Battlestar Galactica-04-Rebellion

by Richard Hatch

  There was nothing she could do for the security team. Not right now. And that bomb!

  "Dad," Koren said softly, but Jinkrat was already too far away to hear him.

  Athena looked at the boy, torn, and she came to her choice, issuing her orders. "Back to the Galactica, then Daedalus," she told them. "We can do no more here."

  "Apollo, we grieve," Sire Aron said as Apollo and Starbuck watched the Council of Twelve file into their richly appointed chamber.

  "As do I," Apollo said.

  "These deaths weigh heavily," Aron said, turning toward the other council members.

  "You need to know the truth," Apollo said to Aron, surveying the rest of the Council. How many of them could understand? He started to explain the nature of the Ur cloud, how the Tylium reactors couldn't be repaired, how the Viper patrols were the only way out.

  "We understand," Aron said in a soft voice. "But we have… other questions for you."

  "Anything," Apollo said, nodding at the graying council member. Aron and Adama had never gotten along, but he remembered Adama speaking of the old council member with grudging respect.

  "We are considering grounding all of the Viper patrols and other… unnecessary… procedures," Aron said, looking around at the Council.

  Apollo realized that he was asking for their support; wordlessly. There was a different type of command. You're no politician, Apollo, he reminded himself. They weren't all cowards, he thought, looking at the mostly old faces that represented the civilian factions of the fleet.

  Why would someone do that? Become a council member? Baltar had been a member of the Council of Twelve; the high-water mark for his career, he seemed to think. In fact, nearly everything Baltar had ever done had been motivated by his desire for recognition and respect from others.

  The faces of the council—Apollo looked into the eyes of each of them. Yes, some were greedy. Others selfish. Some were even stupid. But others; well, a few truly seemed to care, to want to serve. And still others were there because it was what they were born to do. Sit in a closed room and argue about things that didn't really matter.

  But when a man faced death, he had to fight. You couldn't talk it out with a Cylon; Iblis wasn't some… thing… that could be negotiated with. And talk didn't make food, or fuel.

  So, that was what Apollo said.

  "Apollo," Aron said. "We have other questions. We understand the danger, I assure you. But what happened to the fuel on that barge?"

  "We're investigating," Apollo said.

  "Two hundred men, women and children died. An entire crew! Apollo, we have information that someone… took their fuel," Aron said.

  "What information?" Apollo demanded. "Why haven't you immediately…"

  "There is already rebellion," Aron said, nodding toward the other council members. They were scared, most of them, Apollo realized. He felt his eyes narrowing. They were afraid… of him!

  "What are you saying?" Apollo asked Aron.

  "I am very sorrowful at this… development," Aron said. "But we have reliable information that Starbuck could have saved that ship if he'd had the reserve fuel available."

  "That's true!" Starbuck burst out. "We…"

  "You're a good man, Starbuck," Aron said. "I know that you did everything under your control."

  "We are still investigating the cause of the tragedy," Apollo said.

  "Well," Aron said, sighing and looking as though he'd rather be anywhere but in that chamber. "I'm afraid that the question that needs to be answered is, 'where did you hide those extra fuel cells and what happened to the fuel that should have been on that rescue barge?'"

  "We don't know! I ordered it to be… " Apollo couldn't believe it. Now the whole council was in an uproar, many of them demanding to know "why?" and "where?"

  "Hide those fuel cells?" Starbuck cried. Apollo had.to grab Starbuck's arm to hold him back.

  "Perhaps you are as unaware of the mood in the rest of the fleet as you are of where your fuel is and where the food rations are."

  "A new leader has arisen," Aron said. "One who must be dealt with diplomatically, not with violence and destruction. We have had enough of that."

  Apollo waited for the Council Leader to continue. A glance at Starbuck showed Apollo that his friend looked like he'd rather be facing Iblis and the Cylon fleet single-handed than standing in the Council chambers.

  "What a fracking piece of felgercarb," Starbuck said under his breath. "Diplomatically!"

  "Just hold on," Apollo whispered back, looking toward the rest of the Council.

