The Cylons' Secret: Battlestar Galactica 2

by CRAIG SHAW GARDNER

  He had enough food for months. He had enough firepower to last a lifetime.

  But to what end?

  There were times when he just sat.

  He had water. He had food. He had his thoughts.

  Tom Zarek had a bit too much time to himself.

  He wondered why he was the only one to survive.

  He went over the whole sequence of events. Although it had seemed to take a very long time, he was sure the battle had not taken more than a couple of minutes.

  He saw himself walking ahead to greet the welcoming committee.

  He wondered if Ajay had even gotten the message on his faulty equipment. Or had he seen something from on top of his Vipe? He saw the white Butler model cut off Zarek from the old man. Were the Cylons already planning to attack?

  He had no way to know.

  The whole thing was rather ironic.

  Of all those from Lightning, he was probably the worst fighter in the bunch. He had been in a few street brawls when he was down on his luck, but nothing with guns or grenades or even knives. The others had been with Nadu longer, and from their stories had seen all sorts of action. Boone was the type of guy who seemed able to do anything. And the Creep—well, Zarek imagined he’d killed quite a few.

  Tom realized he was alive because he was the only one not brandishing a gun. His role as peacemaker, and his proximity to the old man, had saved him.

  But one Vipe pilot got shot through the head, the other blown out of the sky. Boone died with a final blast of defiance, and gave Zarek a chance to jump into the lander. He still wished he knew what had happened to the Creep. Before this, Tom had thought that guy could have slipped free of anything.

  It was far too still out here. He heard the wind and a strange whooping sound in the distance. He guessed it was a native bird. At least there was something else alive! But he listened for other sounds, he listened for voices. Was he waiting for the Cylons? For rescue?

  Sometimes, he felt as though the others who died would come to haunt him.

  He thought he heard a noise, then, out in the trees. Was it the Cylons at last? He didn’t breathe for a long minute. Nothing followed. Maybe the local wildlife was getting a little closer.

  He shifted his position—he was sitting by the lander—and listened again. He heard nothing but that odd and distant bird noise. If something had been rustling around in the underbrush, it had probably been scared away.

  He needed to get out of his head and back to work. He looked at the lander. If he couldn’t get at any useful wires from the inside, maybe he could get something out here. The crash landing had given him a ready-made hole. He stuck his fingers in the ragged space, then pulled his hand free—the edges were sharp. He pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around his hand, then carefully placed his cloth-wrapped fingers back in the hole. He gave the piece of metal a tentative tug. The whole thing came away from the ship with hardly any effort. And it revealed a gift from the gods—a mass of wires, all far longer than he needed.

  Tom quickly stepped inside the ship to fetch the tool kit. The right wire could get the comm system up and running. He could listen for his rescuers, maybe even send out a distress call. And what if the Cylons picked it up? If he was stuck out here long enough, Zarek realized, he wouldn’t care who got it, as long as he got out of the wild.

  Many of the wires seemed to branch off some sort of junction box, just below the edge of the torn metal hull. If he could just pry one of them loose. He took a small rod with a sharp edge from the tool kit, and poked it toward the junction. It slipped past the wires and cut into some soft membrane. A dark, heavy liquid squirted along Tom’s arm and into his face.

  He cried out, leaping out of the way as the liquid arced briefly out of its new opening. It stopped after only a few seconds, but the damage had been done.

  Frak it all! Tom used his shirt to wipe the stinging liquid out of his eyes. It itched where it had made contact with his skin. He realized he had better wash it off as quickly as possible. He dropped the tools on the ground and headed for the stream.

  This is what he got for trying to be a mechanic. He jogged quickly to the water and plunged his arm into the cool, flowing stream. To his relief, whatever the viscous fluid was, it came off easily, leaving only the slightest of red marks behind. He dunked his head in the water to clean off his face, then threw his shirt into the water, too, to see if the water would clean off the stuff that had gotten rubbed in. This was his only shirt. If he lost this, all he had left was an atmosphere suit.

