkling of the in-between places. Wherever this elder sat was a focal point. Even though they were not inside a dream hut—restricted to the most accomplished of the Gamon—Gar'Tokk sensed shadows from such a gathering. He could almost perceive the blue mist that filled the chamber when contact between worlds was strongest.

  From his own background, he had a belief in the oneness and the harmony of life. This did not mean there was no death, but rather that death, as everything else, had its proper place and time to maintain harmony.

  Now the sense of well-being shifted. There was wrongful death in Paradis and it was the fault of the Colonials. Without a single word exchanged between them, Gar'Tokk was asked how he could be part of such a discontinuity in the life stream. It was like being lectured by a stern parent. Gar'Tokk was supposed to know better.

  Before true communication could begin, Gar'Tokk had to look deep inside himself and find an answer to the very question he spent so much of his life avoiding. There was no time to put it off any longer. Only by acknowledging his true feelings could he engage in fruitful dialogue.

  Gar'Tokk did not feel genuine sympathy for the Colonials as a whole. But he did empathize with individual Colonials who had won his respect. In contrast, he felt a connectedness to all the Gamon and this suggested to the elder an affinity with the higher consciousness of the Gamon.

  Gar'Tokk also let himself embrace the pain of loss that so few of his people were left and there were no women in the diminishing band. He also shared with the elder his feelings of ambivalence as he found himself so often in an undesirable place between his fellow Nomen and the Colonials.

  All this was spiritual food to the questing soul of the Gamon elder. The old man nodded both with his mind and his head. Truly, Gar'Tokk was the proper choice for this encounter.

  Then they talked about the problems besetting Paradis without ever uttering a word.

  When the initial contact was broken, Gar'Tokk was more exhausted than he had been since the last time he'd fought in battle. The difference was that this was a pleasant tiredness, suspending the body and mind in a kind of limbo where one felt that if no extra exertion were made one could stay awake forever.

  As Gar'Tokk rose to his feet, he saw that he had company. Commander Apollo had arrived, brought by the same child into the circle of the meeting.

  "You are finally here," Gar'Tokk grunted, adjusting back to the uncomfortable practice of speaking with mouth and tongue.

  "Yes, I'm sorry. I had matters to attend to. May I ask what you were doing just now?"

  GarTokk tilted his head, an unusually expressive gesture for him. "I was communicating with the elder."

  "But you weren't speaking," said Apollo.

  "This level of telepathic communication is new for me. Mind to mind speaking is an ancient ability that my people rarely use any longer, but the Gamon are well versed in these abilities."

  "This is not the first time you have used telepathy here."

  "No, but never in my life have I experienced anything quite like this."

  Apollo nodded. "Then we may accomplish something today. Does the elder desire communication with me?"

  Both Gar'Tokk and Apollo received the same mental force of an affirmative answer. All the long evenings the commander had sought his inner light made a difference in this situation. The alien communication came into his head along with a subtle compliment, a bit of surprise that this human being could hear at all.

  Gar'Tokk was asked to speak for the Gamon, even as the strength of the telepathic communication increased in Apollo's mind. "The Gamon are concerned, my friend," Gar'Tokk said, "that the Colonials have never asked permission to establish a full colony of this planet. That was not the bargain you first struck with Yarto and the other representatives of Paradis."

  "I know," said Apollo. There was a buzzing in his head as the telepathic messages tried to break through.

  "More serious is the killing of Gamon by Ryis's men at New Caprica City. There was no provocation."

  "There is no excuse for it," Apollo agreed.

  Suddenly the buzzing in his head resolved into identifiable words. They felt like bursts of cool air soothing his mind. They were a cure for a pain he hadn't even noticed that he had. Maybe this was the cure for headaches that Baltar sought so desperately.

  But the content of the words was not soothing:

  Your people are rude and without any manners.

  "Please accept my apologies,"was all that Apollo could think to say at the moment. "We have wronged all of you and are willing to take whatever measures you feel are necessary for our people to stay."

  You say this when many of your leaders declare war against us.

  "It's not too late to reverse this swift march toward disaster. We have been struggling to survive in space for too long, obsessed with our own concerns and challenges. We have forgotten how to treat other civilizations with respect. What measures can we take to rectify the situation, other than pulling back the engines of war?"

  Although the elder only had but one good eye, it was lustrous black and seemed to see through everyone and everything. Again his telepathic words struck home in Apollo's brain.

  The killings have made the situation more serious. The threats of your Council promise worse to come. At this point, nothing will suffice but that you cease building New Caprica City. You must return to completing the reconstruction and repair of your fleet as soon as possible. You may stay only as long as required to complete the task. Then you and your people must leave. The last time a culture such as yours visited our world we made the mistake of inviting them to stay. The result was horror that cannot be forgotten and never forgiven.

  There was so much to take in that Apollo couldn't respond for a long, silent moment. He heard the heavy breathing of Gar'Tokk to his right and that detail of normal life helped him concentrate on the matter at hand.

  "May I ask what culture came before? If we knew, it might help with reorienting my people for the task ahead."

  Was that a hint of a smile he saw around the corners of the elder's mouth?

  You are a good representative of your people, but most of your race is very different. The Gamon will not be infected by their vices, Apollo. Your people's contempt for this planet is unacceptable. Their technology and culture cannot be allowed here, except temporarily. Our discussion is at an end.

  "What if the Colonials refuse to leave?" Apollo asked. It seemed like a reasonable question. The answer was unexpected.

  You will have no choice.

  The complete absence of fear emanating from the elder was disconcerting. Didn't he realize that the very technology he decried a
ssured the victory of the Colonials if diplomacy failed?

  Then the old man did an even more surprising thing. He walked over to GarTokk and placed a withered hand on the Noman's heart. This was one time when Gar'Tokk did not mind being touched.

  The elder repeated the action with Apollo, then slowly and silently moved back into the village.

  The two friends left. For a long time they could not think of anything to say. Apollo broke the silence at last.

  "Did you notice there was a child there?"

  "Yes," said Gar'Tokk.

  "I'll tell Koren about that."

  "A good idea."

  More silence. Then Gar'Tokk said, "As we left, the elder sent me a last telepathic message."

  "If it's private, perhaps I shouldn't hear it," suggested Apollo.

  "It is for you, but I was asked to be the bearer. He told me that when your race matures, you may find the Gamon again one day."

  "An odd thing to say when we haven't even left this planet yet. I'm still trying to understand what he meant when he said that we have no choice about leaving Paradis."

  Gar'Tokk stroked his beard thoughtfully. "My advice is that you trust your spirit to guide you."

  Apollo shrugged. "May the Lords of Kobol guide us all."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Deep under the surface of Paradis, a handful of humans and their Gamon guide continued to explore a new world. Natural light from the walls of a gigantic cavern poured down on their weary heads. For those with the curiosity to look up, gigantic designs were visible on the roof of the enormous cavern that no human or native could have possibly placed there.

  For those ready to study mysteries closer to home, the ruins surrounding the small band of adventurers provided a lifetime's study. What happened to devastate such a great metropolis? How had the skeletal remains ended up here?

  But for Troy none of these mysteries mattered at the moment. The quest he wished to undertake required the latitude and longitude of one person. Rhaya was missing.

  "Where the hell is she?" he demanded of his companions. "Doesn't she have the sense not to go wandering off alone in a place like this?"