Battlestar Galactica 7 - War Of The Gods

by Glen A. Larson

  "I know that he cares," said Sheba.

  "For you?"

  "For all of us. And if I have to explain it to you, you're less sensitive than I thought."

  She walked away from them, obviously annoyed. Apollo shook his head in bewilderment.

  "She thinks I'm insensitive," he said, trying to run it through again and make some sort of sense out of it. He wasn't succeeding.

  "You?" said Starbuck. "If she thinks you're insensitive, where does that leave me?"

  Adama was sitting behind his desk, his elbows on the desktop, hands clasped before his chin. He watched Count Iblis intently. The stranger was seated across the room, before the observation port.

  "I am eternally grateful to you for delivering me from my enemies," said Count Iblis.

  "Tell me about your enemies," Adama said.

  "They are infinite," Iblis replied. "They are everywhere. And they are relentless."

  Adama nodded. "I know a little about that kind of enemy myself," he said. "But their name . . . What are they called? Where are they from?"

  The look on Count Iblis' face was cold. He seemed to seethe with internal fire.

  "Forgive my passion," he said, "my inability to communicate with you. But there are things which you might not understand."

  "You'd be surprised, Count Iblis," said Adama. "I'm quite a bright fella when given a chance."

  Iblis smiled.

  "Yes, of course. Forgive me. Of course you are. And generous, too, to stop for one more survivor. Precisely why I am not sure that it would be wise to burden you with my fight."

  "I don't mean to suggest that we can take on any more enemies than we already have," Adama said, "but perhaps we are already fighting a common foe."

  "There are great and infinitely more dangerous powers in the universe than your Cylons," Iblis said. "And all their allies combined."

  The expression on Adama's face was grave as he considered the import of Iblis' words.

  "You see?" said Count Iblis. "Already I have alarmed you. Now allow me to bring you a more optimistic piece of news. You are searching for a place called Earth."

  "My son told you that?" said Adama.

  "Not exactly," Iblis replied, "but you are of the House of Kobol. Your tribes are scattered. The thirteenth journeyed to Earth several millenniums ago."

  "Then they are there," said Adama, leaning forward. "Tell me about their civilization."

  "It has known great rises and falls," said Iblis.

  "And now?" Adama said. "Now they are strong? Can they help us in our fight against the Cylon Empire?"

  "Your people will be safe under my leadership."

  Adama frowned. "Did I understand you correctly? Did you say under your leadership?"

  "Of course, Adama. Why do you think I am here? I have come to prepare your way to Earth."

  FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:

  Despite all precautions, word of the mysterious stranger who calls himself Count Iblis has swept throughout the fleet. His promises are giving our people the first real hope they've had in a quarter yahren. Still, his presence, his unwillingness to submit to routine medical procedures leaves me with grave doubts about the integrity of his mind or his ability to deliver on his promises.

  One more disappointment in the lives of our poor, beleaguered survivors might spell the end of our journey or my ability to maintain order. Still, the possibility of hope cannot be dismissed lightly.

  Many questions still remain. Who is Count Iblis, if that is truly his name? What is he? He seems, to all external appearances, to be human, as are we, yet how is it possible for one human being to possess infinite knowledge of the universe, as he claims? Where is he from? What is the nature of the enemy that pursues him? Who are they? What is the basis of their conflict? Iblis remains a puzzle, a strange enigma.

  On the one hand, it would seem a fairly simple matter to insist that my questions be answered. I could demand that he submit to examination, that he cease giving evasive, enigmatic answers to all my queries. I could force him. Yet, that possibility brings up yet another question.

  What if his claims are not exaggerated? What if he really can deliver what he promises?

  If Iblis can, indeed, bring us to Earth, it would be the answer to all our prayers. We have been searching, blindly, following an ancient trail, not even sure that our path is the correct one. Do I have the right to risk the future of every man, woman and child in the fleet simply because I have my doubts about Count Iblis? Have all these yahrens of fighting made me overly distrustful and suspicious?

