of Tylium, one might say."
"And just as dangerous?"
"Well, it depends on what state you're in, doesn't it, just like
Tylium?"
"You may have a point there."
At the shuttle gangway, he kissed her goodbye, to the obvious
delight of the young lieutenants, Starbuck and Boomer, who awaited him at
the vehcile's airlock. After Apollo had entered the shuttle and the
gangway had retracted and she had been ordered back to a safe area,
Serina held Boxey's hand and watched the shuttle take off. Walking back
to the casino entrance, she felt quite pleasant, content that some order
seemed to be edging its way back into her life. Into all their lives, if
what some people said was true. In front of her, Boxey frolicked with
Muffy. The boy was steadily improving, too.
An Ubbo-Sathla stood in the chancery entranceway. When he saw
Serina approach, she started back into the building. Serina called to
her to wait, and the Ubbo-Sathla waited, dutifully.
"Your name is Bar-Lo, right?" Serina said. "You conducted us on
that brief tour of the mining facility."
"That is correct," Bar-Lo said. "How may I serve you?"
"Oh, you might just satisfy a former newswoman's curiosity, that's
all."
"What is 'newswoman?'"
Serina had extreme difficulty explaining to the alien what a
newswoman was. Bar-Lo seemed to think reporting the activies of others a
bit sinful, however newsworthy.
"I was fascinated," Serina said, "by the, well, the order of your
society and I certainly couldn't help but be impressed by your industry,
your complete dedication. I've never seen anything like it. I mean, one
gest the impression that those people in the mines work until they simply
drop."
She wondered if she was sounding too naïve. Bar-Lo's answer,
however, was noncommittal.
"It's just that we know no other way."
"Well then," Serina said, edging close to her real question, "what
about family institutions? I somehow sense that something is mission."
Bar-Lo appeared a bit ruffled. Both of his hands were in motion
expansively as he spoke.
"We are very complete."
"What about children?"
"Children..."
Bar-Lo seemed uncomfortable with the subject.
"I---I don't mean to pry," Serina said, even though prying was
exactly her intention, "but I couldn't help but notice the lack of child
and teenage Ubbo-Sathlas. Surely there must be children someplace.
Who's going to take over all this when you and your queen grow old and
die? Perhaps you keep your children at home..."
"There are no children."
Bar-Lo's high pitched tone became harsh and authoritarian.
"I beg your pardon?"
The Ubbo-Sathla glared at her malevolently with his inhuman
neon-green eyes. "There never have been children."
"That's impossible! How do you..."
"That is none of your business. Please drop the subject, lest you
risk my wrath."
Serina sighed, and lowered her head, as if in shame. "I'm sorry. I
guess there are, well, some things about your people that just aren't
worth looking into."
She wanled away from Bar-Lo, wondering why he had become so agitated
at the mention of children. Sometimes a newswoman's instincts had its
drawbacks.
*****
Apollo was surprised to see only a token crew manning the bridge of
the Galactica. His father, engaged in a routine check of equipment with
Colonel Tigh, turned to greet his son warmly. Apollo felt happy that he
could be comfortable with his father again.
"Tigh was just briefing me on current operations," Adama said. "he
wants to be at the celebration planetside. I offered to relieve him for
the night. Strictly as a favor."
"You don't feel like seeing your son getting a star cluster, then?"
Apollo asked, puzzled.
Adama smiled.
"It's well deserved, Apollo. But there's more to this, this award
ceremony than just honoring you and Starbuck and Boomer. My presence
would somehow verify Zalto's strategy, and that's all this ceremony is,
just one of his ploys."
"Ploy? That seems strange---saluting his greatest rivals son as a
ploy."
"That's exactly what it is, though. He'll propose destroying our
arms at the celebration. He's hoping for a cascade of emotion that'll do
the damage before anyone realizes what they've done."
Apollo cursed his own stupidity----of course, anything that Zalto
had set up should've been suspect from the very beginning. After
observing Zalto the previoius night by the grog fountain, Apollo
should've known the man was plotting something.
"But you can stop him!" Apollo said to Adama.
"Not any more, I'm afreaid. Haven't you heard the talk? The
gossip? I'm the villain, at least to most of the population, who are
willing to believe anything the zany Zalto tells them. I got us into
this predicament, according to him."
"How couldn't anybody believe that. Surely not the majority of our
people."
"The majority, at last for the present, stand with Zalto. You must
remember, Apollo, what they've been through."
"I'm compassionate, Father. I inherited that from you. But this
isn't the time, it's---Father, you've got to speak out, to the people."
Adama took a deep breath before responding to Apollo's plea.
"I'm retired, Apollo. Except for running this ship and certain
phases of the total operation, I'm out of the game."
