Battlestar Galactica 7 - War Of The Gods

by Glen A. Larson

  He walked with Sheba through the "streets" of the city, passing children playing stick ram, an old woman weaving cloth, groups of men whose voices dropped to whispers at the sight of the female warrior and her white-clad companion.

  As they passed, an old woman peered out from behind a cloth partition that gave some semblance of privacy to her pathetic cubicle.

  "The people in these large freighters have fashioned dwellings for themselves as best they could," Sheba was saying, "but there is a constant shortage of materials and first priority must, unfortunately, go not to the living quarters but to the maintenance of ships and life support systems."

  "It's appalling," said Count Iblis.

  "Who asked you?" the old woman shouted at him.

  "Please," said Sheba, looking at the woman kindly, "don't be rude. This man is our friend."

  "Oh, is that so?" the old woman countered, her voice heavy with resentment. "And where is the count staying? What kind of food does he find on his table?"

  "How did you know who—" Sheba began, but she was cut off by one of the men who had detached himself from the group they passed.

  "Everyone has heard of the man who has come to us and talked of miracles," the man said in a challenging tone. "Tell us, Count, what do you do besides take up space and use up rations?"

  "Yes, show us a miracle!" the old woman shouted. "Take my meager rations and multiply them!"

  Count Iblis raised his eyebrows. "Is that all you would have me do?"

  "When you have but a single talon plant to last a secton," the old woman said bitterly, "two such plants would be miracle enough!"

  "Then you shall have two," said Count Iblis. "You shall have two multiplied by all the ships in the fleet if that be one of Adama's wishes."

  "Just the sort of answer to our prayers we might expect," said the old woman scornfully. "We ask for food, we ask for a sign to lead us to Earth, we ask for safety from the Cylons and look what we are given. A madman."

  A crowd had gathered around them, which was growing by the moment.

  "Do not despair, old woman," said Count Iblis. "Stand tall. Your hunger will be appeased. Your safety and your destiny are assured. I give you my word."

  "Your word! You are as trapped as we are!"

  "I did not come here by chance," said Count Iblis. "Follow me and I will lead you to—"

  "Adama is our leader."

  Count Iblis turned to see Starbuck and Apollo standing among the crowd.

  "Then why has he no compassion for these people?" Count Iblis said in a voice loud enough for all to hear. "They are living like animals."

  "My father doesn't promise what no man can deliver," said Apollo.

  "Your father has but to ask me and these people will have all the food and comforts they desire," said Count Iblis.

  "Then forget Adama," shouted the old woman. "We'll follow you. If you can fill our cauldrons with food, if you can give us more heat, and if you can deliver us to Earth or anyplace else where we can live in peace."

  "And if I do these things," Count Iblis said, "will you follow me?"

  "We'll all follow you," a man shouted, "madman or not!"

  Iblis turned to Apollo and smiled.

  "There, Apollo," he said. "There you have your answer."

  "Count Iblis," said Sheba, "how will you do as you say?"

  He remained silent for a long moment.

  "Go to the Agro Ship," he said finally. "See for yourself."

  A murmur ran through the crowd. Starbuck and Apollo glanced at each other uneasily, then headed back to their shuttle.

  The old farmer moved through the area of strange new growths and gazed about him with wonder. Exotic fruits hung from each tree in rich abundance.

  "I can't explain it," the old farmer said with a tremor in his voice. "The trees have just begun to bloom and multiply overnight."

  Apollo and Starbuck watched as Doctor Wilker moved up to one of the fruiting trees with a sensor device.

  "Apollo, there has to be some rational explanation," Starbuck said, staring at the strange new growths.

  "I want to bring samples of all these fruits and plants back with me to the Galactica," said Doctor Wilker.

  "There has to be some logical explanation for this," Apollo said.

  "Well, I can't give you one," said Wilker. "Something extraordinary has happened here."

