Islands in the Sky

  "You got a problem with it if I do?"

  "No, forget what I said. If there's a game going on, good old

  Starbuck knows about it."

  Starbuck resumed wlaking along the path, heading toward the nearest

  lavish sphere.

  "But this isn't back-room cards!" he said. "This is the biggest

  splash I've seen outside of Orion."

  "But who'd want to set up a gambling resort on an outpost planet?

  Why put something like this together and keep it a secret?"

  "That puzzles me, too. If you don't tell anybody about a place like

  this, you don't do any business."

  As they made their way through the verdant garden and into the lobby

  of the spherical building, they could see no evidence of security guards

  to interfere with them. In fact, all they could see were clusters of

  people having a good time. And not only humans, as they found when they

  looked more closely. There seemed to be representatives of every

  sentient and civilized alien race so far discovered in the universe.

  Except, of course, for Cylons---although even their unlikely presence

  wouldn't have surprised Starbuck. The Cylon sense of oder and austerity

  would not have permitted them to participate in gambling and the various

  wonderful forms of self-indulgence that were evident in this resort.

  Across a massive archway, in several languages, were variations of the

  phrase, Phoenix of Paradise, apparently the name of the resort.

  'Shall we investigate further?" Boomer asked.

  "By all means, Boom-Boom, by all possible means."

  Accustomed to seeing aliens only on occasion, Starbuck and Boomer

  eyed with some fascination the various examples of inhuman and humanoid

  life. There were tentacles lizards, furry octopoids, a grotesque

  sexpartite set of connected individuals from a species that the two men

  had heard of only in galactic legend, bulky, hard-surprsed oddities that

  could be mistaken for rocks if they hadn't spoken and moved----creatures

  of all varieties and shapes. However, the majority was humanoid,

  sometimes oddly so. As Starbuck and Boomer entered a magnificent

  chancery, a feline cocktail waitress, modestly attired in a clinging

  dress revealing her four (!) shapely breasts, asked them if they'd like

  anything to drink. When they declined, she smiled and walked away, her

  furry tail removing a dirty glass from a gilt railing. Starbuck could

  not take his eyes off her.

  "Did you notice her---uh--"

  "I sure did."

  At a nearby gaming table, one of hundreds spead through the ornate

  cavernous room, a scream of victory went up. Checking it out, Starbuck

  saw a chubby humanoid raking in cubits with a horselike paw. Another

  winner's cry erupted at an adjacent table."

  "My God!" Starbuck cried. "Boomer, what kind of odds do they have

  in this place? The patrons here are winning unbelievable fortunes. Look

  at them!"

  After further investigation, Boomer spotted rows of food tables, on

  which delectable items were being snatched at greedily by the

  gameplayers.

  "Yes, and they're obviously well fed here, too," he said. "Let's

  get a hold of whoever's in charge and see about getting some food back up

  to the fleet."

  "Whoa, there, you old space pirate. Cool your turbos a micron. The

  last thing these people may want to find is a battlestar sitting on their

  front doorstep."

  "Then you think this setup is illegal?"

  "Is a Cylon sickening? Yeah, I think it's illegal. Last time I

  looked, it wasn't exactly listed in the Colonial Visitors' Guide."

  "And we're standing here in full uniform. They may not be too happy

  when they notice that. Let's get our astrums outta here."

  "Wait, wait. Let's not look a gift horse in the eye, especially

  when it's dressed in gold. I've never seen a crooked gambling den that

  didn't depend on military paychecks to keep keep its doors open. Let's

  see what this guy's got to say."

  A human in a stylish black tuxedo came toward them, his mouth spread

  in a wide smile.

  "Welcome to the Phoenix of Paradise, gentlemen. I am Straker, your

  host," he said. "Is that an emblem of the Colonial Fleet I see?"

  Boomer looked scared, but Starbuck answered confidently:

  "That's what it is, all right."

  "I didn't realize they were in the area."

  "As a matter of fact, we're kind of here on our own."

  "A long way from home, aren't you?"

  "Secret mission," Boomer said, getting into the spirit of the

  deception.

  Starbuck slapped him on the back and said jokingly:

  "He likes to be dramatic. Just a reconnaissance flight. See that

  the armistice is being observed."

  They all three stood around silently for a long moment. Was

  Straker's grin directed at their naïve lie, Starbuck wondered, of was it

  just a reflection of the genuine hospitality of the chancery.

  "How worthy," Straker said. Starbuck couldn't tell whether or not

  the man intended the observation sarcastically. "And how fortunate to

  have you with us. Consider yourselves guests of the establishment. Food

  and drink on the house."

  Straker snapped his spidery fingers and Starbuck and Boomer found

  their hands full of food and drink, supplied by short siminioid waiters

  who moved like lightning through the crowd. Starbuck took a sip from his

  glass. The drink turned out to be a Sagitarian straight-arrow. He took

  a bite of the pastry in his other hand, an Aquarian chocolate cake.

  "These are my favorites, my favorite drink, my favorite dessert,"

  Starbuck said. "How'd you know what to give me."

