Islands in the Sky

  "Now what is she and what's she doing?"

  He restrained his urge to chase after it. He wasn't ready yet to

  follow a possible ghost-tanker into possible jeopardy. Not until he had

  made every other kind of cheek first. However, as soon as he tried to

  punch out a scanner program, the scanner's screen began presenting a

  meaningless jumble of symbols. It was as if something inside those

  clouds were trying to lure him inside, one of the Space Lorelies so dear

  to saloon storytellers. After trying every check he could think of, he

  told Zac of the failure of all his sophisticated equipment to get a fix

  on the mysterious clouds.

  "I get the same mess from a scan of that tanker back of us," Zac

  said. "Whatever I try, just a jumble."

  "Somebody's jamming us."

  "Who? Warbook says they're both unarmed freighters."

  "My foot. If they're jamming us, they're hiding something. There's

  no choice. I'm going in there."

  "But the cloud..."

  "I'll take the chance."

  "All right, but I'm not sure I like the idea of us flying in blind."

  "Not us, kid. You stay put."

  "I can't..."

  "If I need you, I'll call you to come in after me, Lieutenant."

  Apollo headed his viper ship direction into the cloud mass. He

  heard Zac's agitated voice over his communicator:

  "This jamming's knocking out my scanner now."

  Inside the clouds Apollo tried to work his own scanner again, and

  received the same jumble.

  "Nothing but a harmless cloud cover," he said. "Not heavy at all,

  not as dense as it looked. I don't see why they'd send up all that

  electronic...uh, oh."

  Breaking through the other side of the clouds and looking down, he

  suddenly saw why. Below him was an immense Cylon staging area and he had

  flown right smack into the middle of it.

  "Apollo, what's going on!?" said Zac.

  As far as Apollo could see there were Cylon warships, with their odd

  curves and arclike limbs. In one of the ships he could see the usual

  traid that composed a Cylon fighting crew. Two helmeted pilots sat side

  by side. Their tubular shaped helmets covered what Apollo knew from a

  closeup examination of Cylons corpses to be many-eyed creatures with

  heads that apparently could alter shape at will. In the center of the

  helmet was a long but narrow aperture from which emerged frine

  concentrated beams of light. No human had ever discovered whether the

  light was generated by the Cylons themselves or was some facet of the

  helmet's technology. Now, as Apollo stared at this particular trio of

  Cylons, he was startled to see one of their helmet lights swing upward

  toward his Viper. At the same time the Cylon observer motioned to his

  fellows to follow his gaze. Apollo punched a reverse loop on the

  directional touch plate. His ship rolled upward and over, and screamed

  off in a tight turn. At the same time, he radioed to Zac:

  "Let's get out of here!"

  "Why?"

  He caught sight of Zac's ship as he came out of the clouds.

  "I'll explain later."

  Zac's viper promptly rolled over to follow his brother's

  accelerating craft.

  "Apollo," Zac said, "for a couple of harmless tankers, it seems to

  me you're buring up an awful lot of unnecessary..."

  Zac's voice was interrupted by the sound of explosions.

  "What is it, Zac?"

  "Ships. Cylon ships. Co me at me. They're firing. Hold on. I'm

  coming..."

  Checking the scanner, Apollo could make out four Cylon ships

  pursuing his brother's plane. He punched in the direct-com line to the

  Galactica, but got only static in reply.

  "They're jamming our transmission, kid. We've got to get back to

  the fleet and warn them. It's a trap, an ambush. They've got enough

  firepower to take out the entire Fleet."

  "But Apollo, there's the peace mission, the whole Quorum of the

  Twelve, they couldn't..."

  Apollo heard an explosion through his earpiece.

  "What is it, Zac? Are you all right? What's wrong?"

  Zac's frightened voice responded.

  "Apollo, they zapped my port engine."

  "Take it easy. Look, we're not going to make it showing those

  louses our backs. I can see four ships on the scanner. How many you

  make out?"

  "Same. Four."

  "Damn them. They only sent four after us. It's insulting."

  "Maybe, Apollo, but they're doing awfully well."

  "Only because they're behind us. Okay, when I count three, hit your

  reverse thrusters and maximum braking flaps. We'll give them a little

  surprise. Okay?"

  "Okay!"

  "One...two...three!"

  While the sound of his won craft's reverse thrusting was deafening

  in his ears, the subsequent silence of the Cylon fighters flying past him

  was disconcertingly eerie. Although he could not see his helmeted

  enemies, Apollo was sure they were confused by the abrupt maneuver. He

  could picture them scanning the sky, their beams of light going every

  whichway, trying to locate him and Zac.

  Narrowing his eyes, he put his finger on the firing control button

  of his joystick. One of the Cylon ships flew into range.

  "Right here," he whispered, "you gallmonging snitrad."

  He squeezed the trigger. The Cylon ship disintegrated, transformed

  immediately into astral debris.

  Zac's fighter came into view, pursuing another of the Cylon ships.