  He lifted the shirt from the water to take a closer look. The dark stain had turned a dull gray. Maybe if he scraped it on some rocks.

  He stopped looking at the shirt when he saw the other face staring at him. It was a face between the trees, on the far side of the stream; the face of a young woman.

  His mouth opened. There were other humans here? He stood up quickly.

  “Hey!” he called.

  The face had disappeared.

  “Hey! Who are you? Don’t run away!”

  He heard crashing in the bushes, and then nothing. Not even the strange calls of the local birds.

  CHAPTER

  17

  Adama landed by himself, and without incident, on the empty landing field.

  “Welcome to Research Station Omega,” the now familiar voice announced over the wireless. “We will come out to meet you.”

  Adama stepped out of the shuttle. He saw the doors open wide on the side of a building at the far end of the field. Three men stepped through the door and walked toward Adama’s shuttle. They were followed by three Cylons a moment later.

  Adama opened the shuttle door and stepped outside.

  As the six others walked toward him across the field, Adama noticed that one of the men kept glancing behind himself at his metal companions. They were close enough now so that Adama could recognize the three different Cylon model types. Adama had fought the Warriors, and had run across a few of the Mechanics. He didn’t think he had seen a Butler model since before the war.

  The party hesitated maybe fifty paces away.

  Adama supposed there would be tension at their first meeting, but this seemed particularly awkward.

  He took a few quick steps away from the shuttle and toward the other party. He was careful to keep a good amount of room between them.

  He saluted the assemblage, human and Cylon, and spoke in a voice loud enough to cover the distance between them.

  “Colonel William Adama, of the Colonial fleet.”

  All six of them bowed slightly in return. Adama wondered if this was some anarchic custom from the Picon High Court. It certainly looked exceedingly formal.

  The three humans were all male, one quite old, the others much younger. The elderly man at the center of the group spoke first.

  “I am very, very glad to see you.” He waved to those around him. “All of us are glad to see you. I am Doctor Villem Fuest.”

  He turned to the three Cylons behind them. “May I introduce you to Gamma, Beta, and Epsilon. Three of our companions.” He pointed to the Butler model, the Mechanic, and the Warrior in turn. Seeing them this close, Adama realized the models were slightly different from those he remembered from his younger days, when Cylons and humans shared the same worlds.

  These are not the same Cylons I have fought. He would have to remind himself of that as long as he was here.

  Adama realized he was expected to say something. “You’ll have to forgive me. This is the first time I have seen Cylons in over twenty years.”

  The doctor shook his head. “They are Cylon in design, perhaps. But our companions are a new breed of being. We have tried to change our way of thinking here. And we have had a great deal of success.”

  “I’m eager to hear about it,” Adama replied. “My people are eager to hear your whole story.”

  The doctor glanced at the young men to his left and right. “Oh. But I haven’t introduced Jon and Vin.” Adama guessed the younger men
would be in their early twenties, close in age to the Viper pilot recruits back on Galactica.

  “But as to this project,” the doctor continued. “Whatever happens, I would want this center to go on. With the proper supplies, perhaps we can still invent the perfect society.”

  Many things were possible. But after all that had happened in the war, could Cylons and humans ever work together? Adama would do his best to reserve judgment.

  “But what do you want from us?” the doctor asked.

  Adama had rehearsed this answer on his way down to the planet. “First and foremost to reestablish contact. We have been sent by the Colonies to explore all those outlying regions once settled by humanity, to claim them again as our own. They’re curious at home to see exactly what is still out here.”

  The Cylon Butler—Gamma was its name—stepped forward and spoke briefly with the doctor.

  Fuest looked back to Adama.

  “I’m afraid some of us are not quite so trusting of your intentions. The companions already see problems.”