  "They knew," Straker said, pointing to the siminoid waiters who were

  now supplying a creature who looked like a sculpture of plastic, slightly

  melted. "They're primitive types, the waiters, but they're mildly

  telepathic, at least in matters of food and drink. Enjoy yourselves."

  Straker smiled and walked of. Starbuck stuffed more Aquarian cake

  into his mouth. Moist crumbs clung to his lips.

  "Okay," Boomer said sardonicall, "how do you feel now, sport? Here

  we have the run of the place while our people are out the re starving and

  scrabbling for crops and grazing land?"

  "What did you expect me to do, ask this guy Straker for enough food

  for a ragtag fleet when he thinks we're just a couple of straggler pilots

  on a reconnaissance flight?"

  "Maybe we should just tell him the truth."

  "Sure, he looks a swell sort, Boomer. Look, until we know who these

  people are, just keep in mind that it'd only take one informer to have

  the whole Cylon war machine on its way."

  "So what do we do? We've got to find ways to get fuel and food back

  to the ships."

  "First thing, we'll try to find out who's behind this place. How

  many cubits you have with you?"

  "Cubits? Starbuck, you disgust me, you know that? Pepole in our

  fleet are hal
f-starved and you're going to gamble?"

  "You expect me to be a miniature Commander Adama, you got another

  think coming. Besides, this time it's in the line of duty. We've got to

  start asking some questions, digging out some information---but

  carefully, very carefully."

  Boomer seemed reluctant to hand Starbuck the money.

  "Oh, all right, but you'd better make it this last. That's all I've

  got on me."

  Boomer dropped three cubits into Starbuck's outstretched hand.

  "Boomer, my man, cubits don't mean much just now, no matter how you

  measure it."

  Starbuck's active eyes sought the source of the best action. He

  decided on the Def-Ice table, since Def-Ice was a game at which he could

  make a quick turnover of his limited funs before seeking out a big-stakes

  game. Three people, all humans, sat around the table. An open chair

  beckoned. Starbuck sat beside an attractive woman who, he thought, might

  have been an absolute stunner if she would drop just a few laxars from

  her pleasingly plump figure. The other players were men, both cheerful,

  both quite obese. As he sat, the woman, obviously liking what she saw,

  gave Starbuck the eye.

  "Well!" she said. "The fleet's in. Sit down, Lieutenant. You've

  come to a lucky table."

  "Is that a fact?"

  "Yep. Not sure what I mean, though. Whether it's lucky because

  I've been cleaning up, or because you chose to sit here.

  Starbuck assumed his best appealing grin, and signaled to be dealt

  in. The nonhuman dealer, with a friendly smile, began tossing out the

  next round of cards with an elegant flick of his triple-jointed,

  gray-green wrist.

  *****

  Apollo ran a check on the other branches of the survey team. Ensign

  Greenbean got on the line and reported a disturbance.

  "What is it, Greenbean?" Apollo said.

  "It's Jolly, sir. We seem to have lost him."

  "How could you lose anybody his size?"

  "Beats me, sir, but he's lost."

  "Send out a search party and report back to me."

  "Yes, sir."

  Apollo leaned back against the bucket seat.

  "The man probably just wandered off," Serina said.

  "Maybe."

  He was hoping to say more when the Tylium detector started beeping.

  The beeping caused Boxey's daggit-droid to bark.

  "Quiet, Muffit. I see it, Captain---Tylium!"

  Apollo slowed the landram and checked the indicator. It seemed to

  display a Tylium lode, all right, a large one. He brought the vehicle to

  a slow stop. As soon as it stopped, Muffit leaped out the window.

  "Muffit!" Boxey cried. "Wait! I'll bring him back."

  Before anybody could stop him, Boxey had followed the daggit-droid

  out the landram window.

  "Shouldn't we go after him?" Serina asked in a nervous tone of

  voice.

  "He's in sight for the moment. Let him run free a little."

  "You're right. I may be keeping too tight a leash on the boy.

  Thank you, by the way."

  "For what?"

  "For saving his life."

  "Yahrens?" asked Judy.

  "You're getting things a little out of proportion. Anyway, maybe I

  should be thanking you."

  "Now it's my turn to ask for what?"

  "For helping me to..."

  He stopped talking, leaning forward to squint out the window on

  Serina's side.

  "What is it?" she said.

  "Boxey. He was there a moment ago."

  "Maybe he just ran over a hill."

  "Perhaps, but we'd better take a look. C'mon."

  Serina became frightened by the agitated way Apollo scrambled out of

  the landram and onto the Carillon's Lot surface.

  *****

  Bar-Lo emerged from his ground concealment and, in one rapid move,

  swept Boxey and Muffit into his powerful arms. Before the boy could

  scream or the animal could emit one of his disgusting sounds, Bar-Lo had

  carried them back to the camouflaged ground entrance and onto a pod which

  he immediately activated to descend into the ground to the Tylium mine

  below. In the corridor leading to the queen's chamber, the boy struggled

  fiercely. As Bar-Lo tried to improve his hold on him, the animal leaped

  out of his right arm and ran a short way down the corridor.