  I must also consider the fact that Count Iblis could be suspicious of us. He claims to be from another world, from another time. From his words, it would seem that he is from a culture far in advance of ours. Would not such a culture suspect barbarian primitives, as we would seem to them? He has told me that the fleet would be safe under his leadership. Part of me regards that as an arrogant threat, yet another part of me admits another, much more astonishing possibility.

  Count Iblis says that he knows where Earth is, that he has been there. Suppose, just suppose, that Count Iblis is from Earth. Could it not be possible, if their culture is so far ahead of ours, that they would have some means of probing across vast distances of space, of learning of our presence? Could they not possess ships vastly superior to our own?

  What if they sent Count Iblis ahead as an advance scout, to feel us out, to find out what our intentions were, what sort of people we are? We never did find any trace of the recon patrol commanded by Bojay. There is, of course, the sad possibility that they have met their fate. There is an even more incredible possibility, that they were captured by a ship from Earth, that they are being studied at this very moment . . .

  What am I saying? I'm becoming carried away by wild flights of fancy. But it could be possible. I cannot dismiss even the wildest speculation in this case.

  If Iblis were to be examined, it would prove conclusively if he were of our kind. But Iblis will not allow it. And I cannot insist. At this point, I dare not. Never before has the weight of my responsibility lain as heavily on my shoulders. For the present, I feel helpless. All that I can do is watch and wait. But I cannot help but wonder . . .

  Who is he? And what are his intentions?

  CHAPTER THREE

  In the life station aboard the Battlestar Galactica, Doctor Salik felt besieged by Starbuck and Apollo. The most exasperating thing for him was that he had no answers to give them. He was as puzzled by the situation as were they.

  "Look," Apollo said, "we have all kinds of portable scanners. Surely you can get close enough to him to get a simple respiratory probe?"

  "You could try that as well as I," said Salik, wearily. "It's a simple matter to get a reading."

  "Yes," said Starbuck, "but—"

  "But it didn't work," said Salik, cutting him off. He was growing tired of being badgered for things that didn't work, that weren't his fault. "I sent two of my best technicians to get close to him. They returned to me with broken scanners. I even sent Cassiopeia."

  "When all of our latest technology fails," Cassiopeia said, trying to lighten the tone in an effort to take some of the heat off Salik, "we resort to blatant feminine wiles."

  "What happened?" said Starbuck.

  "I think he's the most charming man I've ever met," she said.

  "Oh, that's just wonderful!"

  "That's on the outside," she said. "But I can't tell you a thing about what's going on behind that beautiful smile."

  "Maybe you didn't get close enough to get a good scan on him," Apollo offered.

  "Maybe we should discuss this without Starbuck around," Cassiopeia said.

  "Hey," said Starbuck, "it was all in the line of duty. Wasn't it?"

  She shrugged. "I'd be lying if I told you that I wasn't impressed by him. There's something unbelievably compelling about Count Iblis. I was absolutely charmed. But I also came back with an empty tape."

  She handed Starbuck a thin strip of silver
mylar that she pulled out of the scanner. Starbuck held it up and squinted at it.

  "What are you talking about, empty?" he said. "This heart rate is dancing around like a Cylon scanner!"

  Cassiopeia looked slightly sheepish.

  "That's my pulse rate," she said. "This is his." She used a thin silver stylus to indicate the appropriate track.

  "A straight line!" said Starbuck. "You really got to him!"

  Salik shook his head and sighed in exasperation. He took the tape away from Starbuck, as if taking something away from a child because it was too young to play with it.

  "It's not Cassiopeia," he said. "It's the equipment. Either it's defective or . . . or he operates on some other wave length." He spread his hands out to his sides, then let them drop back down limply, "I don't know," he said. "I've never seen anything like it."

  "There is another possibility," said Apollo thoughtfully. "That Count Iblis has some way of jamming our instruments. Doctor . . . is there any chance that this man . . . however handsome and charming," he added with an arch glance at Cassiopeia, "is there any chance that he could be an android?"

