Islands in the Sky

  He could not say it, so Adama finished the sentence for him.

  "Caprica."

  Athena, who had been helping plot the course of the Galactica and

  the enemy base ships on a large, translucent starfield map, turned

  suddenly at her father's words.

  "Caprica," she whispered.

  "Helm," Adama said, not looking at her, "bring us around. We're

  withdrawing. Colonel, we're heading for home. Plot the proper..."

  "Father!" Athena interrupted, coming to Adama's side, "what are you

  doing?"

  "Sir," said Apollo, from his other side, "our ships..."

  "This is necessary," Adama said. "We'll leave our ships behind to

  protect the Fleet."

  "But they can't return to us," Athena said.

  "Yes, it is possible for them to return. They can use refueling

  stations to..."

  "If the refueling stations haven't been destroyed, too," Apollo said

  bitterly.

  "Well, Adama said, "those with enough fuel, those that can obtain

  enough fuel, they can, well, they can catch up as best they can."

  "Sir, I must protest!" Apollo said.

  "Later, please," Adama replied.

  "We should tell them, transmit our intentions..."

  "No. If we have any advantage left, any advantage at all, it's

  surprise."

  Adama briefly felt anger toward his two children as they sulked back

  to their positions on the bridge, then he suppressed all emotion as he

  crisply gave the orders that transported the Galactica away from the

  embattled Colonial forces. He tried not to notice that most of the power

  ships in the Fleet were aflame.

  When they had moved out of range of the battle, a bridge officer

  announced that all electronic jamming had ceased.

  "They're clearing the air for their electronic guidance systems,"

  Apollo said.

  "That means the attack is under way," Tigh said.

  "No, sir," said a bridge officer, "we're picking up long-range video

  satellite signals. Everything looks perfectly normal at home."

  Everybody's attention centered on the monitors that displayed scenes

  of Caprica. Adama concentrated particularly on an aerial view that

  showed Caprica's beautiful, pyramidal architecture to a particularly good

  advantage. He had a similar view in his work room at home, not far from

  the scene he was watching. Ila had given the holoview to him. He must

  not think of Ila now.

  Clearly, it was a beautiful day in Caprica's capital city. A

  downtown area bustled with shoppers, a row of residence pyramids appeared

  serene. The communications was picking up broadcast transmissions. It

  all looked so peaceful, so much like the scenes they had all anticipated

  returning to at the conclusion of the peace mission, so ordinary that

  Adama for a moment considered the battle behind them had been proven a

  lie, a dream, and instead they now flew toward a glorious reality.

  "Commander," Tigh said quietly, "perhaps---perhaps we're in time.

  Or maybe, maybe the Cylon attack on our Fleet was just some action of a

  dissident faction, a small anti-peace movement trying to cause trouble."

  "Unlikely, Tigh," Adama said. "Unlikely."

  The wave of Cylon warships appeared suddenly, as if from nowhere, on

  a screen adjacent to the home-planet views.

  *****

  Serina's eyes teared from the steady glaring light bouncing off the

  fronts of the all-glass shopping-mall buildings. In the middle of giving

  orders to her techinicans about where to set up the TV equipment, she

  whispered inot the microphone of her makeup kit, told it to come up with

  something to alter the tear level in her eyes. It produced a steady,

  treated tissue with which she dabbed away the offending moisture.

  Besides acting as a sponge, it also medically soothed her eyes'

  irritation.

  As she attended to her work, many startled passers-by stopped to

  stare at her---the price of being a media personality known all over

  Caprica. For herself, she had grown tired of the face known to millions.

  It was beautiful, sure---with all that long auburn hair, plus the green

  eyes, and the full sensuous mouth, not to mention the slim, curvaceous

  figure that had become the Caprican ideal of beauty---but when you had to

  check it out daily, almost by the centon, on monitors, verifying that it

  was suitable for general viewing, you could easily get sick of suck

  comeliness.

  Her ear-reciever announced thirty seconds to air time, and she got

  into position in front of the camera. As the count worked down to zero,

  she spot-checked the scene immediately behind her. She was pleased with

  the beauty of the flower arrangements, especially the raised

  quarter-circle of brightly colored flowers spelling out the word PEACE.

  Above the word were spread the flags of the the Twelve Colonies. How

  impressive, she thought, and what a marvelous backdrop for the

  celebration that's going to break loose when the peace is officially

  announced. The count reached zero, the red light came on, and Serina

  began her speech.

  "Serina here, at the Caprica Presidium, where preparations continue

  as they have continued through the night for the ceremonies that will

  commence when the long-awaited announcement is beamed here for the peace

  conference. Even though it's early dawn here, large crowds of people

  have gathered all around the Presidium complex. Anticipation is growing

  as Capricans ready themselves to usher in a new era of peace. So far,

  details of the armistice meetings are not coming in as hoped for because

  of an unusual electrical interference blocking out communication. We've

  not even received official announcements regarding the rendezvous with

  the Cylon emissaries. However, as ssoon as information is available you

  will see the first pictures of what has been described at the most

  significant event since..."

