"Yes, sir, quite a lesson," Tigh said.
We all watched the throbbing star for some time. I, a doubter like Tigh, was quite affected by the star's appearance during our sealing ceremony. It seemed to portend well for us, a welcome relief from all the other omens that have haunted my dreams.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After the briefest of hesitations, Lucifer played the gold stela on the white colonnade, the right move according to calculations transmitted to him from his game strategy unit. If he could force Starbuck to play the stelae in his hand, then he would have the makings to meld a full stelae to join his already cast-down sequence-of-harvest display. This was the first time since the lieutenant had taught him the Caprican card game, pyramid, that Lucifer saw a good chance to win it. All the analytic advantages of his computer network had afforded him nothing against Starbuck's run of luck. In theory, Lucifer should be able to beat a human every hand. His initial losses he attributed to Starbuck's greater familiarity with the game.
Starbuck looked up from the cards in his hand and said:
"You have the perfect face for this kind of game, chum."
"Why do you say that?"
"Your expression never changes, and I can't make anything out of the way your lights flash. I could use you as a partner in a tour of any gambling casinos we might be able to find in this godforsaken universe."
"Gambling is a trivial waste of my abilities."
"The way you play so far, perhaps you're right."
Starbuck's superior smile was, at the same time, puzzling, annoying, and ingratiating. A high pile of Cylon coins, which he kept tapping, was set on the table in front of him. He had insisted on gambling for something, and even though Cylon money was useless to him, he seemed to take a perverse joy out of winning it from Lucifer. Although the mathematics of the game fascinated him, Lucifer could not understand Starbuck's compulsion to gamble.
"I'm calling your bluff, bright eyes," Starbuck announced, shoving his coins forward. "I bet all my winnings so far that I hold the winning hand. Ready to match?"
Lucifer could hardly believe the man's audacity. How could he win? He was just trying to cast doubt; it was Starbuck who was bluffing.
"Of course I match. I am no longer a novice at your game."
Lucifer pushed an equal amount of coins to the center of the table. Starbuck's smile became broader.
"Sucker," he said. "Got you good this time. Here. Three quarters of a perfect pyramid, lacking only the capstone. And a full sequence-of-medicine. Which, I think, aces you out, chum. Sorry."
Lucifer was crestfallen. The odds against Starbuck's winning that hand were astronomical. And yet he had just the right cards. Was it possible that he cheated? No, not so—his monitoring sensors would have detected emotional output as indication of cheating, and Starbuck had remained calm during the entire game. Or was calmness part of a good cheater's strategy? Would Lucifer ever win this silly human game?
His considerations of game strategy were interrupted by a messenger from command chamber. The message surprised Lucifer, and he realized he should convey it to Baltar immediately. After excusing himself from Starbuck, he rushed to Baltar at top speed. He found the leader pacing a circular path in his spare quarters. The man's stride was restless, and suggested irritability.
"A curious development, Your Eminence," Lucifer said, his overlay personality clicking on as soon as he was in Baltar's presence. "This one will, I am sure, take you by surprise."
Baltar sneered.
"Nothing takes me by surprise," he said. "What is it?"
"A star."
"What star?"
"The report is that a star has appeared as if out of nowhere, and is guiding the Galactica toward what appears to be an uninhabited planet."
"Surely Adama knows I'm closing in for the kill. Why should he—a star, you said. And a planet?"
"The star is weak, although it sometimes displays a momentary brightness. The planet in orbit around it has a breathable atmosphere for your species but no sign of life."
"Of course," Baltar muttered oddly, and resumed his pacing.
"Of course what, Your Eminence?"
"The endless black void. The majestic star in the heavens." He broke into one of his pleasanter smiles. "The trap is about to be sprung, my good friend. What a perfect opportunity, and so unexpected. Now it will be all too easy. Prepare my personal craft."
"Right away, sir. And an escort."
Baltar stopped pacing again and glared at Lucifer.
"No escort. I go alone."
