"Paradis is my opportunity," he said. "I propose a toast. To the opportunity that comes once in a lifetime!"
She was feeling more relaxed because of the alcohol and forgot that Ryis was working himself up. She blurted out, "Paradis will be a nice holiday."
"Holiday?" he echoed her.
"Holiday?" he mocked her.
"Holiday!!" he almost choked on the word.
"It's not a holiday," she retreated. Things weren't going well. Usually she could get him past his bad moods; but she wasn't sure what to do with him when he was in a good mood. He was drurik on something other than ambrosa.
"Paradis is a return to real life," he crowed. "We're through with running all over space with these adolescent warriors lording it over us. All we have to do is make sure that they get fewer supplies and resources, as we get more and more!"
"Resources for what exactly?" she dared to ask, ducking just in case.
"I'm an architect," he exploded. "I was torn from my home world and set adrift in space all because of that stupid war. Now we've found a virgin planet. I'll split the trees and blow up the hills. I can build a whole world! We have an entire population without housing. Paradis is an architect's dream."
"But what will the Council decide?" she asked. "Apollo says that we should only stay here as long as required to get back under way."
Ryis laughed. "Do you have any idea how long that will take? We were near the end, my girl. We were running out of everything when those alien monsters found us again. We've been given a second chance against all the odds."
He jumped back on the bed and kissed her. "The people are going to love it down there," he said, coming up for air. "I'll make sure they love it. They'll never want to leave."
He lifted her up and sang out, "As far as I'm concerned, we've found Earth!"
Chapter Four
They came down to the planet, arriving in groups large and small. Some came alone. Viewed from the outside, the human migration seemed chaotic. But there was order.
The dismantling of the larger ships in orbit began. Heat shields and mini-thrusters were used to get these pieces to the surface of Paradis. In some cases, space vessels were combined instead of dismantled. One engine could carry the remnants of what had once been proud vessels before they were transformed into surrealistic constructions drifting in space.
The Colonials had originated on many different worlds, with diverse cultures, and, among other things, they differed in their traditions for the disposition of the dead. And many had died in all the yahren of their long exodus.
Not all had been given burial in space. Some had bequeathed their remains to the medical staff, a melancholy task headed up by Dr. Wilker. Some had been cremated and the ashes kept. Now these loved ones would be given burial in the earth of the new world, as the body of Cain had been laid to rest.
On the surface of Paradis, Starbuck watched with keen interest as a group of families tore ragged gashes into what had once had been their spaceborne living quarters, now destined to be redesigned as a house firmly rooted in the ground of a world that seemed to welcome them unconditionally. He was joined by an old friend.
"You haven't been trying to avoid me, have you?" asked Athena.
He loved the curl of her lip and raised eyebrow as she teased him. He felt as if he could watch her face forever, enjoying every contour of her profile and drinking in the luster of her eyes. But there were times when he could do without the words coming out of her perfectly shaped mouth. Those were times when he couldn't forget that she was Apollo's sister, not something he wanted to dwell upon.
Basically, Starbuck didn't like to argue with her. He always felt that he was losing no matter what was said.
"You know how busy we've all been," he said, instantly struck by how lame his words sounded.
She put her arm in his as gracefully as if they were about to attend an elegant banquet. "You don't ever have to lie to me," she said. There was no anger in her voice. "We're warriors, Starbuck. You never have to justify your priorities to me."
He nodded grimly. "I know what you mean," he said. "I've been watching the civilians work. I offered to help but they said they'd feel better if I stood guard duty."
"I've just come from seeing Sheba and Boomer who are overseeing the deconstruction of some of our military ships that have overwhelming damage."
"I guess we have an easier task," said Apollo. "Somehow I'd rather watch these old civilian crates bite the dust."
Athena took in her surroundings. They were in a clearing. She couldn't get over how tall the native trees were. There were so many of them. She breathed deeply and felt almost dizzy from the tangy air. And the birds were something to behold as well.
"There doesn't seem much need for a military presence down here," she said.
He pursed his lips in thought. "We can never be sure about that," he said. "After all the things we've lived through, we know that nothing can be taken for granted."
"Do you think it's possible we'll never see them again?" she asked.
"You mean the Cylons?" Starbuck said.
"Heads up!" shouted a young man as part of a bulkhead came loose and fell near a little girl at play. Another young man rushed to the child's side, making certain that she was all right. Then he took her to her mother and scolded the woman for not being more careful with her child.
Athena and Starbuck had been too far away to do anything but witness the near-tragedy and heave a sigh of relief.
"There are always dangers," he observed. "But people can handle most of them. The question is do they need us when Cylons aren't around."
"You know the answer to that," she said sternly. "We won't be on this planet forever. But even if we did stay, we can't take safety for granted. We've fought many dangers besides the Cylons."
Starbuck sat on the grass and crossed his legs, gesturing her to join him. If Starbuck liked to avoid arguments, Athena found it difficult to resist her dashing lover's manner. He was the first man who had ..ever been able to make her truly relax. Not even the wiles of a Baltar could disturb her special moments of peace when she and Starbuck connected.
