troubles had forced the memory of Zac's death to the back of his mind.
Continuing troubles had a way of doing that. He wondered, too, if the
improvement he perceived in Apollo was at all attributable to the charms
of that lovely newswoman, Serina, or the way she had directed his
attention to the troubled boy, Boxey.
Athena sprang into the room as if she'd been crouching by the
doorway, awaiting Apollo's exit. She had a copy of the three pilots'
orders clutched in her fist.
"Father," she said, "I can't believe you're doing this. Why
couldn't you have listened to the others, gone to Dune instead of this
filthy, dangerous place?"
For a moment Adama felt terribly confused. It was difficult to
shift his concentration from the satisfaction over his son's confidence
to this new disturbance from his other child.
"What is it, Athena?"
"You're taking such an awful chance with their lives."
"Of course. They know that. They could back out without blame, you
know that."
"Ah, damn, Starbuck's too much of a fool to back out of a dangerous
mission."
Adama was beginning to understand the source of her rage.
"It's Starbuck you're worrying about, is it?"
Her shoulders sagged suddenly, as all the rage seemed to go out of
her in a rush.
"It's not just that, Father. I'm worried about Apollo, too---you
know that. And Boomer. It's just that----I don't know what it is."
"You love Starbuck and you're naturally..."
"I hate that..."
Another surprise. Adama took Athena in his arms and asked her what
was wrong. Holding back her tears, she told him about the discovery of
Starbuck and Cassiopeia making love in the launching tubes.
"So you have to fight for your young man," Adama said. "That's not
so hard. You're a fighter. I'm proud of your courage and your..."
"Oh, shut up, Father. That's not what I want to hear. I'm just, I
don't know, very disturbed, and I don't know what to think. I used to
think I could cure myself of Starbuck, get a pill out of Life Station or
something and forget about him. But, I don't know, it's this war and the
destruction of the Coloines and this desperate voyage to a place where we
don't know what we'll find. Everything's in a different perspective now.
Hopeless. Everything's been hopeless since---if they survive this, if
any of us survive, what next? Will we find this Earth you claim isn't
myth?"
"Perhaps not."
"I was thinking that. We could grow old waiting. I mean we may
never have the chance, the chance to...to..."
"To form permanent relationships, have children and a home?"
"Yes."
"You know, I think it's a bit early for you to be worrying about
your prime of life. I, on the other hand, should give a great deal of
thought to this voyage. When we reassemble the fleet and my resignation
as president of the council takes effect finally, then I..."
"Get that idea right out of your head. You're not going to resign.
You have to lead them. You're all that's left."
"We're rehashing an old argument, which is not to the point right
now."
Athena hugged her father. She had not done that so spontaneously in
some time, and he was happy to feel the tension between them alleviate.
"Thanks for consoling me," she said.
"Just returning the favor. Remember when you had to console your
old Father."
"I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn."
"You're allowed it."
After Athena had left, Adama sat alone for a long time, thinking
about the conversations with Apollo and Athena, satisfied that---whatever
their arguments with him---at least they were on his side.
*****
As Starbuck waited for launch signal, his ship vibrated under him,
as eager to get into action as he was. In his mind he went over Tigh's
final briefing. All they had been able to discern through the scanners
was that there were at least three types of mines in the field. There
was the normal explosive type, which could blast to smithereens any ship
that came into contact with it, plus any other craft within a micron's
radius. A second kind seemed more instrumsent than weapon. It had
electronic equipment all over its surface, and nobody aboard the
Galactica had ever seen any mine like it, if indeed it was a mine. The
third type created the most trouble. Rather than exploding, it sent off
flashes of light whose intensity was so concentrated they would blind
anyone unlucky enough to set it off. Because of that danger, the three
pilots had to fly the mission with their cockpits darkened and treated
with a chemical to ward off the ray. Fine, Starbuck thought, if that had
been the only kind of mine. But the chemical protection that opaque the
cockpit made it necessary for them to fly blind against all the mines,
relying on their scanners to locate targets. In combat Starbuck liked
this kind of seat-of-the-pants flying, but not in a suicidal
mine-detecting mission.
Tigh's voice came over the communicator, asking his pilots if they
were ready.
"Ready," Boomer's sturdy voice said.
"I'm ready," came the cool sound of Apollo. "What about you,
Starbuck?"
"I'm not ready. But let's get it over with anyway."
A short, tense pause,then the launch light came on and the three
ships catapulted into space. Forming a neat triangular formation, they
headed for the minefield. In the short interval lof time it took to
reach the field, Starbuck said a silent prayer to the goddess Luck,
wishing her continued good health and a return of the favor.