  "I'm not a mind reader," Starbuck said, loudly enough that Apollo wondered if Aron had heard him, but the old man showed no reaction.

  "We have the situation under control," Sire Aron announced. "The rebel leader has some… demands," he said. "The Council is ordering you to see to it that those demands are met."

  "What demands?" Apollo asked. It went without saying that these rebels shouldn't be negotiated with, but it looked like Aron and the Council had already done a lot of that.

  "They want one sectar's worth of food, delivered directly to their leader," Aron said, "plus additional fuel and a team of med-techs and medicine."

  "What?" Starbuck cried. Apollo silenced him with a nudge—a movement that he hoped the council members wouldn't see.

  "You know as well as I do that we have only three or four sectares of food left," Apollo said. "Our reserves of fuel are very low."

  "Are you quite certain?" Aron asked.

  "Yes," Apollo said. "I have…"

  "Where is the fuel that was to be held in reserve in Bay Three?" Aron asked. His voice was mild. He looked like he regretted every word.

  "I—we don't know," Apollo said.

  Aron sighed. "Under the circumstances, Apollo, the Council has no choice but to take command. You have proven that you have no control over what is happening in the fleet. We have… many questions."

  "What are you trying to get at, Aron?" Starbuck cried. "What type of—"

  "Well, if the fuel was there, where did it go, Starbuck?" Aron asked Starbuck, not Apollo.

  Starbuck shrugged. "Nobody knew," he said. "They were completely…"

  Apollo silenced Starbuck with a quick, angry look. "We will discover what is happening," Apollo said. "Allow us to complete the investigation and I promise the Council a full report in…"

  "Apollo," Aron said. "I am sorry to have to say this. You must believe me. But we are fully convinced that you have allocated the extra fuel reserves for your own use and that… that you knew that ship would never make it to the Rising Star. You knew that those people were already desperate and starving."

  "No!" Apollo cried.

  "Then, what other explanation is there? Who controls the fuel and the food but you?"

  "I…" Apollo said. This was beyond belief. Now he looked at the Council members again, and back at Starbuck, who was staring, openmouthed, unable to believe what was being said. And Aron was so sad; it was obvious that he believed that every word was true.

  "I control it," Apollo said. "I take full responsibility for the tragedy. I am responsible for the rationing. We are—"

  "We are taking control," Aron said. "The Council must institute its civilian authority. Lives are at stake, Apollo. You alone cannot choose who will live and who will die."

  "But I…" Apollo said.

  "I have already spoken with the rebel leader. Perhaps you are unaware of the support that he already has," Aron said.

  Apollo thought of Athena and her mission to the Rising Star, but now was hardly the time to bring that up. And Aron, negotiating behind Apollo's back—behind Tigh's back? What was happening?

  "As I said, we have completed our negotiations with the rebel leader and his faction on the Rising Star," Aron continued. "Fortunately for all of us, cooler heads have prevailed and this man Jinkrat wants only food and medical care immediately, and no further violence."

  "Listen," Apollo said. "Have you been to the sick bay? W
e have no additional medtechs. Dr. Salik is overwhelmed. Even…"

  "Considering our situation, we cannot accept this internal fighting," Aron said. The entire council nodded. Apollo began to realize how Aron had swayed the other council members to his side. They weren't fighters—they never had been. Some of them were hardened politicians and these Apollo knew couldn't be trusted under any circumstances. But just as Sire Adar and all the others had swayed the council against Adama on many occasions, they were permanent civilians one and all. They didn't understand military or security necessities. They never could. It was simply beyond them.

  Why hadn't he seen this coming? But how could he have seen it? People were dying; decisions had to be made every micron. There had been no time to worry about the Council.

  No time.

  And where had that fuel gone? Apollo wracked his brain one more time. Somebody… it had to have been stolen. But who?

  Aron looked deeply worried. The Council was arguing about the rebels. That had to be it, Apollo thought. The rebel leader—this Jinkrat—he'd already taken over the Rising Star, or close to it. Greed: that was it. Jinkrat was greedily trying to take everything. This "negotiation" with the Council—Jinkrat was another junior Baltar rising up.

