Islands in the Sky

  simple..."

  "I believe you're occupying my seat," said Cassiopeia, who now stood

  behind the chair Athena had coopted.

  No! Starbuck thought, what miserable timing. He could feel the

  sweat begin to pour out of his skin. This was worse than angling toward

  a tilted deck for a crash landing! He hardly noticed that he had just

  won another pot. Perhaps if he crawled under the table...

  Athena turned slowly, with a studied deliberation, toward

  Cassiopeia.

  "Your chair?" she said elegantly.

  "Maturity doesn't become you, child," Cassiopeia said, then turned

  toward the redfaced Starbuck. She held up her hand. In her long thin

  fingers dangled a glistening golden key.

  "Good news, flyboy! I got us the Royal Suite!"

  In space-fleet parlance, such a turn of events was known politely as

  the moment that the Cylon hit the fan. Athena appeared livid with rage.

  She looked from the victoriously grinning Cassiopeia to the pained face

  of Starbuck. The lieutenant decided he should look pious, but he had no

  idea how even to feign that, it was so far from his normal behavior. He

  swallowed hard and figured his best maneuver was to say nothing. Athena

  and Cassiopeia were both fighters, let them work out a solution. He sat

  back in the chair, taking a brief moment to signal the dealer to let his

  current bet ride.

  Athena, with a sly smile, reached up and snatched the key from

  Cassiopeia's fingers.

  "Thank you!" Athena said. "We do appreciate it!"

  She looked toward Starbuck and took his arm, trying to nudge him

  from his chair.

  "Let's get out of here," Athena said. "To the Royal Suite,

  Starbuck!"

  He looked up at Cassiopeia, then back at Athena. A weak grin broke

  up the panic in his face.

  "Uh," he said, "look, I'm right in the middle of a hot streak here."

  "Honey," Cassiopeia said, "your streak isn't that godforsaken

  gold-dust pile on the table. Your streak is here, with me, and you've

  just gone cold."

  "That's right, you tell him! " Athena said.

  "Hey!" Starbuck said.

  "Forget it, Lieutenant," Cassiopeia said, "even an ex-socialator had

  a notion of when to bow out."

  "Smart lady," Athena said.

  "Don't get overconfident, child," Cassiopeia said. "I didn't say

  I'd quit for good."

  "You little..."

  "Don't say it. I've heard it somewhere anyway."

  Cassiopeia angrily pushed her way through the crowd.

  "About the Royal Suite," Athena said.

  "Yeah," Starbuck said.

  "Forget it!"

  She threw the key down on the card table, pushed the chair over, and

  followed in Cassiopeia's wake. Starbuck let out a long-held breath and

  started collecting his cubits, while the dealer pushed his newest

  winnings toward him. Boomer tapped him on the shoulder, and said:

  "We'd better talk."

  There was an urgency in Boomer's voice that Starbuck could not

  ignore.

  Boomer led Starbuck away from the gambling tables and into the

  chancery's entertainment lounge. As they swiveled and sidestepped their

  way thorugh the crowded room, Starbuck's attention was gradually drawn to

  the stage, where a trio of humanoid female singers was currently

  performing a song that bore no realation to any kind of music he'd ever

  heard. They sang in a high-pitched and racous fashion, but not without a

  certain sweetness in a deeper timbre undercutting the melody. Starbuck

  was quite charmged by their act and could not take his eyes off them even

  when he and Boomer had been seated at a table along a side wall.

  "What do you know about the entertainment?" Starbuck asked.

  Boomer glanced toward the stage, said in a bored voice, "Caladans."

  "That the name of their group or their species?"

  "They come from the planet Caladan."

  "Never heard of it. Interesting sound, though, and sort of

  attractive in an odd way."

  "Very odd."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Look closely."

  Starbuck looked closely. He saw suddenly what Boomer meant. Each

  of the Caladan women had two mouths, and all of the mouths were engaged

  in the song. No wonder they were capable of such a bizarre sound!"

  "Hard for any of those damn Ubbo-Sathlas to overhear us or read lips

  in here," Boomer said.

  "Lips?" Starbuck said. "Oh, you mean, our lips. Look, are you sure

  you aren't jamming your scanner, imagining things? Why would anybody

  wanta read our lips?"'

  "I'm not sure, but somebody's up to something around this place."

  Starbuck dumped a lot of cubits onto the table, inserted one in a

  small pedestal at the center. A cup materialized full of brownish

  liquid.

  "Where'd you get all those cubits?" Boomer asked.

  "Gambling! You can't lose. The cards are falling my way."

  "That's what I'm talking about. Everybody's winning."

  "Boomer, one thing this place isn't, is crooked."

  "You ever been in a place where you can't lose your money?"

  "No, but then I've never been here either. Say, will you listen to

  those singers?"

  "Starbuck, nobody else I know of's ever been here before either. I

  know this place is a little out of the way, but..."

  "A little out of the way? We almost starved to death getting here!"