"As you wish."
"And don't get any fancy ideas while I'm gone. Only I can bring the Galactica to your Imperious Leader."
"Of course."
But Lucifer's circuits were buzzing with fancy ideas. Baltar was wrong in refusing an escort. His arrogance might lead him to think he could handle anything by himself, but the man was quite prone to blunder. One mistake on this strange planet, among humans who already hated him, and Lucifer might just be rid of the swaggering, boastful braggart. Then he could return to a position elsewhere, one more useful to the goals of the Cylon Empire.
These thoughts buoyed him as he glided out of Baltar's quarters. Another part of his vast consciousness was trying to arrive at a solution as to how Starbuck could possibly have come up with three-quarters of a perfect pyramid lacking only the capstone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SERINA: All right, I'm going to brave the lion's den now. I've secreted a pair of mikes on my person and the commander won't know it. This is the best time to attempt my little clandestine interview of Adama, while the Galactica is holding steady while our experts scan the planet for information and a likely landing sight. Commander Adama will be, I'm sure, in a contemplative mood. Everything's set. Next sound will come from Adama's quarters.
SERINA: May I bother you for a short while, Commander?
ADAMA: No bother, Serina. Not when it's you. I haven't seen you since the sealing ceremony and, don't worry, I won't embarrass you with any of those unappealing remarks people make to young brides.
SERINA: Yes, I've heard a few choice ones. Thank you, Commander.
ADAMA: And when are you going to stop addressing me so formally? You're my daughter now, after all. Really.
SERINA: Well, yes sir. That's true. But, uh, so long as we remain in jeopardy I think it's best to carry over public formality into private behavior. As much as possible, at any rate. When we're free, I'll be so affectionate you'll wish Apollo had married a less demonstrative woman. But for now. I'm just one of your minions, a lowly cadet.
ADAMA: You may be right. But sometimes I wish all the military formality I have to endure would fade. Not to mention the requirements of duty. Serina, I'm sorry I have to take Apollo away from you so often. It's necessary.
SERINA: I understand, sir.
ADAMA: Well, what's on your mind?
SERINA: Well, uh, this planet that we're going to be shuttling down to soon.
ADAMA: Kobol.
SERINA: Yes. I've heard of it, of course. But what made you so certain that this planet is Kobol, so certain that you risked everything to cross what you yourself have described as a dangerous magnetic void?
ADAMA: I wasn't quite ready for that question. You sound like you've reverted to your career as a newswoman. You don't have a microphone planted here somewhere, do you?
SERINA: Why, uh, no sir. I was just curious.
ADAMA: Yes, I've seen your curiosity in operation. Often. Insidious, you members of the communications profession. And evasive. Exactly the qualities you castigate in your subjects.
SERINA: It seems your distaste for newspeople has a long history.
ADAMA: I'm sorry, Serina. I didn't mean to imply distaste. Distrust, perhaps. But let's not cross swords. Forgive me for being testy. You were asking about Kobol, and my feeling that it had to be on the other side of the void. It's like most of the other choices I've had to make since the Cylon sneak attack on all our home worl
ds. Alternatives made no sense. It seemed there was no other choice. I'd consistently think that perhaps I was overestimating my own judgment, but each time the choice I made seemed the correct one. I felt we must enter the void. It appears that again I've been proven right.
SERINA: Well, we haven't landed on the planet yet.
ADAMA: Well taken. Still, I think it's Kobol.
SERINA: You have faith, isn't that it?
ADAMA: Yes, faith. Is there anything wrong in that?
SERINA: Nothing. If you're right. That's the trouble with faith. For it to work out properly, you have to be right.
ADAMA: You're quite a sceptic, Serina. Do I have to win you over as I did Tigh?
SERINA: That may be necessary, yes.
ADAMA: So be it. What do you know about Kobol?
SERINA: Not much. Some vaguely remembered schoolbook stuff. The mythology says the human race originated there.