  "We can't trust these rebels!" Apollo cried, slamming his fist on the council table.

  "Apollo," Aron said softly, leaning close to him. "I'm afraid that it's not the rebels we're afraid of."

  Apollo just looked at the old man, unable to say anything. He didn't need special insight to read the expression on Aron's face, and the deep suspicion that was growing in his eyes.

  "It is you we do not trust."

  "I…" Apollo said, but he realized that there was nothing he could say. He had no answers.

  "Ground all Viper patrols and collect all of the remaining food and fuel into central locations on Galactica and Daedalus," Aron said, his voice suddenly full of firm command.

  "Those are the Council's orders. Disobey them on peril of… treason," Aron said. And then, as though he was grieving, he drew the hood of his cloak up and bowed his head.

  Apollo left the Council Chambers, stunned. But he was soon back into action.

  "Let's get going," he told Starbuck. "I've got to make sure Tigh knows what to do. And we've got to warn Athena. We can't risk their lives on the Rising Star. It's obvious there's a lot more to this rebellion than we thought. That rebel has gotten hold of the fuel; there probably are spies on the Galactica, and Daedalus, too. That's where the barge launched from."

  "What do you have in mind, Apollo?" Starbuck asked, his eyes wide.

  "You'll see," Apollo said enigmatically.

  "Why don't we just go over to the Rising Star and blast all those rebels? Get that so-called… what—Rat?" Starbuck asked.

  "Jinkrat," Apollo said, looking over at Starbuck's furious face. Starbuck would never understand politics. But Apollo was grateful for that; Starbuck could be counted on in a crisis and whatever he said was what he meant.

  "Whatever," Starbuck said. "I'd like to get some time alone with him. What—rat? Bilgerat!"

  Apollo couldn't help but smile as he gave Starbuck a friendly shove in the direction of Blue Squadron's bays. "Get going," Apollo told him. "Just get those Vipers up and I'll keep you posted."

  "Vipers!" Starbuck said. "But…"

  "I know," Apollo said. "But I can't let the Council ground the fleet no matter what they think they're trying to accomplish. We've got big problems with this rebellion right now, but if we don't find a way out of this cloud, this is just the beginning."

  Starbuck nodded, then a grin flashed over his face. "I get it!" he said. "If we're in the air, we—"

  "Can just stay there and buy us some time."

  "Good thinking," Starbuck said.

  Apollo almost made a wisecrack back, but he didn't feel much like it. Lords of Kobol—how could things get worse?

  He left Starbuck and went on to meet Tigh on the bridge. President Tigh; well, the Council had just done a huge end run around him. Apollo knew that Tigh would be furious, but right now, maybe it was better that he was on the bridge, instead of back there struggling with the Council, trying to answer questions that didn't have any answers.

  Apollo desperately wanted to warn Athena that there was more on the Rising Star than they'd bargained for, and hoped that Starbuck could get those Vipers—Blue Squadron and the others—in flight, and keep them there.

  Jinkrat's face was grim as he tried for the third time to reach Council Leader Aron. Aron was the only one of the highborn who seemed to take an interest in his people's plight, something that the Colonial Warriors and Apollo never had.

  Finally, the old man's face appeared on Jinkrat's jerry-rigged comm.

  "Friend," Sire Aron said, smiling broadly.

  Jinkrat didn't return the smile.

  "The Colonials attempted to board Rising Star," Jinkrat informed Sire Aron.

  "What?" Aron cried, his smile disappearing in an instant.

  "Yes, led by Apollo's sister, Athena," Jinkrat said.

  "A tragedy!" Aron cried. "How… how?"

  "No one died," Jinkrat said. "They did not press beyond the docking bay. But…" Jinkrat wrestled with what he would say about Koren to Aron, the only one on Galactica who cared and who had any power. Jinkrat thought a moment, then decided to risk his trust with the old council member.

  "They took my son. He was injured. Athena and a woman of Gemoni, a healer. They are bringing him to Galactica," he said.