"What do you think of the natives?" he asked her.
She shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I've only had brief contacts. I don't know what I think yet, other than they seem peaceful."
"Too peaceful," was his terse reply. Her wrinkled brow inspired him to go on. "Athena, they're too good to be true. I mean, if they only put up a little resistance! My warrior blood isn't boiling. It's room temperature."
Her slender fingers worked their way up his arm. "There are other ways to warm the blood," she said playfully.
But his mind wouldn't leave him alone. He held her head in his hands and asked the question: "Have you seen any native women?"
"What?" she asked, regaining herself.
"Have you seen any Gamon women?"
"No, but that doesn't mean they aren't here." She tried to make light of his observation. "Naturally, you would notice something like that."
"I'm serious."
"Maybe they keep their females hidden from strangers. That would mean they aren't as trusting as they seem. You should be pleased!"
He wasn't.
They resumed watching the Colonials. They didn't speak for a long time.
The people from space didn't beat their spears into farm implements, but they changed many other things. Sometimes they rushed to make a change before they had time to think about it.
When a Gamon communicated a suggestion to a Galactican, it was always with good intentions. After all, they knew their own world.
But Colonials were always suspicious of advice from the locals. They had been attacked and betrayed so many times that it was a perfectly reasonable reaction. But when they relaxed into understanding that the natives really meant to help them, another reaction set in.
Instead of fear, most Colonials suffered from a sense of superiority. It was not conscious. They didn't say that they w
ere better, or act unkindly toward their hosts. There was simply no recognition that they were guests on Paradis.
"We have weapons these poor beings would never understand," said a man who wanted to be a farmer.
"If they knew what we could do to them, they'd probably treat us as gods," answered his wife.
But a young engineer didn't agree. There were always exceptions. "They've seen our flying ships and that didn't make them fall down in a faint. I don't think blowing up a village would make them worship us."
The would-be farmer and his wife looked hurt that the engineer had imposed himself into their expression of raw emotion. They didn't want to think about what they had actually said. They were too busy to think. They were honest people with work to do and they turned their backs rather than engage in a debate.
More Colonials were like the couple than the engineer.
Usually when a Gamon spoke to a settler it was to offer advice about the region in which the native had spent his entire life. Smart Colonials overcame their sense of superiority long enough to listen. Only the smart ones bothered to familiarize themselves with the language or avail themselves of basic translation technologies.
It made a difference in the digging of a well to know where the water was.
But whether people wanted help or not, they kept coming and helping themselves. They swarmed over the continent where first contact had been made. The Gamon insisted that there was no other intelligent life on the planet. Wherever the Colonials went, they would find Gamon if there was a village. Every Gamon on the planet could communicate with every other by telepathy.
There could be no better news for exhausted space travelers. It was a diplomat's dream! The deal Apollo had made was for a whole world. Wherever the Colonials ventured on Paradis, the agreement went with them. There would be no requirement for endless negotiations.
So every door was open. The Colonials went through them all with a sense of joy that they could only express through work. And how they worked!
The scientists were the happiest of all. Some applied themselves to extracting minerals from the sea, which was easier for a space based technology than those who conducted mining operations in the ground. There was a lot more to do than only search for tylium. They had to pursue everything needed to create decent housing and medical facilities and an infrastructure that could one day help repair and even build new starships.
To the Gamon, there was no end of human beings coming down to Paradis. Due to the deconstruction of several civilian ships, there were far too many people to return to space even before the population began to increase—an anticipated and inevitable consequence of settlement.
These problems for the future were of no concern for the Colonials, hungering to touch earth right now and smell the air and stand on solid ground. All they knew was that they had survived Cylons and the Chitain and starvation. They had given up all hope of staying alive even in the miserable, cramped quarters of interstellar travel. Now it was if the Lords of Kobol had whispered incantations from the dark past and manufactured Paradis expressly for those who needed it most.
No sooner was a dilapidated ship dismantled than it began to transform into a temporary shelter. The new denizens of Paradis hammered and dug and planted and bolted and sweated and prayed. They made lights to take away the night and threw up walls to blot out the day.
Those who listened to the Gamon when advice was offered, built better and slept better. It was good to be welcome in a new world, even by a primitive people.
There was more communication on large-scale enterprises than on small homesteads. Ryis proved his skill as an organizer. He worked with the civilian authorities. He worked with the warriors. He took all the advice from the Native population that was offered.
Ryis issued statements to the effect that temporary shelters would not be needed for long. He intended to give everyone a permanent home as soon as possible. His great dream grew brighter every day—New Caprica City.
Apollo didn't know why he felt uncomfortable in the company of Ryis. The head architect never gave cause for complaint. If anything, the man tended to take the side of the warriors over the Colonials whenever there was hesitation in the deconstruction of terminally crippled ships. The architect had a sense of mission and a devotion to efficiency that reminded Apollo of Adama. Here was a man who knew how to get things done.