  "I'll tell you what it is," the old farmer said reverently. "It's a miracle, that's what it is. A miracle."

  The two pilots walked down the corridor that led to the private quarters of Commander Adama. Apollo was deeply disturbed.

  "Look at it this way," said Starbuck, "something wonderful is happening. We have more food, a guide to help us find our way across the stars. Why are we trying to make something sinister out of it?"

  Apollo stopped and stared at Starbuck, as if not certain of what he heard.

  "Because something inside of me is saying, 'don't trust him.' There's something wrong, Starbuck. I can feel it."

  "I don't suppose it would have anything to do with the liking Sheba has taken to the good count, would it?" said Starbuck.

  "Thanks, friend," said Apollo softly.

  "Hey, I'm sorry," Starbuck said. "I know you better than that. But sometimes we feel things we don't even realize. I mean, we are all human."

  "Not necessarily," Apollo said.

  They reached Adama's quarters and, a moment later, were admitted.

  "Father," said Apollo, "you've got to do something. Count Iblis has everyone convinced that he has supernatural powers."

  Adama looked up from his desk. He looked very weary.

  "What if he has?" Adama said.

  "You don't mean that."

  Adama got up slowly and moved to the star window. He stood silent for a moment, gazing out.

  "Apollo," he said, "we're not alone in the universe. Who knows what manner of life exists out there? Can you assure me that the very Lords of Kobol who founded our civilization did not themselves come from some race which continued to evolve and advance at a far greater speed than our own?"

  "Then why wouldn't they make themselves known to us?" said Starbuck.

  Adama glanced at him. "Maybe they have."

  "Count Iblis?" said Apollo.

  "He could be our first contact with our fathers," said Adama.

  "A parent race that's far in advance of us?" said Starbuck. "That's a frightening thought."

  "Why?" said Adama.

  "Because we'd be powerless to control our own destiny from this point forward if that's true," Starbuck said.

  "I'm not so sure," Adama said. "If you've noticed, Count Iblis has asked us to follow him. He has not commanded it."

  "Maybe that's next," said Apollo.

  "Maybe that's not possible."

  Apollo frowned. "Meaning, we have to submit to him of our own free will?"

  "That's what makes me think he comes from the same roots as our own race," said Adama. "Freedom of choice, to choose between right and wrong has always been the cornerstone of our faith, of our civilization."

  "You make it sound as if Count Iblis is some sort of god, Father."

  Adama nodded, considering his son's words. "Perhaps, in a way, he is. I'm certain that we would appear like gods to a race far more primitive than ourselves. He may be no more than a man, but a man from another time, with great powers and great strengths. But also governed by rules."

  "What are you going to do?" Apollo said. "The people are ready to follow him, whatever he is."

  "He asked me to prepare three tests of his powers," said Adama. "I'm going to do just that."

  Count Iblis entered the reception hall. Seated before him, on a level slightly above that of the rest of the chamber, were twelve men.

  "Count Iblis," said Adama, rising to his feet, "may I present our Council of Twelve? If we are to turn our destiny over to you, it is they who must make the final decision."

  Count Iblis nodded.

  "You have agreed
on three tests of my strength," he said, addressing them all. "The first is to deliver your enemy, the second is to accurately plot your course to Earth. The third . . . the third you cannot agree on. Some of you wish to know who I am and where I come from. Others are satisfied to accept me on the strength of my works and follow blindly provided I guarantee your safety."

  The members of the council were shocked and astonished.

  "There is no way he could have known," said Montrose to the others. "Only now did we voice our choices and put them to a vote!"

  Count Iblis smiled. "You, Sire Edbryn," he said, looking directly at the junior member of the council. "You seem most skeptical of all, with the possible exception of Commander Adama and his son, who escorted me here. Therefore, I am willing to grant your first wish before you have decided on the third. I will deliver your enemy unto you. This very night."

  He walked over to the large star window and gazed out into space intently. The chamber was completely silent.

