Page 24 of Islands in the Sky


  off.

  *****

  Bar-Lo could not figure out why he was disturbed about the operation

  that seemed to be progressing in the chancery and within the several

  levels of the Ubbo-Sathla colony. The Colonial warriors, most of them,

  had been assembled for the award celebration. They would be easy targets

  when the proper time came. His troops were successfully abducting humans

  who wandered away from the main body and taking them to the lower levels.

  Everything he had been ordered to see to had been done. Still, he felt

  troubled.

  The Cylon centurion walked arrogantly into the throne room and both

  he and his queen automatically bowed.

  "By your command," Nor said.

  "Speak," said the centurion.

  "The humans are in full attendance."

  "How many warriors?"

  "We have counted more than two hundred."

  "My reports indicate that number as very near the full compliment.

  A very good effort, Nor."

  The centurion's condescending compliment sent a shiver of distaste

  through Bar-Lo's body.

  "We are, but to serve," Nor said in her soft deep voice.

  "You have served well. See that the humans remain entertained until

  the end."

  "How will we know..."

  "When the Galactica is destroyed, the night will be as bright as a

  thousand suns, for a quick moment, then there will be darkness. Eternal

  darkness for the humans. And their remnants will be yours, for your

  lower chambers."

  "We are very grateful, centurion."

  "Acknowledged."

  Nor and Bar-Lo bowed and backed out of the throne room.

  *****

  Apollo and Starbuck could find no trace of the three strange men in

  Galactica uniforms on the guest accommodation levels.

  "They've got to be down here someplace," Starbuck muttered in

  frustration. "If they aren't here, they must've reached another level."

  "The other levels aren't accessible to humans."

  "They are to Ubbo-Sathlas. Maybe somebody gave them a free trip.

  You know, I've been wondering; just how inaccessible are the other

  levels?"

  "That speculation's crossed my mind, too. Shall we try?"

  "After you, Captain."

  They returned to the elevator. Inside the car, Apollo drew his

  weapon, aimed it at the control panel and fired. The thin red beam

  pierced the metal of the panel and, in an near-perfect circle, a section

  of the control panel above the selection touchplates was severed, falling

  to the floor. Inside the panel, several wires were cut by the beam from

  Apollo's sidearm.

  Staring at the dangling wires, Starbuck commented, "You realize

  that's private property."

  Apollo smiled.

  "I think we owe it to them to try to put it back together," he said.

  "Any suggestions?"

  "Yes, sir. I'd suggest you try tapping those little critters there

  together."

  Apollo connected a pair of the wires. As soon as they touched, the

  elevator car came to life again and began moving downward.

  "You're a gambler," Apollo said. "Pick a level."

  "I say we take a look at what's farthest from the guest rooms."

  "Agreed."

  Apollo pressed the touchplate for the lowest level. No soft

  forbidding voice intruded and criticized this time.

  *****

  Her abductor carried Cassiopeia down several levels to a dark,

  cavernous chamber. She struggled all the way, and the Ubbo-Sathla had to

  call in reinforcements in a high-pitched but ominous voice. The group of

  Ubbo-Sathlas flung her onto a massive table and, before she could squirm

  off, a large canopylike cover came rapidly down form the ceiling and

  sealed off her escape. Tubing leading into the canopy started pumping in

  a dark reddish gas. Cassiopeia tried to hold her breath but, looking

  down at her arm, she saw that the gas penetrated her skin. Her mind told

  her to scream, but her body was beginning to feel extremely comfortable,

  extremely contaent. As the tension rushed out of her, she looked out the

  transparent canopy. The Ubbo-Sathlas were opening what appeared to be

  large pods. In a trio of other pods three men in Galactica dress uniform

  were nestled snugly, calm expressions on their faces. Cassiopeia smiled

  at them and managed a weak wave. She was dimly aware of some human

  voices moaning in the distance.

  *****

  Moaning was the first sound Apollo noticed as he and Starbuck

  stepped in the oppressive atmosphere of the lower level corridor.

  Drawing his sidearm, he gestured to Starbuck to follow him in the

  direction of the sound.

  "You're the leader," Starbuck whispered.

  Right after they turned into a corridor, they heard a chattering

  noise behind them. Recognizing the sound as the Ubbo-Sathla language,

  Apollo whirled around ready to fire. However, the Ubbo-Sathlas were

  gathered around the elevator, examining the damage Apollo and Starbuck

  had caused, and arguing among themselves. Their queen, Nor, swept up and

  examined the damaged car control. Her excited chatter sent the other

  Ubbo-Sathlas scurrying in all directions.

  "They're gonna be looking for us," Apollo whispered. "Let's move."

  As he started running forward, he thought he heard the sound of a

  daggit barking ahead of him.

  *****

  Serina finally located Boxey on the other side of the massive

  chancery. He was, as usual, chasing after Muffit Two. The daggit-droid

  was sniffing around a decorated screen that blocked off a small part of

  the room. As if picking up a trail, Muffit scampered behind the screen.