"I don't believe you're saying that! This isn't you. What's
happened? Help me understand."
It was all he could do for Adama to maintain an aloof stance, when
he wanted to embrace his son.
"You'll understand, son. In time, you'll understand."
Apollo started to speak, then thought better of it, and walked away
from the bridge.
Tigh came to Adama's side.
"That wasn't easy for you, not telling him," Tigh said.
"I need him down there at the ceremony. If I told him, he'd insist
on staying at my side. The gamble is mine. If I win, we all win."
"But, if you're wrong, Zalto will have your head on a platter."
Adama looked out at the starfield. He felt confidence returning to
him for the first time since he had assembled the ragtag fleet.
"I am not wrong," he said. "The Cylons lured me into their malicious
deception once." His eyes narrowed, and he looked like the old Adama of
galactic legend. "Never again!"
He turned to Tigh, his eyes glowing with eagerness to act.
"Report. The livestock."
"All being lifted off the surface of the planet now. No
interference."
"Report. The agricultural project."
"Everything harvested, sir. The project will be completed soon."
"Report. The fuel."
"Another token load just arrived. Barely. Darn near exploded when
the pilot set it down on the deck a bit too heavily. Other loads seem
ready to be launched from the surface, but the Ubbo-Sathlas are
stalling."
"Don't make them suspicious. But get as much Tylium from them as
you can."
"Yes, sir."
"Hop to it, Colonel!"
Tigh was already in action. As usual. Around them, the crew seemed
to respond to the commander's newfound and boisterous energy. Adama
remembered some story from his childhood about a sleeping giant
awakening.
*****
Apollo, waiting with Serina for the guest elevator to take them to
the casino, could not stop thinking of his father's refusal to bring his
case to the people. Something had to be done about Zalto, or they would
suddenly discover that the eccentric buritician had eased himself into a
position of absolute power.
"Write me a poem!' Serina said suddenly, clearly to break him out of
his mood.
"I couldn't," Apollo said, stirred out of his reverie. "You don't
know what you're asking."
"Oh, but I do. It'd mean a lot to me."
She leaned toward him and kissed his cheek, muttering, "I'll do
better in private."
"Why not?" Edgar growled.
Apollo was about to suggest something even more specific for their
later privacy, when he was distracted by a passing man who wore the dress
uniform of the Galactica. The man, whose collar was clearly too large for
his neck and whose sleeves seemed to hang down past his knuckles, seemed
a shade too old for combat duty. Apollo's scrutiny was so obvious that
the man noticed. He turned away uncomfortably and headed for the nearest
corridor, as if to escape.
"What's the matter?" Serina asked.
"The man's insignia is Blue Squadron. I thought I knew everyone in
it. I don't recall ever seeing him before."
"Maybe he transferred in from one of the other units."
"I know most of them also. And did you see the fit of the uniform?"
"How often do you guys get to wear your dress blues? He probably
bought it when he was a couple of sizes larger and hasn't worn it for
yahrens."
"I hadn't thought of that."
"In any case, the guest of honor fits into his uniform quite
neatly---and looks delicious, I might add."
He squeezed her hand. But, in spite of her glowing smile, he
couldn't get the sight of the officer in the oversized uniform out of his
head.
*****
The Ubbo-Sathlas, as anxious to serve as ever, had rearranged the
whole chancery for the award ceremony. Colored lights had been arranged
in flower-like patterns to add to the festive atmosphere. Acrobats and
entertainers of many species peformed their acts at one end of the
massive room. The men in full military dress uniform completed the
decorative picture.
Starbuck could not get his shoulders to relax. As he and Boomer
waited by the podium for the celebration to begin, he couldn't stop
fidgeting. Boomer appeared to be equally uncomfortable.
"Have I ever told you how lovely I think you are in a dress
uniform?" Boomer said, in a strained attempt to be cheerful.
"Just get me out of here," Starbuck said irritably. "Warriors don't
mix with all this pomp and..."
"Careful. Guests of honor don't curse. It's not etiquette."
It came from the doll tucked underneath Sire Zalto's left arm. The
latter swaggered up to them.
"Where's Captain Apollo?" Zalto said.
"Business aboard the Galactica," Starbuck said. "He'll be along."
Zalto regarded the roomful of people, which was dominated by the
Galactica's dress blues.
"From the uniforms, I'd deduce that most of our warriors are here,"
Zalto said.
"What a shame Captain Apollo's not," said the doll.
"Well, Sire Zalto," Starbuck said, "I'm always a big draw."
Zalto, not certain how to take Starbuck's sarcasm, strode away,
seeking another detail to attend to. Boomer pulled at Starbuck's sleeve.