  Knowing his brother's moves, Apollo could sense him lining up his target

  and firing. The second Cylon vehicle disintegrated. The remaining two

  fighters divided and veered off. The element of surprise had gained

  Apollo and Zac two direct hits.

  "Not bad, little brother," Apollo said. "Okay, you go after the guys

  on the right..."

  Apollo directed his Viper ship at the Cylon fighter on the left.

  Before it could swing around to attack positon, he lined it up on target,

  squeezed the trigger, and blasted it to the far reaches of space. As he

  swung his craft around he could see Zac again, just in the act of firing

  at, and missing, the last of the Cylon attackers. Heck, Apollo thought,

  the kid was so often a shade two eager, too quick on the trigger. Zac's

  pray veered off, did a tricky loop that Apollo recognized as a skilled

  maneuver only the best Cylon pilots could execute. Before Zac realized

  what had happened, his enemy had taken up position behind his plane.

  "Apollo..." Zac said.

  "I can see. Keep them interested just a little longer. I'll be

  right with you."

  "Interested? Believe me, they're interested!"

  As Zac tried to pull away from his pursuer, his ship ws hit again.

  "There goes one engine," he said.

  Apollo's Viper swooped in on the Cylon fighter from the side,

  heading toward it on a perpendicular course.

  "Steady," he whispered, "steady. Just
don't look this way, guys."

  He thought he saw one of the Cylon pilots become aware of him a

  moment too late, just before the ship exploded.

  Sighing, turning his ship toward Zac's, Apollo said, "The day those

  guys can outfight us without a ten to one margine..."

  "Apollo," Zac said, "better look at your scanner."

  He looked, saw that a larger attack force had emerged from the

  luminous clouds. What looked like a solid wave of Cylon Raiders was

  heading their way.

  "Ten to one, yeah," he said, "but a thousand to one, that's not

  fair."

  "What does it mean, Apollo?"

  Apollo laughed mordantly.

  "It means, little brother, that there isn't going to be any peace.

  The peace mission was a trap right from the start. We've got to get

  back, warn the Fleet."

  "Do it, Apollo. I'm short an engine, you know. I won't be able to

  keep up with you."

  Apollo was impressed by the note of courage in Zac's voice. He was

  a member of the family, all right. But family meant more than just

  forced bravado.

  "I can't leave you, Zac."

  "You have to, Apollo. Hey, I'll be okay. I'll keep ahead of them,

  don't worry. I'll put my foot in that turbo and make it back ahead of

  them. There's no other choice."

  "Okay, partner. Meet me in the ready room, I'll keep the ambrosa

  chilled."

  "I don't need liquor right now, thanks. I've got enough coming my

  way."

  "Good luck, kid."

  Before the turbo thrusters engaged, Apollo took one final look at

  his brother's starfighter. Then the turbo kicked in and the Viper seemed

  to vanish immediately from the black, suddenly morbid sky.

  *****

  The farther away his shuttlecraft took him from the Atlantia and its

  unpleasantly cheerful set of buriticians, the more relaxed Adama felt.

  It was always good to return to his own ship. He longed to take one of

  his famous tours, go down among the crew for some casual chatting and

  perhaps a few slugs of the kind of brew that did not often find its way

  into command cabins.

  "You're thinking the kind of thought you always refuse to tell me

  about," Athena said, swiveling her pilot seat around toward him."

  "As you were, Ensign. Your commander needs to maintain his

  privacy."

  She assumed a fake pout, then lalughed as she swiveled back. For a

  moment Adama examined his daughter's profile. He knew she was considered

  beautiful, especially by Starbuck and the other young officers who

  competed for her attentions. However, even as a loving father, he had

  difficulty perceiving Athena as beautiful. For one thing, she looked too

  much like him and too little like her mother, who was the real beauty of

  the family. Athena's face was angular like her father's, but the overall

  effect was softer, less granitic. Her nose displayed the same hint of

  aquilinity and her mouth the same thin-lipped straightness. Although he

  imagined these features as showing the world a firm look of determination

  in himself, he didn't think they blended well with Athena's lustrous dark

  hair and the one good features she did inherit from her mother, her eyes.

  Every time he caught the look of his wife, Ila, in those glowng blue

  eyes, he found himself glancing away to avoid the longing that always

  accompanied his memories of Ila.

  In their married life, he and Ila had been apart for more time then

  they had been tighter---this time it had been almost two yahrens since

  his return to Caprica---and that enforced separation was the one

  requirement of the military career that he had always despised. If it

  had not been for the war, they could have had the kind of balanced, happy

  life that now came only at well-spaced intervals, although, as Ila often

  argued, perhaps their love was intensified by the long disruptions.

  Without them, she said, she and Adama might have become dull old married

  folks, never really acknowledging each other's existence. Instead, they

  remained bedazzled, youthful lovers who still appreciated each other's

  virtues. Adama had replied that she was just saying that absence makes

  the heart grow fonder, albeit it in a more roundabout and loquacious way.