  "Come back here, you daggit!" Boxey hollered, and ran after the pet.

  Serina smiled. It was time to herd in Boxey and Muffy, get them both

  something to eat. She went behind the screen, and saw an overturned

  chair. And nothing else. Boxey and his daggit were not there.

  All right, don't panic, she told herself, somehow they got back into

  the chancery. She rushed back into the main room. On the podium, Sire

  Zalto had made some excuses for the missing guests of honor and was

  launching into a speech about rebirth, about wiping the slate clean of

  animosities, of displaying peace to their former enemies.

  People were applauding. There was a madness in the room, she

  thought. Where was Boxey? Where was Apollo? Why were there so many

  Ubbo-Sathlas slowly gathering, as if in ranks, near the exits of the

  chancery?

  She started walking fast, looking for somebody she could trust, and

  finding no one.

  *****

  Apollo and Starbuck leaned against a corridor wall, out of breath.

  "I'm beginning to think you're right," Apollo said.

  "About what?"

  "Your suspicions. About something being wrong here."

  "But what? What's the connection between the chancery and the luxury

  quarters, and all of this?"


  "I suggest we get out of here, then figure that one out."

  Ubbo-Sathla chattering plus the sound of barking up aheahed brought

  Apollo away from the wall. He began to run down the corridor toward the

  sounds, Starbuck following close behind. The agitated growling of the

  daggit-droid was the equivalent of a guidance system. They turned a

  corner and saw Muffit Two, snapping at an Ubbo-Sathla who seemed puzzled

  by the animal automaton. The Ubbo-Sathla kept reaching for Muffit, and

  then springing back when the daggit leaped toward him, steel teeth

  gleaming. Boxey came out of a nearby corridor, hollering, "Muffit?

  Muffit?" The Ubbo-Sathla moved toward the boy, drawing a small but

  sharp-looking thin-bladed knife from her belt. Boxey cowered backward as

  the Ubbo-Sathla raised the weapon.

  "Run, Boxey!" Apollo shouted.

  The boy ran toward Apollo. The Ubbo-Sathla whirled around. Starbuck

  emerged into the dim light and sent a beam of laser fire through the

  alien, who seemed to collapse inward as he fell to the ground.

  "Let's get out of here," Apollo said, sweeping Boxey into his arms.

  "The elevator," Starbuck shouted.

  "Muffy!" Boxey yelled. The daggit yelped and followed after them.

  They stoopped at at the corridor archway leading to the lobby in front of

  the elevator bank. Apollo peered around the corner.

  "Oh, God, no!" he muttered, springing back against the wall.

  "What?" Starbuck whispered.

  "There's a crowd of Cylons collecting there. A whole regiment, it

  looks like."

  "Cylons! But how'd they get here?"

  "They must be able to key a path through the minefield. Either

  that, or..."

  "Or what, Apollo?"

  "Or the Galactica's under attack. Dammit! That's why the award

  ceremony. To get us down here while the Cylon's sneak-attacked us.

  Father's up there with just a skeleton crew. He's probably..."

  Muffit Two, peeking out of the archway, began to bark. Apollo

  looked. Several Cylons were looking toward the archway, light beaming out

  from their helmets. When they saw Muffit and Apollo looking out, an

  officer pointed toward them, and a platoon started running their way.

  "Let's get out of here!" Apollo screamed, and they broke into a run.

  The daggiti-droid held ground for a mo ment, yelping at the Cylons, then

  scampered after the retreating humans.

  *****

  The leathery leaves of the pod were gently wrapped around

  Cassiopeia's body. They felt soft and velvety. Ubbo-Sathlas picked up

  the pod and carried her out of the chamber. She began to feel dizzy.

  The feeling of peace seemed to be wearing off. The pod leaves were

  wrapped too tightly about her. She could not move her arms or legs. Her

  entire body was becoming numb. She opened her mouth to scream, but no

  sound could be forced out.

  They arrived at another large cavern. Lying around its floor,

  filling almost the entire surface, were many pods. Flowing down the wall

  at the far end of the room were what appeared to be a series of black

  treacles, neither solid nor transparent. Upon touching ground, they

  actually flowed like big black pools of liquid toward each pod. Then

  they reared up, stood on what appeared to be their two feet and assumed

  the unmistakable forms of Ubbo-Sathlas upon reaching their full height.

  Most of the pods, Cassiopeia could now see, contained human beings,

  but, if you squinted at them, you could see that they were quite dead.

  Squinting her eyes even more, she could clearly make out what the cause

  of that was----two puncture wounds on the neck! The Ubbo-Sathlas

  appearently were fedding on the guests, biting into their necks and

  drinking their blood dry!

  Cassiopeia's voice returned in a sudden, piercing scream.