  The sound of a distant rumbling explosion was followed by a closer

  earsplitting noise of shattering glass as windows and door panels all

  around the Presidium broke simultaneously, sending shards of glass flying

  everywhere. The cameraman pointed ina direction behind Serina and to

  her left. She turned and looked that way. People near her had stopped

  working. Most of them looked back toward the area where the explosion

  had occurred. A few hurried past her, toward the mall exit. Farther

  away some raucous shouting began. Serina beckoned toward her cameraman

  and soundwoman, while still addressing the camera.

  "Excuse me. Somethig's happened. C'mon, Skyar, Dandra, let's see

  what it is. Excuse me, sir, madam, could you let us by, please! I don't

  know what it was, but it sounded to me like some sort of explosion.

  Perhaps some sabotage from dissidents, if there are such things as

  dissidents on Caprica. Listen to that crackle of glass underfoot. You

  picking that up, Dandra? Yes? Fine, I really don't know what...wait,

  here comes someone. Ma'am, could you tell me what---I guess she's not
/>
  telling anybody anything. She looked scared, I thought. Maybe you

  noticed. Wait a micron, let's see if we can...excuse me, pardon me."

  Elbowing her way through the milling crowd while maintaining

  continual check to see that her crew followed her, Serina forced her way

  to an open spot. Skyar, her cameraman, quickly set up the camera and

  nodded to her to begin.

  "I still haven't figure out what...Oh no! Skyar, get that on

  camera, quick!"

  Skyar pointed the camera where she directed, at the horizon beyond

  the city where a huge brilliant fireball was rising like a drifting but

  erratic sun, followed by another, just as huge and just as bright.

  "A tremendous explosion," Serina said, looking toward her soundwoman

  to make sure it had been recorded. When the aftershock rumble faded, she

  resumed her commentary. "Two explosions. You saw them on camera.

  People are beginning to run in all directions. This is terrible,

  horrible!"

  She hoped her voice was not giving away her feeling that it was

  exciting, also.

  "Nobody seems to know..."

  She was interrupted by a Cylon warship streaking across the sky,

  shotting bursts from laser weapons into the crowd. Around her, people

  started to drop like flies. Oh, my Lords of Kobol," Serina thought, this

  is real! It's war! It's not just a disaster, it's...

  A pyramid to her left exploded with a thunderous roar, a monolithic

  building farther away started to fall forward, splitting away from its

  foundation, pieces of it falling onto a running mob. The whole street

  began to rock and Serina fell unglamorously into a clump of greenery.

  She looked up; Skyar was steadily aiming the camera here way.

  "Not at me, Skyar. The explosions, the fire. This is terrible!

  Ladies and gentlemen, it's terrible! Someone's bombing Caprica City. It

  looks like----Cylons?"

  A fighter swinging low over the city made her duck her head into the

  bushes. It fired in her direction. A young woman running by her plunged

  to the ground. Standing up, Serina started to go to her aid, realized

  suddenly she was dead.

  "She's dead! She's----Skyar, Dandra, we better take cover, we

  better..."

  Throngs of people ran by her, jostled her, almost toppled her over

  again. More explosions, screams, planes firing. Skyar continued to

  point the camera at her.

  "It's hopeless," she said. "People are dying all around me. I

  don't even know if we're still on the air. I see a small child over

  there, running for his...Look out! Look...!"

  Another low-flying plane released another volley of laser fire.

  Skyar was hit along with his camera. Sparks flew from the splitting

  camera as Skyar fell to the ground. Dandra started to run, abandoning

  her soundboard. Serina threw down the microphone, ran toward the young

  boy she had seen chasing after an animal. Another swooping attack

  fighter came down directly at them, its laser cannon at full blast.

  Diving, Serina pushed the child away from the burning laser path before

  it reached them. Holdling the trembling child close to her, she watched

  an entire wave of fighters scream by, their weapons indiscriminantly

  adding to the awesome destruction. A concrete obelisk crashed a few feet

  away. Serina tried to ignore the yells of pain amid the rubble.

  Something fell upon her, and suddenly there was no air.

  One of her arms was still free and she could move it. She began

  frantically digging toward the surface, resisting the driving impulse to

  take a breath. Her arm broke through. She frenetically shaped an escape

  hatch in the dirt and pulled herself and the child into the air. After

  taking a quick inhalation, she pulled the child all the way out of the

  hole and checked him over to ensure he was all right. He was a small

  boy, about six yahrens old.

  "Don't try to move for a micron," she said to him.

  The boy began to cry and Serina pulled him to her, comforting him.

  "Everything's going to be all right," she said.

