"What kind of place is this, exactly?" Dalton asked quite reasonably.
"We don't know," replied Troy. "That's why she shouldn't wander off."
"Look, Troy, she wasn't tired so she decided to look around," said Sheba "Rhaya said if she wasn't back by a certain time to send our Gamon guide after her, which we've done."
"If I'd been awake, I would have said something," Dalton said, chagrined. "We've had a slight breakdown of military protocol."
"The same as always," Troy half muttered to himself. Then he got himself back on track. "Well, as long as we're here let's do more exploring ourselves."
The plan was simple. Sheba, Troy, Trays and Dalton all went off from the same point in four different directions. The acoustics in the cavern were remarkable. Anyone finding something really interesting need only shout and the others would follow the sound of his or her voice. Otherwise, they would reconverge on the same spot within two centons.
Troy left a note for Rhaya in case she returned to base camp first.
The ruins extended in all directions as far as the eye could see. No one found a single shred of remains from the original inhabitants. No one found remnants of machines, although the dimensions of the city suggested the denizens must have enjoyed an advanced technology.
They marveled that such destruction could lie below such a radiantly beautiful planet. Dalton wondered if there might be greater mysteries lying even deeper.
They returned empty-handed except fort Sheba, who was carrying a broken statue. There was enough left of it to show a graceful line or two suggesting flight and motion. It cheered them to see it.
They were less cheered to see the Gamon guide return without Rhaya. The Gamon communicated with Sheba as she had done before.
"She says that her people want always to remember the horror, so they leave these ruins in peace."
"Don't you mean in pieces?" asked Trays, laughing alone at his think joke.
"I don't see how they could do anything about these ruins even if they wanted to," said Dalton.
"Does she know where Rhaya went?" asked Trays.
"It appears not," said Sheba. "She says that she's not familiar with these particular tunnels and that it's very easy to get lost down here. She says that her people have never been permitted to enter these areas for thousands of yahren."
"So our girl has gotten herself lost," said Troy. "Great, just great! We've got to find her. Meanwhile let's ask our guide if she can get us back to our people on the other side of the planet."
Sheba nodded. "Give us a moment," she said.
The guide shut her eyes for a moment and then smiled, informing them that everything was taken care of. This did not exactly satisfy Trays.
"What does that mean?" he asked with great exasperation.
Sheba had an answer. "She has communicated with Gamon on the other side of the planet and they have informed our people of our location."
"Do you believe that?" asked Dalton.
"I want to."
"How is it possible?" Dalton persisted in doubt.
Sheba amplified her position. "The Gamon are all in direct communication with each other, so there is never a problem getting anything they need, or knowing anything that is going on anywhere on the planet."
"Astounding," said Troy.
Sheba continued. "All the various tribes of Gamon are linked mentally, so there is never a problem with language—which was a major issue in earlier times."
"Wait a minute," said Troy. "I have a problem with this idea. What about the Gamon who chased us in the tunnels? They intended to do us grievous bodily harm. Did someone forget to give them the message that we aren't enemies?"
"There have been unfortunate developments since we've been away," said Dalton.
No one liked thinking about that, but Sheba replied to the challenge from Troy. "There are a few offshoots of the Gamon culture that are still fairly primitive. With our usual excellent luck, we managed to find a pocket of them."
"Go team," said Trays.
Dalton put things into perspective. "On the other hand, we wouldn't have discovered evidence of this lost civilization if we hadn't come here."
"These primitive Gamon are not supposed to have weapons," Sheba continued. "But as remains true of all the natives, their most dangerous weapon lies in mental powers. We are only now coming to realize how dangerous that can be."
"Our Vipers," said Troy. "I can hardly believe it. Our Vipers!"
Sheba took a deep breath. "It's true. They mentally caused our ships to lose power because they had never seen technology such as ours."
With a new sense of respect tinged with wonder, the Colonials regarded the old Gamon who seemed so much like an elderly woman. What sort of powers could she bring to bear against them? Instead, she chose to help them.
"She didn't want to take any chances," Sheba continued. "She didn't want the primitive Gamon to injure you or imprison you in order to study you."
"Sounds like they might as easily be described as mentally ill Gamon as savages," said Troy. "Whatever the problem is with them, we owe a lot to our benefactor."
They all agreed, appreciating yet again the gift of safety, however temporary, that the native had provided at risk to herself. But safety was becoming the greatest illusion of Paradis.
