Battlestar Galactica 1

by Glen A. Larson

  Now he wondered if such accumulations of trivial data as that under which he presently suffered were roughly comparable to what that scientist had called boredom. He did not have to consider this offensive proposition for long, since some important new information suddenly came through. The centurion on Carillon had finally transmitted a message. He had entrenched himself in an underground cavern of the planet, and was in communication with their Ovion allies. They had told him that the humans definitely had arrived in the Carillon sector. Some of them were already in Ovion sway, others hovered in orbit around the planet on the battlestar Galactica and a few other ships. Their fighter ships had destroyed large sections of the minefield which the Cylons, by treaty arrangement with the Ovions, had encircled the planet to protect the secret fuel supply which had been at Cylon disposal ever since they had originally enslaved the Ovions and transported them to the uninhabited planet. The leader, satisfied to be back in real action again, transmitted the order that a large fleet of Cylon fighters on the planet Borallus be put in readiness to travel to Carillon sector. Then he relaxed, satisfied that what he felt now—the waves of important information—was not in any way the quality humanity endured under the name of boredom.

  In the viewer by Adama's desk, the image of the planet Carillon appeared benign. The figures on the report in his hand confirmed the wisdom of his decision to come here. Not only could they replenish food and supplies easily, but they would obtain enough Tylium to power the entire ragtag fleet for some time. Activating his private comline, he began recording his log.

  "The Ovion people have extended to the survivors of the colonies every measure of goodness and support we might have hoped for. It is now possible to foresee the entire fleet able to resume our voyage soon, within a—"

  There was a knock on the door. Adama shut off the comline and hollered, "Come in."

  Colonel Tigh entered the room, looking troubled. Tigh was always finding something to worry about, especially if the worriment could be written up in a report.

  "Nothing can be as bad as you look, Tigh. What's happened?"

  "It's this report, sir, from the surface."

  "It's a very optimistic report. Colonel."

  "Too optimistic. Uri has everyone in the fleet breaking in the bulkheads to get down to the surface, and none of them're volunteering for work details either."

  Adama had a mental picture of Uri addressing the weary people left aboard the Galactica. The councillor had a way of using his maturely handsome looks with a political sense of strategy. With the food stores so desperately low, it was no wonder they would respond to Uri's suggestions.

  "Well," he said, "perhaps Uri has a point. Perhaps we could allow some of our people to visit the surface. In small numbers, an orderly rotation. What's wrong, Tigh?"

  Tigh cleared his throat before speaking again:

  "I'm afraid it's too late for cautious plans, sir. Uri's already authorized visitors permits to half our population."

  "Half the population! Countermand those orders immediately."

  "I'm afraid we can't. As a member of the council, Uri has the right to make certain nonmilitary decisions. If you'd stayed on as president, well—"

  "Don't rub it in, Colonel." The commander sighed. "Okay, do what you can to stem the tides. How are the work parties coming?"

  "Very well. Livestock're being well fed and the first agricultural growths have sprouted."

  "All right, Colonel, carry on."

  Adama considered what Tigh had told him. Uri could not be allowed so much political license, and it was dangerous to send so many people down to the surface. Contingency plans would have to be devised. As he picked up the electronic recording stylus to begin making notes, there was another knock on his cabin door. He shouted, "Come in!" It was Athena.

  "Request permission to travel planetside," she said.

  "Why are you asking me?" Adama asked. "I thought Sire Uri was handing out permits like friendship gifts."

  Athena reacted with surprise to her father's hostility, but said, "I wouldn't go down there with his blessing on a bet, Father. And I won't go if you say no."

  He was about to reject her request, but something sad in her eyes made him say, "It's all right. You might as well go. You need the relaxation more than most, you've been working so—"

  "It's not relaxation I'm after."

  "Oh? Starbuck again, is it?"

  "Maybe."

  "I know he's down there, and that he discovered that casino. With Starbuck, a casino must have seemed his rightful gift from the gods. I thought you were mad at him."

  "I am."

  "But—I think I can guess. That woman you caught him with. She's in one of Uri's visitor parties, isn't she?"

  "Maybe."

  "Well, give her hell."

  "Is that to be interpreted as an order, Sir?"

  "Give 'em both hell, ensign."

  "Yes, Sir!"

  He smiled at the brisk way she turned on her heels and exited the room.

  As he took up the stylus again, his communicator buzzed. It was Tigh.

  "Fuel has begun to arrive by tanker-shuttles from the Ovion Tylium mines, Sir."

  "I detect disturbance in your voice, Colonel."

  "Well, the supplies are smaller than Captain Apollo arranged for. The Ovion leader sent up some sort of flimsy excuse that they weren't prepared for such a large order just now. Yet, from the reports we've had from Apollo and the others, that excuse doesn't seem justified."

  "I see. Well, stay on top of it, Colonel."

  The moment Tigh had signed off, Adama raised the stylus and began writing furiously into the recording log. He felt the need for precautionary measures even more. Extraordinary measures.