  "Yeah, because of fuel problems, because we spent a lot of time

  under lightspeed. Look, half the people here are from our home

  planets----Caprica, Tauron, Sagitaria. They were transported here before

  the Cylon invasion, even. They don't even know about it. No

  communication's been going in or out. I tried to tell one of these

  clowns what'd happened. He thought I was joking."

  "Understandable. Not a very credible story when you're sitting in a

  joint like this."

  "And another thing. We've never heard of this so-called resort,

  never even encountered Ubbo-Sathlas before, right? I took a quick poll.

  Nobody got a word of publicity about the most efficient gambling den in

  this place."

  "Maybe it's like a secret club."

  "Nothing's that secret. How is it they all come here but never came

  back home and told everybody about it?"

  "Would you tell everybody you found a gold mine? I mean, who knows

  how long they're gonna keep this up? It may be some kind of introductory

  offer. Hey, those girls are great!"

  "Forget the girls. Talk to me. What information've you picked up

  around here?"

  Starbuck continued to stare at the singers despite Boomer's

  protests.

  "Like what?" Starbuck said.

  "Like why everyone eats so much in this place, maybe?"

  "Why not? The food's practically free, and sensational,

  like----hey, would you listen to that! They're amazing!"

  One of the singers had moved downst
age for what sounded like a riff

  solo, while the others provided a complex harmony. Starbuck was

  beginning to be surprised that it took only six mo uths to perform such

  musical wonders. Then he noticed that the soloist was only using her

  upper mouth at that moment in order to carry the viciously sweet melody.

  "We could make a fortune if we could put those girls on the star

  circuit," Starbucky yelled. "I mean, big money, Boomer."

  Boomer raised frustrated eyebrows.

  "I really don't believe you. Every creature in the universe may be

  out to exterminate us you want to hire a vocal group!"

  "Oh, have a little vision, willya? Who knows how much longer this

  stupid war's gonna last---I mean, the way things are, it might be over

  now and we just don't know abou tit. Whatever, eventually we're no

  longer of any use to anybody and get mustered out and dumped. Then

  what'll we be? Antiquated, burned-out war daggits."

  "Seems to me optimistic to plan on being burned out. Stop counting

  your pension money, Bucko! We may be lucky if we last till tomorrow

  morning."

  "What do you mean?"

  "People are disappearing."

  "Who's disappearing?"

  "I'm not sure, but I've picked up some talk, some weird stuff about

  guests who just drop out of sight."

  "The tour you mean? Boomer, it's a big place hand they have some

  kind of tour a lot of people are going on before leaving for home."

  "Home? What home? I just told you, nobody heard of anybody going

  home! And what home're they going to go to now?"

  "You ask too many questions."

  "And you're not acting like yourself. Something's gotten to you,

  Starbuck. I'm telling you. Something's not right around here."

  "Well they are. Listen to them."

  The trio was building to their big finish. The two Caladans singing

  harmony hit a sustained chord, while the soloist's voice rose and rose

  and rose. Then, just at the final beat, the singer's lower mouth came

  open and emitted a resounding note that not only put a sensational capper

  on the piece of music but smashed the glass in Starbuck's hand to pieces.

  The audience broke into tumultuous applause. Flabbergasted, Starbuck

  rose from his seat, shouting:

  "I gotta talk to them."

  Boomer started pounding the surface of the table, hollering.

  "I don't believe it! I don't believe it!"

  Starbuck rushed toward the stage, trying to catch the attention of

  the Calandana singers.

  *****

  The unpleasant sweetness of the air, the slightly repulsive richness

  of the food, and the raucous noise of the chancery all affected Apollo,

  while Serina seemed to revel in it.

  "I've spent too much of my life on my career," she said. "Fought too

  many petty battles with too many venal people just to get a picture

  center right, a news item reported correctly. I don't know how to relax.

  I'm trying to learn. Will you help me?"

  "I've got some ideas," Apollo said. "Let's try the garden."

  "You're on, Captain."

  The centerpiece of the casino garden was a founding from which

  purple wine seemed to emerge as tiny waterfalls from between foliage.

  People scooped out portions of the liquid into golden goblets with broad

  handles. Then they held the goblets over the tiny fires that encircled

  the fountain. The result, as Apollo and Serina soon found out, was a

  tantalizing concoction which seemed to mix hot and cold in delicious

  bursts of taste. The Galactica's crew, who had been among the first to

  sample the mixture, had nicknamed it "grog." It was not only delicious,

  it seemed to have some aphrodisiac effect, as the couples who sneaked off

  into the surrounding foliage indicated.

  After taking a sip, Apollo found it difficult not to suggest a

  little trip into the trees to Serina. He was jarred out of his romantic

  mood, by the ugly voice of Sire Zalto who, a few feet away, doll under

  his right arm, was talking with one of the other council members...Zelar,

  the representative from Piscera.

  "I had a long talk with what's-her-name, their queen," Zalto was

  saying.

  "He had a long talk," his dummy supplied.