"I'm going in for preliminary scouting," Apollo said.
"Good luck," said Boomer and Starbuck simultaneously.
"Don't jinx me with good wishes," Apollo said, laughter in his
voice. "All right, I'm going to make a sweep by the nearest
thingama---oh my God!"
"Apollo!" Starbuck yelled. "What's wrong?"
There was an agonizing wait for an answer.
"I found out what the mysterious mines were. They're not mines at
all, not really. They're electronic jammers. Soon as I got near that
one, everything in this bird started going haywire, including the
controls. I was able to wrest back command of the controls and jerk the
Viper out of its range, otherwise, I think I'd've been sucked in and
then, I don't know, probably then it explodes. Come in carefully, you
guys."
Starbuck flew in slowly, keeping most of his attention on the
scanner, so he cold avoid the jamming mines. Boomer came in directly
behind him.
"Hey, Boomer," Starbuck said, "don't slipstream me."
"Shows how much you know. There is no slipstream capability in
spacecraft, which..."
"I know, I know. We got to stop you memorizing those manuals in
your bunk. I
was just using a figure of speech and you gave me Academy
lectures. I mean, get out on your own."
"I'm just trying to cash in on your luck, Bucko."
"My luck has decidedly changed lately."
On the scanner one of the light mines was activated near the form of
Apollo's starfighter.
"You all right, Apollo?" Starbuck said.
"I'm fine. They were right about darkening the cockpit, though.
I'd be blind now. Though I feel like I'm blind as it is. I can't see
much. My scanner's doing an irregular skip. And it's getting hot, very
hot. I'm veering off. Anybody make out anything else on their scanner
about this field?"
"Negative," Starbuck said. "My scanner's burning out."
"Mine's history," Boomer said.
"I was afraid of that. The jamming's playing havoc with our
instruments. We shoulda stayed in bed."
"A little late for that, I'd say," Starbuck said. "What do we do?"
"Only one thing I can think of, fellas, and it's not exactly the
best Academy procedure. Seems to me we've gone by the book as long as
it's feasible. Our only chance is to haul off, hold positions and blast
away."
"You mean run a path right thorugh the minefield?" Starbuck said.
"With our scanners out of whack and our cockpits dark?"
"Does it sound difficult to you, Starbuck?"
"Oh, no. Duck soup. The nuts. Easy as pie."
"What if we miss a mine?" Boomer said.
"One of us'll be the first to know it. You with me?"
"I'm with you,' Boomer said.
"I'm with you, too," Starbuck ssaid.
"Let's fly!" Apollo said.
*****
On the bridge of the Galactica, Adama and Tigh listened to the
communications among the three ships avidly. When Apollo proposed
running a path through the minefield, Tigh looked panicked.
"Shall I tell them to abort the mission, sir?" he asked Adama.
"We can't. Apollo has full authority."
"But we've got to stop him. This is too reckless a..."
"Colonel, there's no way we can stoop him. Not only is it essential
that we get our ships through the minefield, Apollo has a great deal to
prove."
"What does he prove by killing himself?"
Adamas shrugged, resigning from the argument. The truth was two
painful to admit. Apollo might just like to kill himself in the middle
of a bold heroic exploit; it would at least prove to others that he was
not, after all, the vassal to his father's tyrant-king, doing Adama's
bidding in a vast plot to deceive everybody.
Everybody watched the massive screen at the top of the console
silently as the three sleek, delta-winged ships angled through the
minefield, which was now brightly lit by two activated light-mines. The
three pilots were firing everything they had, and with stunning accuracy.
Mine after mine exploded and disappeared. Suddenly, when it became clear
that Apollo's foolhardy plan was going to work, a cheer went up among the
bridge crew.
"I don't know what to say, Commander," Tigh said. "They're clearing
the path!"
"Now that's precision flying," Athena said from her post, smiling at
her father. It was one of his phrases, and she meant it affectionately.
Starbuck's voice came over the communicator:
"I can't see a blessed thing. Are we hitting anything?"
"Be hanged if I know," Apollo said. "But it's cooling off. I do
believe we made it."
"Yaaaaaaahooooooo!" screamed Boomer.
Then all their voices chattered together, and the exuberance of
their three young heroes buoyed up the spirits of everyone on the
Galactica.