  When he had finished outlining his contingency procedures, he buzzed Tigh.

  "Yes, Sir?"

  "Prepare my shuttle. I'm going down to the surface. I want to see this paradise for myself."

  "Sir, are you sure—"

  "Are you suggesting I should get permission from Sire Uri?"

  "No, Sir! The shuttle will be ready."

  Adama swivelled around in his chair, pleased at the tingling sensation in his fingers, the feeling of blood pulsing through his veins. He had not felt this ready for action in some time.

  FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:

  I used to imagine paradise when I was a kid. While I don't remember very many details of my image of the place, I know there were a lot of toy airplanes and most everything was blue. My more adult visions of paradise put me in the center with all I wished for available on call. Athena says she imagines paradise as her very own battlestar to command. Tigh's is one where no paper exists. Our paradises tend to be solipsistic dreams in which there is either more of everything we think we love and need, or we are awarded gifts of all that's usually denied us. Seems to me the point is that, in all our paradises, we don't pay heed to the slaves who are the rest of the population in our ideal imaginary lands. A paradise, which should suggest expansion of human potential, is usually a reduction, generally to the state of inertia. People lounge in paradise a lot more than they do in life, or even want to do. The Carillon paradise was in reality a trap, as false as the peace offer of the Cylons or the pleasant words of Count Baltar. We humans have an unfortunate tendency to welcome traps if we can find some way to call them paradises. Be content, the Ovion queen Lotay said. And we can be content if we don't have to think of the slaves or the inertia, so long as there are plenty of toy airplanes and everything is blue.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Adama had visited Tylium mines before, but the Ovion one resembled no other mining operation he'd ever seen, especially when one viewed it from the mammoth underground cavern and contemplated the seemingly infinite depths. Its network of cells was an amazing phenomenon to anyone familiar only with deep-sunk tunnels and shafts. Adama felt uneasy. The workers, live beings after all, moved like machines. The Ovion guards stood too near them as if overseeing every action. It all had the
smell of slave labor about it, and he didn't like it.

  During the tour, Lotay's soft but raspy voice had supplied the kind of statistics that generally awed visiting committees. She finished off by describing her operation as the most efficient Tylium mine anywhere.

  "It's a testimony to communal order," Councillor Uri said obsequiously.

  "Thank you," Lotay replied. "Now allow me to show you some of the finer points of Ovion existence."

  She led them to the banquet room, where the enormous feast had been replenished. The councilors crowded the table like men starved for some time—which, of course, they were.

  Although Adama had also suffered the rigors of privation, he was not quite so eager to accept Ovion hospitality, and he held back from the banquet. The vigorous music being played on a host of stringed instruments agitated his nerves.

  "This is too much to expect," Uri said, slivers of food dripping from the corners of his mouth.

  "We have plenty," Lotay said. "We wish to aid you. As many of your people who desire it are invited to be our guests."

  Uri, triumphant, whirled on Adama.

  "And you, Commander, wanted to deny our people such a kind and generous invitation?"

  Adama felt uncomfortable under the man's piercing gaze. For the moment all the cards were in Uri's hand, and Adama could only reply, "I suggested only a small rotation and not a mass descent upon—"

  "But I thought time was our greatest consideration," Uri interrupted, talking in between sips of a purplish liquid. "The more people we bring down here at once, the sooner we can be on our way, get back to the others. You know, I think it might be wise to consider, once all the ships are refueled and converted to hyperspace, bringing them all here to enjoy the hospitality of this planet. Perhaps, with a little work we could even settle here. That's the best idea I've had in a long time, I must consider it."

  Uri's proposal, clearly a political one, drew a murmured approval from the other members of the council on the tour, even from Anton, who was usually not quick to agree to anything. Adama decided not to reply to the challenge in Uri's voice. It was never wise to argue with a politician well on his way to inebriation. And, back on the sober decks of the Galactica, the others would see that his proposal was nonsensical.

  Adama turned to Lotay and said, "May I ask how our request for Tylium is being received?"

  "We have already prepared and processed the first shipment for you, have we not?" Lotay said, her voice sounding much too political for Adama's comfort. Trying to interpret a possibly calculated move of an alien seemed too much to ask of himself after just enduring Uri's insidious strategies.

  "Yes, we boarded the first load of liquid Tylium," he said. "However, I understand there's to be a delay in obtaining more."

  The pinched lower part of the queen's face managed a quite humanlike pout.

  "Our processing procedures are antiquated," she said. "It takes time to process the ore, and we were not prepared for such a large order. You did come upon us as something of a surprise, after all. Generally, we are not called upon to process the ore into a liquid state for an entire space fleet."

  "Oh? What purpose do you usually process it for? Or should I ask whom you process it for."

  "Our records are not for the perusal of our clients, Commander. We are industrious, but we are also small, and we have every reason to fear any intruder, especially those who blast their way through our protective layers. However, we appreciate the scope of your order, and are also appreciative of the profits for us in a transaction of this nature. But we must take time and you must have patience."