  "She's very kind, generous and absolutely gorgeous. She said she

  was happy we seemed to like it here so."

  "I'll say," Zelar said. "Zalto, have you seen the guest

  accommodations? They're as opulent as sa king's palace and endless.

  Endless. If this planet could fly, it could see us to our destination in

  style."

  "Who said it needs to fly?"

  Zalto kissed a pretty young woman at his side. Apollo thought it

  was a different pretty young woman than the one who had clung to him at

  the time of the arrest. A shudder ran up Apollo's spine as he listened

  to the two buriticians and their drunken rhetorice. Zalto continued.

  "That's just my point, Zelar. Just what I talked to the queen

  about. Hey, if a man were to visualize an environment for his complete

  fulfillment, he couldn't do better than this. There's the food, all the

  necessities to feed our people, and the Ubbo-Sathlas can mass-produce it.

  And,with the Ubbo-Sathlas, we've got the support of a culture quite

  content to be subservient to our needs. When I asked the queen if we

  could stay here, she said they would be happy to welcome us."

  "Yes, happy," said the doll. "But there's just one catch."

  Zelar asked Zalto what his doll was talking about.

  "Our weapons scare the poggies out of 'em," Zalto continued. "Comes

  with being a peaceable race, y'know. And I'll tell you something right

  now: I don't blame 'em. Not at all. I mean, how would you like it if a

  superior race dropped down from the skies and threatened us with superior

  weaponry? You see their point? Well, anyway, here we are so far from

  the Cylons that we don't pose a threat to them. At least, we shouldn't

  pose a threat, that is, and we wouldn't, if we calm the Ubbo-Sathla's

  fears by giving up our weaponry, our awesome war machines."

  It was not that Zalto had spoken so preposterously that surprised

  Apollo; it was the idea that people all around him were nodding assent to

  the idea.

  "Do you realize what you're saying, Sire Zalto?" Apollo said,

  stepping forward into the center of the buritician's group. Serina

  stayed at the edge of the group, sipping at her grog and trying to focus

  her eyes on the scene before her.

  "Aha!" Zalto's doll piped, "Our young warrior hero!"

  "Actually," Zalto told the doll, "he's more like a savior. The son

  of our godlike commander. Don't jump down my throat too hard, Captain.

  I was just pointing out that this planet offers us a marvelous

  opportunity."

  "Sounds to me like an opportunity to be murdered for good and all by

  the Cylons."

  "If they even bothered with us, which they won't."

  "Sire Zalto, they destroyed our worlds!"

 
"Reality check, Captain Apollo," screeched the doll, eyes seeming to

  flash even brighter than they normally did. "The Cylons attacked us

  because we threatened their order."

  "Exactly right," Zalto amended. "Isolated from them on this planet

  we won't threaten them. Especially if we disposed of our ships and

  weapons. What do you think of my proposal, young warrior?"

  "I'd hope it's the grog."

  "He hopes it's the grog," the doll mocked.

  "All right," he said, "maybe tonight it's the grog, but tomorrow..."

  Apollo whirled and walked out of the center of the circle. Taking

  Serina's arm, he led her along a garden path back toward the chancery.

  Looking back, it seemed to Serina that Sire Zalto stared after her

  somewhat lecherously.

  "Don't let him ruin this wonderful glow," Serina said, a bit

  woozily. "No one could take that proposal seriously."

  "I don't know. A lot of people were nodding right along with what

  he said."

  "I'm about to nod out."

  "In that case, would you like to hear my proposal? It's a bit more

  personal."

  "Captain, I"ve been considering it for long before you ever get

  around to asking it. But I'm not sure abou tit. Not while my head is

  spinning, anyway. Would you mind if we discussed this again after we

  visit the guest quarters?"

  "Which brings me right back to my proposal: I want to take you

  there."

  "This time I want to go there to make sure Boxey's all right. And

  after that, let's hear no more proposals you can't live up to when the

  grog wears off."

  A sign in the chancery elevator informed them that all guest

  accommodations were on the first three levels going down. Serina touched

  the plate for level two, where she had deposited a sleepy Boxey earlier

  in the evening.

  "I wonder what's on those other levels further down," Serina said,

  pointing to the array of buttons on the panel.

  "Want to have a look?" Apollo said.

  "Why not? I'm a snoop from way back, you know. Let's start at the

  bottom and work our way up."

  She touched the plate for the bottom level. Immediately a soft voice

  floated down at them from the ceiling.

  "I'm sorry, but you have indicated an incorrect stopo. Guest

  accommodations are limited to the first three levels. All others are for

  kitchen, mining, and support personnel only. Thank you."

  Serina smiled.

  "Off limits, I think they say in your profession, Captain," she

  said.

  "How very odd," Apollo muttered.

  The elevator came to a stop at level two. A quick check of Boxey's

  room showed that the boy was sleeping quite peacefully. His arm was

  curled around Muffit Two, who maintained a droid alertness, even giving