  "Lords," Aron whispered, his face full of concern. "You must have…"

  "I did not trust Athena," Jinkrat said. "I warned her. I must…" Jinkrat debated long and hard whether or not to tell Aron about the bomb. At last, he made his choice. Aron had family, too. Jinkrat could not assume that there were only guilty, violent, greedy warriors aboard the Galactica. And, Koren's life was at risk, no matter what. They would probably kill Koren immediately if Jinkrat was forced to detonate the explosive. He had to have a…

  "What is it?" Aron asked.

  "My people have planted an… explosive… aboard Galactica."

  "A bomb!" Aron cried, his white eyebrows shooting up in shock.

  "I had no choice," Jinkrat said, shaking his head. "We have no Vipers. We can defend hand-to-hand only. You know as well as I that they'll simply starve us out if we don't… take action. I had to do this, Sire." Reluctantly, Jinkrat used the older man's title of honor. After all that had happened, with the death of his son during the battle for Kobol, with the years and years of suffering and hopelessness, Jinkrat's respect for the ruling order had fled. But, this man seemed to be their only hope. He'd promised much… perhaps, with the extra insurance of the bomb, and some luck, Jinkrat's people would survive. Perhaps they would all survive.

  Aron drew a breath; the sound wasn't quite a gasp. "The bomb," he said, shaking his head. "What… where have you planted it?"

  "I cannot say," Jinkrat said. "You must understand—when Athena returns, they'll immediately begin searching. And if you know of its location—well, their tactics are well-known." Jinkrat meant torture. He was absolutely convinced that Apollo would go to any lengths to get what he wanted. He had already starved thousands, and even taken the air from that barge, and the lives of its crew and all the people.

  "Oh!" Aron said, very surprised. "Yes, I see. I understand."

  "But there is hope," Aron said.

  "Hope," Jinkrat said. "A word I have almost forgotten."

  "The Council has ordered all Vipers grounded, and food, fuel, healers and medicine sent to you on the Rising Star. You should have—"

  "Praise the Lords of Kobol!" Jinkrat cried.

  "Yes!" Aron said enthusiastically. "We must work together. Perhaps a cease-fire is the next step."

  Jinkrat looked at the Council member. "No," he said. "Not yet. We have no food yet, and have seen nothing of this fuel you promise. After it is delivered, then—"

  "I understand," Aron said. "You have su
ffered much."

  Jinkrat thought of his son, burning with fever, dying in his arms. "I have suffered beyond telling," he said.

  "I… I know," Aron said.

  "So, let us both pray that we receive the supplies as promised. I do not trust Apollo," Jinkrat said. "He may renege. He may not… Aron, my son comes to the Galactica. I want your word as a… as a friend, that you will watch over him."

  "You have my word of honor, by the Lords of Kobol," Aron said. "Farewell." And then he broke the communication.

  Jinkrat took a deep breath and held it. And prayed that it would all come true.

  Praying was hard for Jinkrat. He prayed that Koren would be safe and he had judged right. Jinkrat was grief-stricken father. He'd never touched a rifle or a laser pistol until the last battle before their descent into this horrible place. He'd never thought he'd ever kill a man, either in battle or in anger. Now he had done both. A man crossed bridges, Jinkrat thought. And he had no control of what the Lords of Kobol had in store for him.

  Only he stood between his people and certain death. Even Koren—could Jinkrat save him? Had he sent him, all unknowing, into even worse danger? Even this one remaining son of his, whom he loved more than he loved life itself?

  His fate hung on the word of a man he didn't trust; his boy in the hands of strangers. May the Lords of Kobol protect him.

  If any harm came to Koren, Jinkrat swore softly to himself, Apollo and the warriors and even his sister Athena would see such rage as no man had ever seen. This, Jinkrat swore to himself. And no man would stand in his way.

  Chapter Three

  WITH A word and a nod from President Tigh, Apollo at last went to his sanctuary. Tigh was collecting the food, fuel and non-existent medical supplies that had been demanded. It would be a while before anyone realized they had no way to meet the demand; as Tigh assured Apollo, those pellets were small and likely to be very time consuming to gather and package for shipment. And even more time consuming to account. With all the work they'd done to gather the fuel in the first place, that would take time to account for as well.