"Don't spoil the crease," Starbuck said. "What is it?"
"Those three guys over there, watching the acrobats, can you tell me
who they are?"
Starbuck studied the three men, all of whom wore ill-fitting
Colonial Fleet uniforms.
"Nope, Boomer. Darned if I kow. Sure have lousy tailors, or else
all the fun and games down here's tiring them out."
"Starbuck, you should know them!"
"Why in Hades should I know them?"
"They're wearing insignia from our squadron."
Starbuck peered at the oddly attired trio. Suddenly he started
walking toward them, shouting back to Boomer, "Don't let them start the
festivities without me."
One of the three men saw Starbuck coming, and he pointed to him for
the benefit of the other two. Immediately the three began to walk toward
the elevators. Starbuck picked up his pace, trying to close in on them.
*****
Getting off the elevator, Apollo was bumped roughly by a man in a
Galactica uniform. He was about to dress the violator down but the
elevator doors closed in his face. There had been something odd about
the man and his companions. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned to Boxey
and said:
"The Ubbo-Sathlas've really fixed up this place attractively,
haven't they?"
"I don't like them," the boy said laconically.
Serina whispered to Apollo, "Boxey's a little miffed because some
Ubbo-Sathla tried to prevent him from bringing Muffit to the
celebration."
"I see he won the dispute."
Apollo gestured toward the daggit-droid in the boy's arms.
"Of course he did," Serina said. "He's in training to be an officer
of the Galactica, isn't he?"
Starbuck came running up to Apollo, saying, "Captain, those men that
just got on the elevator..."
"Yes, I have a strong tactile impression of one of them, but what's
it all about?"
"Something's going on around here, and I don't like the feel of it
at all," Starbuck said. "I think those three were imposters. Somebody
else wearing our uniforms, or duplicates of our uniforms. Can we talk?"
"Of course, Serina, will you excuse me?"
"Sure, but not for long, okay? I'll take Boxey and get something to
eat."
Muffit Two sprang out of the boy's arms and ran into the main room
of the chancery, Boxey running after him.
"Gotta go," Serina said. "But you two, don't be long. You don't
want to miss your own honors ceremony."
As she walked off, Starbuck took Apollo to a quiet corner.
"Now, what's this about imposters," Apollo said, remembering the man
in the ill-fitting uniform he had spotted near the elevator.
"I don't know," Starbuck said. "I'
ve been running into people all
night who aren't from our squadron. But they're wearing our squadron's
colors."
"Yes, I saw one of them myself. We'd better find out what's going
on."
The elevator door slid open and the two men rushed into it.
*****
It took a long time for Cassiopeia to find a dark place where she
could get away from the crowd of people. A dark place for her dark mood.
When she had arrived at the chancery, Starbuck had been distant with her,
and she didn't care for the young lieutenant's mercurial moods. Then the
wretched and lecherous Sire Zalto had made about twenty indiscreet
proposals to her, following her around while she denied him his every
wish until he finally gave up, muttering that no damn socialator should
dark to insult him like that. Finally, the festive atmosphere had
depressed her more, and she knew she needed to sulk for a while, work
some of the sadness out of her system.
What she found was a plush chair which had been placed behind an
ornate screen. She flopped down onto it and shut her eyes. The darkness
did not enclose her as it should have, as it usually did when she
employed the meditation techniques she had acquired in her training as a
socialator. Too many other scenes intruded.
Her winning of the highest academic honors and the awarding of the
golden fringe which she was allowed to wear along the neck and hem lines
of her street-robe. The award required Gemonese males to treat her with
a special dignity.
Her selection as a socialator officer and its accompanying privilege
of teaching the young.
Her long intermittent love affair with a Gemonese artist, his
kindess to her, the way she had felt when he had not turned up among the
refugees.
Her one disastrous night with Starbuck, the only man who had treated
her with an extra kindness in a long time. Why couldn't he...
An Ubbo-Sathla, apparently stepping out of the wall, interrupted her
thoughts. Before she could say anything, the alien had placed a hand on
Cassiopeia's mouth and started dragging her to a concealed pod-elevator
in the wall.
*****
Serina responded to Sire Zalto's gesture to approach the podium. He
asked her where Captain Apollo was.
"He'll be here in a moment," she said, "I'm sure."
Zalto looked toward Boomer, the only one of the three awardees on
the platform.
"Find your two friends and tell them we're going to begin," Zalto
said, "with or with them."
Boomer snapped to and jumped off the podium, a weak smile on his
face.
"I'd like to speak with you later," Zalto whispered to Serina,
"Alone."
"Drown yourself in the grog fountain," Serina said sweetly and moved