  Baltar sat brooding in the throne room aboard the Cylon base ship. He looked up as Lucifer entered, gliding silently across the floor.

  "Any further news of these machines?" said Baltar. "These creatures or manifestations or whatever in Kobol's name they are?"

  "Our attack craft are unable to pursue them," Lucifer said. "Whatever they may be, they are too swift for us."

  "Prepare my personal craft and crew," said Baltar.

  "To what end?"

  "Send out a long-range signal, unidirectional, to the Galactica, wherever she is. Notify her that I wish to rendezvous with her. They may send out Viper interceptors to make sure that I come alone under the universal signal of truce."

  "You expect to be treated according to universal law after all you've done to them?" said Lucifer.

  "It is my life that I risk," said Baltar. "Do as I ask."

  "By your command," said Lucifer, gliding backwards out of the chamber.

  Adama stood tensely behind the scanner station next to Colonel Tigh.

  "Bring the fleet to full alert," he said to his executive officer.

  "Yes, sir."

  "What is it, Father?" said Apollo, entering with Starbuck. "What's going on?"

  "We've just received a direct communique from Baltar," said Adama. "He's asked to come aboard the Galactica under the universal sign of truce."

  "Baltar!" said Apollo. "Here! Aboard the ship!"

  "It has to be a trick," said Starbuck. "A ruse to find us and attack. Let me take a squadron out and give him a real hot reception!"

  "It doesn't appear to be a trick," Adama said. "He's coming alone and unescorted. He says he will follow any course directions we might give him, so that he can be intercepted."

  "That's incredible," said Apollo. "You don't think this has anything to do with the promise made by Count Iblis?"

  "I don't know what to think," Adama said.

  "If you ask me," said Starbuck, "it's got everything to do with it. And it's nothing supernatural. This is some kind of plan to get inside our defenses and Baltar and Count Iblis are both working together."

  "The irony of it is that I wish I believed it were that simple," said Adama. "In any case, we will take every precaution. Launch Blue Squadron to bring Baltar aboard."

  FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:

  It was an event unlike anything we'd experienced since the destruction of our civilization. Baltar's ship reached our sector and was immediately intercepted by Apollo's elite squadron, who escorted the treasonous instrument of our holocaust directly into our hands.

  Word spread like sunbursts through every corner of the fleet. It was a jubilation unprecedented as Baltar was brought before the Council of the Twelve.

  It was just as Count Iblis had promised. Our enemy had been delivered unto us.

  It was well known throughout the fleet that Count Iblis said he would submit to three tests we were to impose upon him. Count Iblis had made certain that it was well known. And it was equally well known that the first such feat he promised to perform was to deliver our enemy to us. Was it coincidence? If so, it was an incredible one. And, if it was a coincidence, no one in the fleet seemed to believe it. The people were convinced that Baltar's surrender had been brought about through the powers of Count Iblis. I was not convinced.

  But what if it were true?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Baltar stood in the council chamber, before the assembled Council of the Twelve. Several of them he knew, as they had been the members of the original council whom he had betrayed. These men stared at him with a burning hatred in their eyes. He had come to them once before, speaking on behalf of the Cylon Empire, holding out the hope of peace. Instead, he had brought them death and devastation. The others of the council Baltar did not know, for they had been elected from among the survivors of the holocaust. These men had not seen Baltar before, at least not in the flesh, but each and every one of them knew full well who and what he was. Their hatred of him was no less than that of the few remaining members of the original Council of the Twelve. If looks could kill, then Baltar would have fried upon the spot.

  Sire Montrose was one of those men who knew Baltar from before. He rose from his seat, his face a pale mask of fury.

  "Baltar," he said, struggling to keep his voice under control, "you have been found guilty of treason against the state and in violation of every code of moral and ethical conduct of mankind. It frightens me when I think of what I, personally, would like to do to you, but we are bound by laws. The worst punishment I can mete out to you is, in my opinion, nowhere near harsh enough, but I will be bound by the limit of our laws. You are sentenced to spend the remainder of your life in confinement aboard the prison barge."