  “We did as you asked,” Adama replied. “I came down, alone and unarmed, the executive officer, second in command on the Galactica. I think that should be symbol enough of our good intentions.”

  Gamma spoke directly to Adama. “We know about your Viper escort.”

  Adama replied directly to the Cylon. “We made promises as to who would come down here. We made no promises as to who would be in the air. So, yes, we have Vipers on alert.” He paused before asking, “And you are without contingency plans?”

  The Warrior Epsilon stepped forward. “Our weapons are stored where we can obtain them quickly.”

  That statement made one of the young men—the same one, Jon, who had turned back to the Cylons—look rather uncomfortable. Adama resolved to talk to Jon at his first opportunity.

  The doctor turned to the Cylons. “This isn’t like before. This is civilization. These people come from the Colonies that created this station.”

  “Would you like me to send the Vipers away?” Adama asked. “We can have more of our people come down shortly, after we talk more about what we both need.”

  The doctor smiled and shook his head. “No, no, why not have them come down and join us now? That way, neither side will look as though they are threatening the other. We will welcome them as well as you.”

  Adama was a bit surprised by that response. He did his best not to show it. “Either way, I’ll have to send a message from my shuttle.” Adama pointed at the small ship behind him.

  “Why don’t you do so?” the doctor agreed. “I’m glad, this time, that neither of us has had to jump to conclusions.” He shook his head. “We had earlier visitors, quite recently. It did not go well.” The doctor looked down at his hands, then back at Adama. “I’ll tell you about them when you are done with your call. Most unfortunate.”

  “We saw signs of raiders in the area,” Adama replied. “Is that who you are talking about?”

  “Yes, raiders,” Epsilon agreed. “We sent them away.”

  “Perhaps we could take you on a quick tour,” the doctor said a bit too brightly. “If you want, I’ll certainly let you look at our records. We’ve done great things here. I would hate to see them end.”

  “Well, we’re certainly willing to help out however we can,” Adama said. “We are a fully stocked ship. Our supplies are at your disposal.”

  The smile fell from the doctor’s face. “What do the Colonies want? What will you do with us?”

  “We have no orders concerning you. Until a few hours ago, we didn’t even know you existed. What would you like to receive from us?”

  The doctor thought a moment before replying.

  “I think I would like to see Picon again. As to the youngsters, I guess you would have to ask them.”

  “How many youngsters are there?” Adama asked.

  “One more besides Jon and Vin. Our human population is not what it once was.”

  That led to the next obvious question. “And how many Cylons?”

  “Our companions?” The doctor turned to Gamma. “Close to one hundred.”

  “Ninety-seven,” Gamma spoke up. “Four of that number are currently undergoing repair.”

  “After the accidents. Companions could be rebuilt. Humans could not.” The doctor smiled apologetically. “I would hope we could have new scientists come out here and continue our work at close to the old levels of staff. We were so close to success before the accidents.”

  “Let me make a call,” Adama said, waving back at the shuttle, “and then I’ll be ready for that tour.”

  “Most certainly,” the doctor agreed. The rest of his party, both human and Cylon, stood silent.

  Adama returned to his ship. This meeting was awkward, but it did not seem threatening. His first impression was to trust this odd mix of man and machine—for now. If they were truly open about their records, the Galactica might even be able to discover important data concerning the Cylons—data that could help them get ready for the next time humans and Cylons met.

  He settled into the pilot’s chair and clicked on the wireless.

  “Shuttle One to Galactica. I need to talk to the admiral.”

  “He’s been waiting for your call,” the voice on the other end replied. “I’ll put you through.”

  “Colonel Adama,” Sing’s voice answered an instant later.

  “Admiral Sing,” he replied.

  “Good to hear from you, Bill. What’s your status down there?”

  “Our initial meeting went well. They seem friendly enough, and I believe they are sincere. But it’s also obvious that they haven’t had visitors in a very long time. They are aware of the Viper escort circling overhead. And they aren’t particularly happy about it. They asked if the three Viper pilots would like to join me, and I told them I’d do my best to get them down here. Frankly, I could do with some friendly company.”