One day when looking over construction plans in Ryis's field office, Apollo said, "You'll make our stay on the planet comfortable, for as long as we're here."
"A long time," Ryis said, as much to himself as to the commander.
Apollo sighed. "Yes, it could be some time. We have so much to do before we can leave."
"There is also the matter of supplies," said Ryis, dropping the conversational tone.
"Yes, we both have needs for the same basic materiel and fuel."
Ryis felt an increased sense of confidence. "Which brings up the issue of priorities. The Council is not going to let our people be exposed to the elements or go without basic supplies, not when it is within our means to clothe, feed and house them all."
"No one disagrees about that," said Apollo, getting the drift. "The debate is over how much you are building for permanence versus how much we need for the rebuilding of the fleet."
Ryis took a deep breath. The battle lines had been drawn, and it might be a good time to change the subject. "How are the studies on the sun coming?" he asked.
"They still don't know how late it is in its final stage. Would you like to attend the next briefing?"
Ryis scratched his cheek. "I'd be interested, Commander, but I have too much work right now. I'm kept informed by my friends on the Council regarding all important developments."
"It's good to have friends," agreed Apollo with a smile.
Apollo had told Ryis once before that he didn't need to use the formal address of Commander. The architect was a civilian. But there was something about the man's tone of voice suggesting a critical attitude when he addressed Apollo. It wasn't sarcastic, not exactly. There was something smug about his manner—as if Ryis might be keeping a secret from anyone dumb enough to give a damn and be a warrior.
"You're not a student of astronomy?" asked Apollo. He felt an uncharacteristic desire to goad the man.
"No, I leave science to scientists."
Apollo flipped through a few pages of computations on the architect's desk. "Yet you work with mathematics the same as an astronomer. Someone interested in the design of a building might also be expected to be interested in the structure of the cosmos."
Ryis smiled, but he didn't look up from his blueprints. "Such as the architecture of a sun?"
Apollo felt as if a duel had begun between the two men, but neither was quite sure what to use as a weapon. He continued his line of thought.
"You know it takes a long time for a star to reach the red giant phase—probably something in the order often billion years."
Ryis chose his moment. He put down his pencil and looked Apollo in the eye.
"Yes, Commander, that is a long time. Just think how many buildings I could put up in all that time and all the wars you could have declared if we'd been around that long."
Apollo frowned, as Ryis had intended. "I'm not interested in declaring wars. But I could defend a lot of civilians in all that time."
"So what else do we know about our red giant?" asked the architect.
"Paradis orbits it at a distance of some 145 million miles—perhaps just far enough for life to have developed in the sun's final stage."
"Perhaps?"
"If life is original to this planet. It could just as easily have been settled after the sun expanded to the size of a red giant. Either way, I feel the Lords of Kobol smiled on us the day we found this world; but we can't take it for granted."
"Just a place for us to take a rest, is that what you mean?" asked Ryis, and this time he didn't hide the irritation in his voice. "Well, let me give you a number. In no ti
me at all we can have an annual population growth of seven percent. You do the math."
"You're talking about the population doubling in ten years."
"What do you expect? We are going to live on this planet, not just twiddle our thumbs. After all the dying and suffering in space, you can't expect human beings not to be natural when you put them back in a natural setting."
"The problem was the war. Then there were the deprivations."
"You think that was all?" Ryis demanded. "They're sick of living in outer space, Apollo."
The commander of the Galactica noticed what it took for Ryis to finally call him by his proper name. That seemed as good a place as any to end the encounter.
"Good luck on your designs," he said and left the room. Ryis watched the door close behind the leader before he let his breath out.
"Frack!" he exclaimed. He hadn't meant to reveal so much of his actual feelings. Apollo was good! The commander liked to know where people stood. Ryis would have to make sure that he was as careful in selecting foremen on the big construction projects as Apollo would be choosing future warriors.
As far as Ryis was concerned, the debate with Apollo was purely theoretical and likely to remain so for the foreseeable future. The most space happy warrior would have to admit that they were all going to be on this new planet for a good, long time.
Chapter Five
Not only did the Galacticans have meetings; the Gamon did as well. Yarto was summoned to a dream hut. Ever since he had made contact with the first human, he held a special position at the councils. In a way, he was responsible for all that followed.
The huts were part of Paradis, but only from the outside. Inside, they existed in the in-between places. The air inside was made of blue vapors that did not come from any fires but were always present. Breathing the vapors opened the spirit eye of all Gamon.
Yarto joined the circle that was already formed around the elder. They had been waiting. The line passed down a ritual herb and he ate it. The taste was like a shock of vinegar.
He spoke the traditional words. "I join the circle to honor you who are older than all machines. I honor you who are as old as the sea and the land. We do not stay here longer than we must. We only dream here in Paradis."
Battlestar Galactica-05-Paradis Page 4