  "No!" said Baltar, the color draining from his face. "No, I say, you cannot do this! I came to you under a sign of truce!"

  "As you came before the Council once before, under a sign of truce?" said Montrose. "A Cylon truce?"

  "You need me," Baltar said. "We need each other. There is a power greater than yours, greater than all the Cylon Empire! It will destroy us if we do not unite!"

  "May I address the Council?" said Count Iblis.

  "With the Council's permission," said Montrose. He glanced around at his fellow members. They all nodded their assent.

  Count Iblis rose to his feet and moved to stand in front of Baltar. He looked like some avenging angel in his flowing white robes.

  "Baltar," he said softly, "there is nothing you or your Cylon friends can do to combat the powers of which you speak."

  "What do you know of these powers?" Baltar said. "They defy description."

  Count Iblis smiled. "I know these powers as well as I know you, Baltar."

  The traitor frowned. "You do not know me. Who are you?"

  "I am Count Iblis, and I lead these people from your clutches, just as I led you to surrender to their justice."

  "I came here of my own free will," said Baltar.

  "Just as I bring you to your knees and command you to accept their punishment," said Count Iblis, gazing directly at Baltar with eyes that seemed to blaze.

  Something changed in Baltar's face. He began to shiver, his knees began to buckle. Count Iblis stood before him, smiling slightly. Baltar's face broke out into a sweat as he strained against a power he did not understand. Tears began to stream from his eyes as he sank down to his knees against his will and bowed his head in submission.

  "Remove him," said Adama.

  Two guards came up to Baltar and dragged him from the chamber. He did not understand what had happened to him. There was an expression of fear mixed with confusion on his face. He could not stop weeping.

  "There were two more prerequisites to our bargain," said Count Iblis, turning to face the Council. "One . . . that I would lead you to Earth. The other . . . to be decided amongst you. What is your decision?"

  Sire Edbryn spoke.

  "Count Iblis, what has transpired here is, I am sure, an inspiration to all of us. I ask you to give us time
to consider that which we will propose."

  "I believe that I have already proven myself worthy of your trust," said Count Iblis. "How long will this consideration take?"

  "Not long, Count Iblis. Not long."

  "Very well. It shall be as you wish. I remind you that your people are expectant. Now, they rejoice in the fall of Baltar. But soon, they will expect the journey to Earth to begin. And they know that I can lead them there. When you have decided, you will find me among the people, in celebration. And anticipation."

  His eyes briefly met Adama's before he turned and left the chamber.

  "I believe that we should all join in the celebration," said Sire Montrose. "And I see no reason to delay electing Count Iblis to the presidency of our body. Are there any dissenting votes?"

  "My dear brothers," said Adama, "if I may . . ."

  They all gave him their attention.

  "There are still unanswered questions," said Adama, spreading his arms out to his sides in a gesture of resignation, showing them that he could not understand their desire to act so quickly. "We have warriors who are still missing, probably dead, and a number of disquieting events to be studied. May I suggest an adjournment until tomorrow at this time?"

  "I suppose one day more would not offend Count Iblis," said Sire Montrose. "But tomorrow, we convene under his leadership. Is that agreed?"

  "Barring any disturbing factors to the contrary," said Adama, warily.

  "Fair enough," said Sire Montrose. "The Council of the Twelve stands adjourned."

  Adama was sitting alone in his quarters, thinking. He could not see any way to prevent the Council from giving the leadership of the fleet to Count Iblis and he knew that it was wrong. He felt it in his bones. He was certain that there was something about Count Iblis that none of them were seeing, but he simply did not know how to prevent it. How was it possible to fight against a man who seemed to have supernatural powers? If, indeed, he was a man.