  “So you think there’s nothing more to the research base than what we were sent by Picon? It’s just an old Colonial project that managed to survive?”

  “That’s my first impression. They seem to be opening up to us to a point. But this human-Cylon interaction is very strange. It’s throwing off my judgment in everything. That’s the best reason for the Viper pilots to join me. I could use a few more sets of eyes.”

  “Very good, Bill. I’ll order the three Vipers to come on down with you. And I’ll ready Plan Beta, in case you get into any trouble.”

  “Copy that, Admiral. Adama out.”

  Plan Beta would put twice as many Vipers in the air at the first sign of trouble. Bringing the first three Vipers down was a gesture of peace, but that gesture had an iron fist hidden just behind it. But it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone on this station that a Battlestar would be prepared to respond to any aggressive act.

  Adama wondered if Fuest would even think of such a thing. Maybe it was being cut off from society for so long, but the elderly doctor seemed strangely innocent, as though he couldn’t imagine one side striking against the other. From Gamma’s actions out in the field, Adama guessed that these new Cylons were fully capable of fighting the Colonial fleet.

  Adama realized he was all too ready to return the favor. He hoped it got no worse than simple mistrust.

  He rose from his seat and exited the shuttle once more, ready to get a look at the rest of Omega Station.

  “Viper One.”

  Tigh was surprised to hear the admiral’s voice.

  “This is Viper One,” he replied.

  “Colonel Adama needs a little help. He wants you to come down and join him.”

  “Is he in trouble?”

  “Negative. Everything’s peaceful. Let’s just say he’s unsure if there are any hidden situations. He just wants a couple extra pairs of eyes to take a look around. So you three are going to go down and join him.”

  Wouldn’t that make all four of them much more vulnerable? “Are you sure about that?”

  “Sure enough
to be making this order personally. Go down, take a look, and report back to the Battlestar. And no weapons. We don’t shoot at them until they shoot first. Understood?”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Good. Bill trusts you on this, and so do I. Remember, you’re going down to look at a Picon Colony Science Station. But you’ll let me know when you find something else. Sing out.”

  “Copy that.” Tigh didn’t have a good feeling about this. But they were going down. Admiral’s orders.

  He opened the comm link to the other pilots. “Athena? Skeeter? You’re with me. Colonel Adama needs us down on the planet.”

  “We’ll follow you down,” Athena’s voice replied.

  “But the Cylons, sir—” Skeeter began.

  Tigh cut him off. “Colonel Adama knows what he’s doing. We’ll land in close formation. Just stick close to me.”

  “Should we take any defensive measures, sir?” Skeeter asked.

  “Definitely not,” Tigh replied. “If Adama’s down there asking for us, he’s determined that the Cylons are not an immediate threat. The admiral personally told me that, when we leave our Vipers, we will do so unarmed. Is that understood?”

  “If you say so, sir,” Skeeter said without conviction.

  “I say so, so let’s go. Delta formation.” That would keep the other two Vipers just behind and to either side of his lead.

  Tigh hoped his own feelings were wrong. He would trust Adama above just about anybody.

  But he didn’t want to just hand over three Vipers to the Cylons.

  CHAPTER

  18

  She ran.

  Why hadn’t Laea spoken to the stranger? She had been almost as startled seeing him that close as he was to see her. He was the first man she had ever really glimpsed, up close, outside of her immediate family.

  Maybe the lack of a shirt surprised her more. He had stood there, his chest bare, looking tired and lost in the middle of the woods. She hadn’t seen her brothers without some part of their clothes since the three of them had been ten. Everyone was always fully dressed. It was the way it was done on Picon, and they carried over those traditions here. She could hear the doctor say those words as she thought them. He always said there was a proper way to do everything.