ADAMA: See, your choice of words betrays you. Mythology. My word is "religion." I believe in the existence of Kobol. Mythology implies a heroic fiction meant to display the truth of an ideal. Religion implies a faith in the actual existence of what is sometimes believed to be fiction.
SERINA: I'm not sure all our theological experts would accept your interpretation, Commander.
ADAMA: Perhaps not. Still, it's believed that our race flourished on Kobol, for millennia perhaps. According to the—well, religion or mythology, however you like—Kobol was an extraordinarily rich planet, full of resources. However humanity came to be, by divine ordination or biological evolution, our ancestors lived in a near paradise, on a planet capable of providing most of their needs. And it was a civilization of peace. No war was even known. According to the Book of the Word, power struggles over land and wealth were conducted without treachery or combat. There's a great deal more, stories of wonder, achievements that were magnificent, but I believe I should refer you to the archives for them, Serina.
SERINA: I'm a little short on research time but I'll give it a try. Why did the tribes choose to leave Kobol?
ADAMA: Two reasons. First, there had always been a natural urge for progress. Once space travel was perfected, many of Kobol's people satisfied their urge for quests and adventure by exploring those parts of the universe accessible to the primitive early spacecraft. More important, it was known for eons that Kobol would not last eternally. All the prophetic writings said so; science tended to verify the writings. When Kobol's star began to decline and the planet to wither, the tribes of Kobol were ready. It was written in the books of prophecy that, once the tribes had gathered together for their flight, they should first pass through a great void. Once through the void, their search for a habitable section of the universe could begin. The evacuation was started, each tribe forming its own fleet to carry out its people. Think of it, Serina! What a magnificent accomplishment—to move an entire world of people from its home planet to a new set of worlds.
SERINA: Something like the gathering together of colony survivors. In a journey to complete the circle by passing through the void again, it seems.
ADAMA: Yes, exactly. It must have seemed a miracle to the people who experienced the original trip. Although diverse, widely separated habitable worlds had been discovered, no planets that could allow the tribes to remain in close proximity had yet been discovered. The twelve worlds of the three suns was at the time just a dream. Well, I don't have to tell you the story of how we crossed space and found that perfect set of home planets. I'm sure your schoolbooks covered that efficiently.
SERINA: Yes sir, they did. But what of the thirteenth tribe? Schoolbooks were vague on its disappearance.
ADAMA: And suitably, since no logical explanation has yet been offered. The expedition was equipped like all the others. There were no eccentricities of leadership or cultural differences that might have led the tribe to cast out on its own. It was the last to enter the void and it did not appear on the other side. The assumption has always been that it got lost within the void, lost contact with the other convoys, and came out somewhere else in the universe. No trace of it was found. Some have felt that there is a power within the void that can transform time and dimension, and that that power somehow swept up the thirteenth tribe and, while bringing it out at the exact same place as the other twelve, did so in a different time or dimension so that it was not detectable for the other twelve civilizations. Ah. Serina, many explanations have been offered, but they all add up to the same fact, the thirteenth tribe simply disappeared.
SERINA: You, and others, seem to feel that it ended its journey in the legendary place called Earth. What led you to that particular conclusion, if absolutely nothing is known about the whereabouts of the tribe?
ADAMA: Legend's the source of that theory. The wondrous planet Earth had once been discovered by an earlier expedition of explorers. They sent a messenger ship back to report on Earth's resources and its characteristics . . . characteristics that made it the most perfect planet yet found for our colonization. Unfortunately, the messenger ship ran into trouble. A plague wiped out all but one of its crew, and its computer records were destroyed in the subsequent crash on Kobol's surface. The lone survivor died soon after, but not before reporting feebly the messages from Earth. The expedition itself was never heard from again.
SERINA: The idea of Earth remained in the culture as a dream?
ADAMA: In a way, yes.
SERINA: If we don't know where it is, why do we search for it? How can we hope to find it?
ADAMA: The answer to both those questions lies, I pray, down there.