  "Muffy!" the boy cried. "Darn you daggit. Come back here."

  Immediately the animal obeyed. Bar-Lo, unaccustomed to domesticated

  animals or their droid substitutes, was impressed with Muffit's quick

  obedience. He picked it up again, and both animal and boy were serene

  until they had been carried into Nor's throne room, where Muffit again

  scrambled out of Bar-Lo's right arm, this time to run to the throne. It

  barked furiously.

  A slave hissed, growled and bared his fangs at the droid animal, as

  if preparing to kill it, but Nor, amused by the sight of it, shooed him

  away. Boxey squirmed out of Bar-Lo's left arm and ran to his animal.

  The other human in the room took a couple of steps forward, and Boxey

  looked up at him.

  "Lieutenant Jolly!" Boxey cried. "What're you doing here?"

  "I'm not paying a social call, kid," Jolly said. He glanced toward

  Nor lounging on her throne. "I left all my calling cards in my formal

  jumpsuit, your highness."

  Nor didn't understand the sarcastic humor in the fat man's remarks.

  Bar-Lo was about to seize Boxey again, but Nor gestured him away, saying:

  "Let him be."

  Muffy licking his face, Boxey looked up a the queen from a crouch.

  Nor raised herself from her thorne. Jolly couldn't help but admire the

  surreal beauty of the alien queen upon standing to her full height, the

  strong green glow of her eyes, the suppleness of her body, her powerful,

  shapely legs.

  Nor pointed to the child, the fat flyer, and the droid.

  "A most unusual group," she said. "But they will do quite nicely.

  Bar-Lo, arrange that they be taken care of and prepare for the others as

  soon as possible."

  Bar-Lo nodded approval and walked to the captured humans. Jolly

  edged over to Boxey and put his arm around the boy. Bar-lo was amused by

  the fat human's obvious fear. He observed even his own race with a

  cynical eye. He had always liked what he was, but now who he was---or,

  for that matter, who anybody else was. Even his love for his queen felt

  incomplete, no matter how much worship he attempted. It could not be

  complete unless the queen would love him back, a possibility not even

  within the scope of Ubbo-Sathla reasoning. Bar-Lo, his hands making a

  couple of elegant gestures, guided Boxey and Jolly out the entrance,

  Muffit trotting happily behind. On the throne, Nor began to laugh

  mysteriously. Bar-Lo never knew the meaning of his queen's laughter.

  *****

  Apollo and Serina searched the immediate area around their vehicile

  to no avail. Serina held back tears, muttered to herself that she should


  never have let the child get away from her. Back at the landram, Apollo

  got on the communicator to Greenbean, who reported no sign yet of Jolly.

  "What is it?" Serina said. "What's happening on this planet?"

  "Don't panic. We'll find him."

  Apollo wished he could be as sure of that as he sounded. For a

  moment all he wanted to do was fold this beautiful, auburn-haired,

  green-eyed woman into his arms and soothe her, tell her everhthing would

  be all right. The trouble was, he couldn't feel that everything was

  going to be all right.

  "This planet is scary. With this darkness and the two moons

  it's---what is it, Apollo?"

  Apollo had drawn his sidearm and pointed it toward an area beyond

  the landram. Serina followed his look, then screamed. There were two

  Ubbo-Sathla warriors emergeing from a hole in the ground, a hole that had

  not been there a second ago. Their weapons were aimed at Apollo and

  Serina.

  *****

  From the Adama Journals:

  My father told me as a sort of valedictory when he handed me command

  of the Galactica that the best advice he could give me was that, when

  everything appeaered to be in place and everything was placid, it was

  time to consider what was absent. The questioning of the apparent

  reality, and the ability to add the absent to the visible, was a prime

  requisite for any commander. I didn't think much of the advice at the

  time. Later, when I had to study a star map and plot out dangers before

  sending in attack craft, I knew exactly what the old man meant. When I

  delt with apparently docile friendly creatures, I learned it was

  imperative to listen for what was not being said. At the time when peace

  was a most tempting reality, it was necessary for me to question the

  absence of the most important parties to the agreement. I can't even

  look at a painting without wondering what the artist eliminated from the

  original landscape or model. It seems that, except at that rarep oint

  when an act or set of events reaches a definite conclusion, I'm always at

  odds with what I see, with the apparent reality, and am nervously looking

  for something to fill in the parts I can't yet see.

  *****

  CHAPTER SEVEN: TOO OPTIMISTIC

  The two Ubbo-Sathla warriors forced Apollo and Serina down long,

  sloping, labyrinthine corridors. After the suffocating closelness of the

  pod in which they had travled to these underground levels, the blasts of

  cold, damp air seemed refreshing. When they emerged into the massive

  chamber of the mine, Apollo caught his breath in surprise. Serina, too,

  was astonished at the seemingly limitless heights and depths of the main

  chamber, and the furiously active work going on in all its cells.