  *****

  From the Adama Journals:

  On the day when his petition to run for a minor political office on

  his home planet of Sagitara was granted, Arcon came to visit us on

  Caprica. I was home on furlong at the time, during one of those lulls

  that seemed to occur when the Cylons withdrew fror a time from the fray.

  Ila was always happy to have Arco visit (at a much later time she asked

  me never to allow him into the house again) and the two of them had a

  great time chatting about the kind of literacy and cultural matters that

  they enjoyed so much. I was content to listen to them and watch the

  antics of my two-yahren-old son, Apollo. (Athena and Zac were yahrens in

  the future). We had a tiny pet then, a rascally daggit whose main

  purpose in life was to trip up intruding human feet, and Apolloused to

  love to charge at the animal, hear it yip, run away, and then turn

  waiting for Apollo to charge at it again. He loved that daggit and was

  terribly broken up three yahrens later from some mysterious daggit

  disease. Ila and I had a bad time convincing him that his pet's death

  was not in any way his fault.

  Anyway, Arcon could not hold in his good cheer during that visit.

  He bubbled over with happiness and optimistic hopes for the future. I

  don't remember much of what he said, but I suppose his main message was

  the one he used to much sinister purpose later---that he planned to push

  this business of the war to its finale. He felt the war was bogged down

  by the corruption of the buriticians running it (I was glad, at least,

  that he didn't blame the military, as I'd just taken over the helm of the

  Galactica at the time and was quite sensitive about its record). The

  main goal had to be peace, he must have said. I don't actually remember

  what he did say. All I really recall was his joy and his enthusiasm.

  They rubbed off on both of us, Ila and me. Anyway, he was half in love

  with Ila and she was half in love with him.

  On the day he left to go back and run his campaign, we joined hands,

  the three of us, and made a lot of foolish vows, none of which I wish to

  record here. All I care to remember is the touch of their hands, his and

  Ila's and the smiles that we couldn't wipe off our faces. That we should

  hold hands and smile was, at the time, so normal, so steeped in the

  tradition of our friendships and loves, that we never suspected it was

  the last time the three of us would be together like that. Oh, we were

  together again a number of times, but Arcon always brought a feeling of

  strategy to those visits, a sense that our times together in the past

  were part of a storybook whose tales were not particularly readable for

  him any more.

  After Arcon left, Ila hugged me for a long time. She seemed sad. I

  never did know why, though I asked the question often enough at the time.

  She said she just felt sad. Then the daggit, with Apollo after him, ran

  between my legs, and I fell to the ground. As Ila laughed and helped me

  up, she said she'd forgotten to ready anything for lunch and would I

  accept leftovers. I said, "What are you laughing at? Of course I'll

  accept leftovers." She said I looked absurd falling to the ground and


  would I fix us a couple of cocktails. I hugged her again. To this day I

  can feel vividly the way her body nestled against mine.

  *****

  CHAPTER TEN: THE BATTLE

  Adama kept a constant surveillance of the Carillon's Lot work

  activities. Shuttles from the agricultural project hastened toward the

  Galactica and other ships, with a harvest beyond original predictions of

  crop yield. The last request for a new Tylium load had been met with the

  usual Ubbo-Sathla polite phrasings that more would be sent soon, after

  they had corrected a malfunction in their processing machinery. Tigh,

  angry, complained that a number of tankers sat on the surface. Scanners

  showed them filled with Tylium in its volatile liquid form. Adama told

  his negotiators to keep trying. He was pleased to learn that one of the

  tankers had been dispatched, and he personally oversaw the meticulous

  landing of the battered-looking ship on one of the Galactica's decks. An

  officer reported on the successful boarding of the food stores, and Adama

  ordered all agricultural personnel to be shuttled off the planet. With

  the livery and agricultural workers returned, that left only the people

  collected in the chancery for the awards ceremony still on the planet.

  His sense of timing suggested he wait a few moments before sending out a

  recall order. He would have liked to bring up Apollo immediately, but

  that was impossible. However, he put Tigh on alert, reacting to the

  Colonel's report that a group of Ubbo-Sathlas in the chancery were acting

  strangely.

  Athena, who had been manning the scanners directed planetside,

  reported an unusual number of aircraft and a lot of ground movement on

  Carillon's Lot. The exceptional darkness of the planet made it difficult

  to specifiy, she said, exactly what was going on. At least one aircraft

  appeared to have emerged from the cloud cover now hanging over a large

  portion of the night hemisphere. The trajectory seemed to indicate the

  rather large aircraft had emerged from the dense center of the minefield.

  "Is that possible?" she asked her father.

  "Yes, if..."

  "If what?"

  "If they're in possession of information allowing them to pass

  through the minefield with safety."

  "But such a large ship."

  "Were you able to get a good outline of it for scanning?"

  "Negative on that one, Father. The darkness and the cloud cover and

  the gathering precipitation made it impossible."

  "Yes, I see. Very good, Athena."

  "You have a suspicion about the ship, don't you, Father?"

 
Paul Robison, Jr's Novels