  "You mean some sort of machine, designed to look in every way like a man and programmed for certain response mechanisms?" said Salik.

  "Exactly."

  "Well, our own bio-robotics institutes were well advanced in that science, but I'm not the one to talk to. Doctor Wilker would be your best expert on that subject."

  "I think a trip to the drone lab is in order," said Apollo.

  "I'm with you," Starbuck said. "Let's go."

  The shuttle had taken them to the Agro Ship, an old supply tanker so decrepit that even its name was unknown. When it had been commandeered during the mad flight from Caprica, the refugees were in no situation to pick and choose. No one had been able to read either its name or numerical designation, so worn was its hull. Its logbook could not be found and the spacers who refitted it en route as best they could from whatever parts were available and from whatever they could cobble up were, as many of their breed, superstitious about renaming a ship. It came to be known simply as the Agro Ship, which described its primary function, that of supplying the fleet with food for its journey.

  Its massive cargo holds had been converted into crude but functional greenhouse domes that were miles across. Besides serving as an agricultural plant for the fleet's galleys, the ship also served to provide a much needed link for the refugees with the verdant worlds they had left behind.

  Sheba and Count Iblis strolled through a domed forest. The trees grew thick and tall, lovingly cared for by the laborers quartered in the lower decks of the Agro Ship. It was almost possible to believe that they were not on a ship, but walking through a leafy forest back on Caprica. It was the last bit of home that they had been able to take with them when they left their ravaged worlds behind.

  "Isn't it lovely here?" said Sheba.

  "A veritable garden," Count Iblis said.

  "We brought a few of everything we could in the time that we had," said Sheba. "We had no idea what we could expect to find on Earth."

  Iblis moved up to a tree and leaned against it, staring up at the dome, through which the stars were visible.

  "What can we expect to find on Earth?" said Sheba, looking at him eagerly.

  He smiled. "What do you wish to find?"

  "A civilization strong enough to fight back against the Cylons," she said.

  "Ah, that's not the quest which truly burns closest to your heart," said Count Iblis.

  "Of course it is," she said, protesting. "It's what we all want. How would you know?"

  "I know you," Iblis said softly. "I can feel you. And I am at this moment closer to your soul than any man has ever been." His eyes glittered as he gazed at her. Something deep within them seemed to burn. "Apollo is in your thoughts," he said, "but there is something . . . someone else even more important."

  He reached out and took Sheba's hands, pulling her gently closer to him. She looked confused.

  "You're unlike anyone I've ever met," she said.

  "Think, Sheba," said Count Iblis. "Think with your soul and I will tell you your heart's desire. Ah, yes. Yes, of course. I should have known sooner. I will bring you together."

  "With whom?"

  "Why, your father, of course. The legendary Commander Cain. The Juggernaut who roams the stars. You will see him again."

  "How could you possibly know what I'm feeling?" Sheba said, her voice little more than a whisper.

  His eyes blazed at her.

  "All people are capable of feeling one another's thoughts," he said. "It merely takes a little time and experience. Place your trust in me and I promise you, all things will become possible."

  Sheba found that it was becoming difficult to breathe. Her lips felt dry. She moistened them with her tongue. Count Iblis pulled her closer. She swallowed hard and raised her face to his. He leaned down and kissed her lingeringly on the lips. She felt his lips part and, it seemed to her, almost involuntarily, her tongue entered his mouth. It felt like she was burning. She felt his arms go around her, pressing her body up against his. She went limp.

  An old farmer who worked the Agro Ship entered the small clearing where they stood. They didn't notice him. He watched them for a moment, smiled, thought briefly about his youth, then disappeared once again into the trees, not wishing to intrude upon the couple.

  A bright light suddenly illuminated Count Iblis and Sheba. She felt its warmth, even through the fire that she burned with.

  They looked up.

  A swarm of white hot lights raced across the blackness, outshining the stars.

  "What is it?" Sheba whispered, staring up through the dome at the swirling lights that moved with astonishing speed. "What are they?"