  Of course she said that---and a little bit more.

  As he loked as his daughter now, intent on her duties, he saw a

  feminine version of himself. Even her body, with its attractive and

  clearly sensous features, seemed to suggest useful strength rather than

  useless coquetry---or perhaps that was a just a father's biased

  point-of-view. He loved her, would always love her, but would never in

  the Twelve Colonies of Mankind be able to see her as an object of intense

  interest to gentlemen suitors.

  The communicator light flashed on and Athena quickly donned her

  headset. Her brow furled as she listened.

  "Something's wrong," she said.

  "What is it?"

  "I don't know, but they just put the Galactica bridge on alert."

  "On alert, why..."

  "Ease up, Father, we'll find out what's up on the old bucket soon

  enough. Just let me get this crate onto the landing bay safely.

  She engaged the landing hookup and checked out her equipment.

  Everything was okay. The landing bay came out of its pod, expanded, and

  seemed to ease itself under the descending shuttlecraft. Athena guided

  the small craft to the final stopping point indicated by a flashing red

  deck light. When the shuttlecraft settled to a stop, both father and

  daughter were out of it and running.

  On the bridge Adama found his aide, Colonel Tigh, squinting at his

  scanners intently. Tigh, a, short, wiry black man who had been through

  many battles at his commander's side, was not one to panic easily, yet he

  seemed very apprehensive and jumpy at the moment.

  "What is it?" Adama said.

  "Our patrol ran into trouble," Tigh responded. "We're picking up

  signals but we can't make anyting out of them. Jamming of some sort."

  "The trouble, what is it?"

  "I can't tell yet. Pirates, maybe. Maybe smugglers. Or..."

  Adama could read Tigh's real conclusion in the man's eyes. Cylons.

  Definitely Cylons! Looking out at the starfield at the placidly drifting

  command ship, he ordered the radio man, Omega, to connect him with

  President Arcon at once. When Arcon answered, there was still that sound

  of partying in his voice. Adama cut that short.

  "One of our patrols is under attack, Mr. President. We don't know

  by whom."

  Arcon's pale face on the monitor altered at the speed of light.

  Adama thought for a moent there was interference affected the picture's

  resolution. The skulking figure of Baltar, his chubby face showing a

  concerned that seemed feigned to Adama, moved into the picture.

  "As a precautionary measure," Adama continued, "I'd like to launch

  intercept fighters."

  Like to? he thought. That was the kind of mealy-mouth
ed phrasing

  Arcon expected from the more servile members of the Quorum of the Twelve!

  In the old days, Adama would have said he was determined to send out the

  intercepts. His stomach churned as he watched Baltar lean in toward the

  president and whisper in his ear. Arcon nodded.

  "Yes, you're quite right, Baltar. Quite right," he said.

  "Commander..." Where did Arcon get off addressing his oldest friend so

  formally? Why did he put such official airs in front of the despicable

  Baltar? "Commander, as a precautionary measure, I insist upon

  restraint."

  "Restraint?!"

  "Yes, restraint. Commander, if this turns out to be an encounter

  with some outlaw traffic, we could jeopardize the entire cause of peace

  by displaying fighters when we are so close to our rendezvous."

  To Adama the Cylon choice of rendezvou point seemed more suspicious

  than ever.

  "Mr. President, I just told you that two of my aircraft are under

  armed attack."

  "By unknown forces. We must receive proper information. You're not

  to launch until the situation is clearer."

  "Sir, may I at least urge you to bring the Fleet to a state of

  alert?"

  Adama's throat tightened, unable to believe he was pleading like

  this.

  "I'll consider it. Thank you, Commander."

  "He'll consider it," Tigh said angrily. He had never been able to

  keep his feelings in. It had lost him a battlestar command post at least

  once. "Has he gone mad?"

  "Colonel!"

  Tigh looked around. Clearly he was a bit embarrassed at the way the

  bridge officers had become ominously silent, listening to them.

  "I'm sorry, Commander," Tigh said. "It's just that...well..."

  "Yes. What?"

  "The patrol under fire. It's, well, it's under Captain Apollo's

  command."

  "Well, if I can't depend on my own son, who can I depend on?"

  "Zac's with him. One of the men took sick and Zac was on the bridge

  at the time, and, well, there was a this little matter of a disciplinary

  nature, a nurse, and I...I..."

  "Enough, Colonel. I understand your concern. But Zac can take care

  of himself as well as his older brother can."

  He turned away from his aide, afraid that the man might read in his

  eyes that he didn't believe a word of what he was saying. In action, Zac

  had good instincts, good moves, but was too impulsive---always had been,

  ever since he was a wild kid stealing rides from every shuttle or

  freighter that he could stow away in. The fact that Zac had raced off on

  patrol was stil another of the wrong things that had gnawed at Adama's

  nerves from the beginning of this strange peace junket.

  For the next few mili-centons, the crew of the bridge worked

  silently, aware of the explosive tension that surrounded their commander