Islands in the Sky

  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