SERINA: On Kobol?
ADAMA: Yes, in the tomb of the last Lord of Kobol. The legend has it that this lord received a communication from another exploration ship that gave precise clues to the location of Earth. He, unfortunately, was a sceptic and did not believe in the hope that Earth represented. He also did not believe his planet was dying. It is said that he arranged for the crew of that exploration ship to be killed, and that he kept the secret of Earth's location to himself. His secret would not have been discovered but for some documents he left behind, documents that were carried to Caprica and enshrined there in the Planetary Museum. Like many old documents they rested in museum cases for some time, before some anonymous but enterprising curator looking for practice in the ancient languages translated the document. It said that the last Lord of Kobol had carried the secret with him to his tomb. The exact wording was vague and later scholars have tried to adduce whether the document meant the statement to be taken literally or figuratively—that is, whether the lord let the secret die with him unrevealed, or whether the secret exists somewhere in the tomb itself. Much of the latter contention centers on the fact of the document. Because it exists, scholars feel the secret must then exist also, in the tomb.
SERINA: And that tomb—it's the reason for this voyage. We're just another exploratory expedition, is that it? Unraveling the mystery of Earth?
ADAMA: That's it exactly, Serina. And my intercom light is flashing. Tigh wishes to speak with me, but—in his usual decorous way—doesn't wish to interrupt us. I'm afraid we'll have to end this little chat, pleasant as it is. Maybe later, Serina, we can—
SERINA: But there's so much more to—
ADAMA: So much more? You make this sound so organized. So much for the record.
SERINA: I'm sorry. Commander. Of course we'll talk later.
ADAMA: Until then.
SERINA: I do hope you find what you seek in the tomb.
ADAMA: I'm sure I will, Serina. I will.
And so that's it. A trip to seek out the solution to an ancient mystery. Is it futile? Or must the commander's dreams be responded to as readily as his orders? Whichever is the answer, I'm going to find out close-up.
The commander, perhaps to satisfy my inordinate curiosity, has assigned me to the landing team. If he finds what he's looking for, I'll be there to see it. And to report it. I hate to admit this, but I am thrilled. After the frustration of not being a newswo
man for so long, I feel now that I've, well, regained my identity. I'm beginning to have faith that these recordings will have some worth, will be more than the trivial digressive meanderings of a woman on the fringe of important events. I will be part of them, and I look forward to it. Eagerly.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lucifer's overlay personality had so weakened, he could barely force it to function. If he did not reprogram it before Baltar's return from Kobol, he was sure that he would become persistently insubordinate to the human tyrant. And that would displease Imperious Leader, initiating doubts about Lucifer's qualifications. The Leader was quick to exile any officer or advisor who stepped out of line. Or, as in Lucifer's case, glided out.
Of course there was a good chance Baltar would not return. The man was either very brave or quite insane, flying his personal shuttle to that planet without even a rudimentary crew. What did he hope to gain by endangering himself? Humans were not, after all, usually considerate of those whom they regarded as traitors. Baltar had insisted he had a plan, but Lucifer felt certain that the plan was written on clouds and soon to be dispersed to the winds.
Before leaving, Baltar had burst in on Lucifer and Starbuck, while the latter was busily flashing a winning hand of cards, a completed colonnade, in Lucifer's face.
"I see the lieutenant is corrupting you, Lucifer, with the vile human habit of gambling."
"Gambling has its uses, Baltar," Lucifer said. "I am interested in the devious ways of humanity. These card games are complexly devious."
"Leastways, they are the way I play 'em," Starbuck said. "Devious is my middle name. Star-devious-buck."
Baltar scowled, unamused by the lieutenant's flippancies.
"I am assigning a shuttlecraft to follow me at a distance, Starbuck. It will take you to the vicinity of the planet Kobol, just outside scanning range of the Galactica. At the proper time, and on my command, you will be released."
Battlestar Galactica 3 - The Tombs Of Kobol Page 12