*****
Since the fleet of human survivors had disappeared, activity aboard
the Cylon base ships had declined, leaving Imperious Leader more time for
speculation about the minor failures within his otherwise enormously
successful plan. He knew there could not be many human ships left, yet
where were they? If the Cylon culture had had any inclination toward
proverbs, they might have felt they were looking for a needle in a
haystack---although haystacks were nonexistent on Cylon worlds, where
grotesque livestock were fed blocks of nutritive substances through an
osmotic process, and where needles had no point, literally and
figuratively.
Had the humans worked up some kind of force-field camouflage?
Imperious Leader's spy network had discovered clues that they had such a
capability, and he had ordered his experts to develop anti-camouflage
devices. He had not had a transmission from them since.
The leader was not so much disturbed by the technology causing the
humans' disappearance as by the fact that they continued to keep out of
sight. Baltar had recently told him that a human was never so confident
as when he had his back to the wall. A pompous outcry of arrogance, of
course, no more than could be expected from the smug human traitor, but
still a troublesome concept. The image, especially, bothered the leader.
A Cylon arranged matters so that his back was never against a wall. He
either plunged forward to his death or emerged victorious. There was
little middle ground. But humans were always finding middle grounds.
Curious.
A message came along the network from an executive officer. Some
explosions had been registered near Carillon's Lot. Evidently some mines
set in the protective field around the planet had been set off or had
malfunctioned. On occasion that minefield caught and eliminated space
pirates who had heard rumors about Carillon's Lot. Whether the humans
had anything to do with the present series of explosions was debatable.
However, the Leader ordered intense surveillance, because of the
importance of the Tylium mining complex there. In all the years of the
war the humans had not discovered that Carillon's Lot was a prime source
of fuel supply for their enemy. Nevertheless, a sneak trip to Carillon's
Lot might be exactly what the devious Adama might be attempting now.
This war with the humans must end once and for all, the Leader
thought. It had gone on too long, used up too much of Cylon resources.
He wished to get back to the proper business of his leadership---to seek
out the cracks and flaws in the unity and organization of his own race,
to make the concepts of peace and order the synonyms they should be.
Even now, in some Cylon worlds, the human practice of monogamy had been
communicated to certain sectors of the population, and they were busy
practicing it. Monogamy went against the basic concepts of the network
of Cylon civilization, where it was vital that every Cylon attempt and
complete as many forms or degrees of contact as possible. Monogamy
contained in its disagreeable structure too many forms and degrees of
limited contact, a state Imperious Leader could not abide, and he vowed
to severely punish those Cylons practicing it when he could afford to
devote
attention to domestic matters again.
He ordered his executive officers to keep him well-informed with any
clue that might suggest the invisible fleet's whereabouts. There would
be no more middle grounds---not with the surviving humans.
*****
After preliminary scanning by a scouting patrol of Red Squadron
Vipers, the livery ships were cleared to land. It was considered
essential to provide the animals with some grazing and eating room. The
livery ship officers had reported an increased listlessness in their
animals, one which seemed to be caused by somethimg ore than just the
limited rations available to feed them.
The farming ships landed soon after, and took immediate advantage of
Carillon's Lot's fertile soil, whose texture and mineral content
indicated a fine medium for the planting of accelerated-growth
foodstuffs. At the same time, the agro-workers collected as much grazing
material from the Carillon's Lot surface as they could and transplanted
it to the meadows inside the livery ships.
While Carillon's Lot was proving exceptionally fruitful for
livestock and farming, it didn't impress some of its human visitors.
Especially Boomer and Starbuck, who had been dispatched to the dark side
of the planet to investigate mining possibilities.
"I'll be sure to come here on my next furlong," Boomer commented.
"I just adore monotonous landscapes."
"Yes, it's lovely," Starbuck said. "Can't imagine why it isn't
overpopulated."
A pilot on a Viper flyby informed them that his scanners read life
forms in an area a short distance from where Boomer and Starbuck were
driving in their landram. Boomer broadcast the specified time check to
the main expeditionary force, and announced they would investigate the
life-form report. Starbuck accelerated the landarm and headed for the
area its pilot had indicated.
"If this place is so bloomin' rich in resources, how come it was
abandoned in the first place?"
Starbuck shrugged.
"Legend has it the mining and colonization groups both got spooked
and pulled out. By who, or what, no one knows. Probably that's just a
story, though. Looks to me like the planet was just too drab. In those
days sources of supply were plentiful, plus it's off the normal space
lanes, to I suppose Carillon's Lot was just written off as a bad
investment."
"Then why's the old man think it's such a good investment now?"
"It's the only investment, Boomer, that's what he'd tell you."
"Yeah, he does have a talent for finality, the commander does."
"Yes---hey, will you look at that? That glow over the hill? Any
idea what it is?"