  "Don't be frightened," said Count Iblis. She felt his arms tighten around her. "They cannot hurt you as long as you're with me."

  "Those lights," she whispered, hypnotized by their white hot glow, "they're truly beautiful . . ."

  "Don't be beguiled," said Count Iblis, a hard edge to his voice. "They taunt you with a glow that conceals everlasting darkness. Look away, Sheba."

  She buried her head against his chest.

  "How horrid . . ."

  "Yes, but you are safe with me," said Iblis. He was smiling. "They cannot touch you, so long as I am inside you."

  On the bridge of the Galactica, there was a flurry of activity as the lights appeared. They raced past the ship, around it, swirling like a tornado of supernovas. Adama raced onto the bridge, having seen them through the observation port in his quarters.

  "What is it?"

  Tigh was staring at his scanners. He shook his head.

  "We don't know, sir," he said. "There's not a thing on any of our scanners, nothing at all. Not a blessed thing!"

  "That's not exactly accurate, Colonel," said Athena. "They're here. They're just not here long enough for us to get a reading on them."

  "They must be traveling at speeds beyond . . . beyond . . ." Tigh was at a loss for words.

  "Yes, Colonel," said Adama, staring out the massive observation port at the white objects flashing across space and curling back around the Galactica, "beyond our comprehension."

  "Commander," Rigel said, looking up from the scanners, "we're getting distress calls from every ship in the fleet. People are panicking."

  "Put me on uni-com," said Adama.

  "Uni-com activated."

  "Attention, attention, this is Commander Adama to all ships in the fleet. Please maintain communication silence. I repeat, please maintain communication silence. There is no cause for alarm. The . . . ships . . . or manifestations we are encountering do not appear to be in any way hostile. Only by keeping the communication circuits free of random signals can we hope to utilize the full potential of our scanners. Blue Squadron, scramble precautionary intercept."

  Starbuck and Apollo were in the drone lab, speaking with Doctor Wilker when the alert came on.

  "Yes, it
is possible to construct a lifelike android that would be most difficult to tell from a real human," Wilker was saying, "but there are ways of telling—"

  The claxon began to sound.

  "Not now, Doc," said Apollo. He started running for the door. "We'll be right back," he called over his shoulder.

  "We hope," Starbuck added.

  As they ran down the corridor toward the launch tubes, other pilots in Blue Squadron joined them.

  "What is it?" Starbuck asked Boomer as they ran down the corridor together.

  "Nothing like anything you've ever seen before," said Boomer.

  Four of the Vipers in Blue Squadron had already launched by the time Starbuck, Boomer and Apollo arrived in the launch bay. They raced for their ships.

  Greenbean and Brie were in wing formation as they piloted their Viper fighters toward the lambent intruders.

  "Bris, do you see what I see?" said Greenbean.

  "I'm afraid I do," came the reply over the helmet com-circuit.

  "I don't know what the hell those things are," said Greenbean, "but I aim to find out. This is one time I'm going to beat Apollo to the point. Full power and let's go after them!"

  They hit their engines, giving the ships everything they had as they took off in pursuit of the white hot lights that seemed to hover ahead of them. Suddenly their targets streaked away so quickly that they seemed to vanish.

  "What the . . . Where'd they go?" said Brie. "They simply vanished!"

  "No," said Greenbean, awed by what he had seen. "They just left us standing virtually still compared to their speed. I've never seen anything like it!"

  "So what do we do? Pursue or turn back?"

  "Pursue what?" said Greenbean. "There's nothing on my scanner. I—"

  At that moment, Greenbean's cockpit was bathed in an eerie white light. He turned to look behind him, since there was nothing on his scanner to explain the phenomenon. Just behind and above the four Viper fighters, an immense ship appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Greenbean cringed involuntarily. It felt as if a planet were falling down upon them, so massive was the alien ship. Before any of the pilots could react, they felt a sudden, piercing pain as if their bodies were all simultaneously grabbed by some giant fist and squeezed. The pressure was unbearable. Greenbean heard Brie start screaming just before he blacked out.