  "Muffit," the boy said, "where's Muffit?"

  "Who?"

  "My daggit. My daggit. Where is he?"

  "Your daggit? Oh, I'm sure he's fine."

  Daggits, animals native to Caprica, had been easily domesticated by

  the first colonists and had become the favorite choice of pet among

  younger children. Parents liked the four-legged, short-furred rascals

  because, in spite of their playfulness, they always protected children.

  Serina smiled. She was continually amazed by the unique ways children

  focused their concentration. This boy, unaware of the meaning of the

  Cylon invasion, was more concerned about his lost pet than the

  devastation around him. He probably thought finding the daggit would set

  everything right again.

  Although the Cylon fighters no longer flew across the sky, the dust

  from their attack was still settling all around Serina and the boy.

  "Muffit! Muffit!" the boy hollered.

  "I'm sure he's fine, honey," Serina said, trying to make her voice

  sound as if she believed every word.

  A tall man ran toward them, his bloody left arm hanging limp and

  useless at his side.

  "Move everyone!" he shouted. "Move! Evacuate the center!"

  "My daggit," the boy said, "where's my..."

  "This isn't any time to think about..."the man said, but Serina

  waved for him to shut up.

  "C'mon," she said softly. "We've got to go. I'm sure your daggit

  is all right."

  "Please, miss," the man screamed desperately. "The building

  there'll topple at any moment."

  Serina looked in the direction toward which the man's functioning

  arm waved. Before she located the about-to-collapse building, her eyes

  fixed on a pillar from which what looked like a daggit's limbs stuck

  out. Shielding the boy's head, she maneuvered a few steps toward the

  pillar. It was the daggit, all right, crushed underneath the pillar, its

  pointed snout buried in the dirt and rubble. Turning her body so that it

  screened any possible view the boy could have of the dead animal, she

  pointed in the opposite direction and said:

  "There he is, must've been him, running that way. Let's go have a

  look."

  "I want Muffit. Is he all right?"

  She picked up the boy, held him close.

  "Sure, he's all lright. Everything's all right. Everything's going

  to be just fine. Just fine. Do you have a name, honey?"

  "Boxey."

  She wiped some of the dust form the boy's face. He was a

  cherub-faced child, with large brown eyes and a shock of curly brown hair

  hanging down on his forehead. She imagined that a shock of hair was

  continually getting in his eyes.

  "Hello, Boxey," she said.

  She looked past him, at what remained of the city. Not much

  remained. The buildings that still stood were rocked with explosions,

  bursting with fire. The wounded
man pulled at her with his good arm, and

  still carrying Boxey, she began to run. She did not look back at the

  sound of the crashing buildings behind her. As they hurried pat the

  place where her camera had been originally set up, in front of the floral

  arrangement spelling PEACE, she noticed that the flowers had been

  completely buried and that the flags of the Twelve Colonies were in

  flames.

  *****

  Athena kept glancing covertly at her father to check on his

  reactions to the dreadful slaughter they were all helplessly viewing on

  the Galactica's multi-screened communications console. Most people would

  have expressed the opinion that Adama was emotionless, that he didn't

  react at all to the holocaust, but Athena knew better. She detected the

  somber pain in his eyes. He stood stiffly, nodding at the reports of his

  officers, but Athena could tell he was thinking of her mother, who lived

  in a suburb of smoking pile of rubble that had once been Caprica City.

  She wished they could leave their duties, be father and daughter again

  for just a centon, go to a quiet room and hold each other. But that was

  impossible. Mother's got to be all right, she thought, she's got to be!

  Tigh had moved to his commander's side with the latest report.

  "Sir," he said, "long range scanners are picking up Cylon base

  ships. They're launching to all outer planets."

  Athena, hearing this, wanted to slam her fists down on the panel of

  gauges in fron toher. A conversation she had had just a few days ago

  with Zac and Apollo came back to her vividly. She had been arguing with

  them about the coming peace mission, contending that the Cylons could be

  trusted. They were at the very least an intelligent race. Apollo said

  Cylons might have technological prowess, but he wasn't so sure they could

  be described as intelligent, at least in human terms. It was an old

  argument, one that she had had in countless times since joining the

  service. Cylons might be intelligent, but they were certainly not

  compassionate; they were hardly, in fact, emotional at all. Apollo, like

  many others, believed that the ability to feel was necessary for

  intelligence. Athena held to her belief that the Cylons might have

  feeling, must have emotion, it just wasn't describable in human language.

  Since their cultural systems were so entirely different, she argued, we

  must search for and discover the other differences, too.

  Their argument had become quite heated, although she and Apollo knew

  the debate itself was ancient, almost ritualistic. Zac broke it up by

  laughing suddenly and saying they should all get "falling down drunk" in

  order to make their argument more logical. They all laughed. Their

  father, walking in on the hysterical trio, chided them for siliness below