  Lotay's smile, intended to be ingratiating, was so false it gave Adama a pain in the pit of his stomach.

  "I think we press our luck, Commander," Uri said, his fingers working frantically at what seemed to be a piece of bluish meat. "Let us not be rude in the face of such hospitality."

  "Please enjoy yourselves," Lotay said. "Be our guests. Be well fed, entertained. Be content."

  The queen slinked backward toward the arched entranceway, giving the appearance more of a loyal slave than a regent. Adama stopped her movement by saying:

  "You aren't joining us?"

  She glanced back at the food table without much interest. A vague smile crossed her face.

  "No. I am afraid not."

  With a graceful bow, she swept out of the room.

  "Well," Uri said, edging toward the commander while peeling a lumpy lavender fruit, "I don't think there can be any doubt as to our decision. It will take time to obtain the Tylium. We will give every person an opportunity to share in our bounty down here on Carillon."

  "But Uri—"

  "Yes."

  All the members of the council were looking at Adama with intense interest.

  "Never mind."

  Adama sensed their unanimity of opinion. They all nodded their agreement with Uri while stuffing their mouths with all manner of foodstuffs. A nauseous feeling growing in his stomach, Adama couldn't force himself to go near the banquet, and he sat instead in a plushly upholstered chair by the doorway. He could not look at the men crowded around the food table. They were his fellow humans but, at least for a moment, they looked to him more like insects than any of the Ovions did.

  Joining her queen in the corridor, outside the banquet rooms, Seetol fell in step with her as she set a brisk pace down the passageway to the concealed pod elevator. The tiny spikes along the queen's body now glowed in a bright yellow, as they always did during those rare moments when Lotay felt high excitement. Before descending to the throne-room level, she surveyed the tunnel in front of the elevator, clearly making sure there were no spying humans. Beckoning to Seetol to accompany her, she entered the elevator and went down to the throne room. As the queen walked out of the elevator in front of her, Seetol felt a surge of desire for her.

  Lotay approached the throne but, instead of sitting on it, dropped to a most graceful and regal curtsy in front of it. Seetol became aware of the tall Cylon centurion sitting on the throne.

  "By your command," Lotay said. It annoyed Seetol to watch her beloved queen act so subserviently to a Cylon. Seetol hated these helmeted arrogant creatures even more than humans and resented their hold over the Ovions. Worse, she was afraid of them.

  "Many of the humans are here now, but their commander has only allowed a few of his warriors to land. The rest stand alert on the battlestar."

  "That will change as they grow secure in your hospitality. After all, who has more experience dining with humans than you?"

  "You are most gracious, centurion," Lotay said. "We live to serve you."

  "And serve us you will. Our leader intends to eradicate every human left in this sector of space. Except, of course, those useful to your people."

  "As you wish."

  "As soon as we can lull the human forces and can ambush the battlestar, we will. Our leader appreciates your cooperation and pledges to continue his protection of the Ovions as part of our glorious Alliance."

  "We are pleased, centurion."

  Lotay bowed and nudged Seetol to bow with her. Even though the act disgusted her, Seetol obeyed her queen's bidding.

  When Greenbean reported in that the Galactica's agricultural project on Carillon was now being harvested, Apollo realized that he had lost all sense of time. No wonder his father had seemed testy with him when he had shuttled up to the Galactica to provide reports on all the activities of the humans on Carillon, including the rest and recuperation in the casino and food rooms. His father had, Tigh told Apollo, been particularly disturbed by his own visit to the Ovion mine and the recreation area. Adama had not seemed interested in the statistics, nor in Apollo's overall conclusion that their mission was not only proceeding ahead of schedule, it was overwhelmingly successful. When Adama said he felt disturbed by something he could not put his finger on. Apollo told him that he had felt the same way at first, but the obvious happiness of their people during their visits to the surface had quelled his appreh
ensions. Adama said that was exactly what was wrong, exactly what he couldn't put his finger on. The discussion with his father had left Apollo feeling even more disoriented.

  Tonight he would forget all that, he decided, tonight he would snatch pieces of the fun that everybody else had been enjoying for the better part of two Carillon days. Serina had agreed to accompany him to the casino, and who knew to what else, and he was going to enjoy himself for a change. Only the lure of the lovely Caprican newswoman could have coaxed him into his dress blues for any occasion, and he felt quite joyful as they entered the casino. Serina, holding onto his arm, had changed to a long-skirted, flowing, lavender dress, and she looked gorgeous, so much so that even the more fanatical of the gamblers glanced up from their games to take a look at her. Those people who were not engaged in the gambling activities could not get their fill of the substances on the food tables. The gambling itself was more raucous and joyous than any betting or playing activities Apollo had ever seen before. He got the impression that everyone was winning. Perhaps Starbuck's luck was rubbing off on everybody.