As if underlining the point, they began hearing screams from a direction they had not explored when they spread out. The acoustics in the giant cavern were indeed remarkable.
"Let's go!" shouted Troy and they started heading off in the direction of Rhaya's voice.
"Wait," said Sheba. "Wouldn't it be better if only Troy and the Gamon went while the rest of us secure the base camp?"
"No," said almost everyone in unison.
"I didn't think so," replied Sheba with a grin, "but you can't blame a girl for trying to follow standard operating procedure once in a while."
"You're forgiven," said Troy, shouldering his weapon.
They ran at a steady clip. "I hope she screams some more," said Troy. "It will help us locate her!"
"I hope she can," Trays thought out loud. No telepathy was needed for all of them to read each other's minds. They were worried sick.
Rhaya couldn't be on this level of the cavern or they would have found her when they spread out. So they started checking out side-tunnel openings, praying for the sound of her voice again. She didn't disappoint them.
"Here!" said Sheba as Rhaya let loose with another yelp. The cave was dark and they hated to leave the light behind, but when they reached the end they were treated to another display of underground luminescence.
It was good to have light; good to see that Rhaya was not in immediate danger but had caught her leg between some rocks. It was also good to see that despite her accident-prone behavior of late she had made the most important discovery yet.
Looming over their heads were the remains of a giant space ship. It must have crashlanded long ago, but its hull was still largely intact.
"Amazing," breathed Dalton even as she helped extract Rhaya's leg from the stalagmites that held it. "How did you ever find this?"
"My curiosity knows no bounds," she said, wincing as her leg was freed.
"Can you walk?" Dalton asked as the younger woman leaned on her.
"Yes," she said. "You're not keeping me out of my ship."
"Yours?" asked Trays with a grin.
"Finders keepers," she answered with a wink.
Troy took the lead. Gaping holes in the hull let in the cavern's light but a remnant of artificial illumination remained in the vast white corridors of this obvious product of a technology in advance of the fleet's battlestars.
The doors were all open, a propitious development as none of them was sure if they could have pried them open without power. Troy went first into the largest compartment of the ship and then reappeared at the door, his face a mask of sadness.
"What's wrong?" asked Dalton.
"Thousands of them," he gasped and pointed
the way. He couldn't say it. They had to see for themselves.
Stretched out along wall upon wall were thousands of preservation pods with human remains in them. The emptiness of the deserted city was already a pleasant memory.
There were just too many bodies. Even a hardened warrior could be set back on his heels stumbling onto a sight like this.
"I think that I understand," Troy finally said.
"What is this?" asked Rhaya, starting to come out her trance as well.
"By the Lords of Kobol, this ship appears to be one of the city-sized space arks that the Thirteenth Tribe was rumored to have used for transport of our people so very long ago. I didn't really believe that it existed…until now."
"I know what you mean," whispered Dalton.
"I mean, we've been told about this since we were kids," said Troy. "We all heard the stories in school. As we grew up we started reading more cynical historians, right? They assured us that the Thirteenth Tribe was a legend at best but almost certainly a myth."
"Welcome to reality," said Dalton, stretching out her hand and touching the mythical past made incredibly real.
"Now more than ever, we have to get back to the surface," announced Troy. "We have to be found and picked up. It's our duty to report this."
"Do you think the Gamon truly possess telepathic powers that can reach anywhere?" asked Dalton.
"I do," answered Sheba.
Dalton grinned. "Then we could use them as a means of communication anywhere on the planet. Maybe the guide could get a message to Yarto. I assume that he still has good feelings for Apollo and that some of it might rub off on his friends."
Everyone agreed that it was worth a try. It turned out to be the best idea any of them had had in along time.
The journey back to the surface took a while and the guide was encouraged to periodically send out messages. Once they reached the surface, it wasn't all that long before Starbuck and Boomer swooped down in their fiery chariots to reclaim their fellow warriors. Dalton had never been happier to see her father.
At times like this, I can see why Starbuck is so appealing to the ladies, she thought. She was proud of her father at that moment. But mostly Dalton had mixed feelings about the man who had abandoned her as a child, only to reenter her life when she was an adult, on her own, and no longer in need of him. Or so she had thought. Now that he was part of her life she understood where much of her own inner strength came from. He could be a scoundrel, but also a hero. Her father was a hard man to hate.
And it was a pure thrill to see Vipers not konk out this time! Maybe that was something else for which they owed thanks to the old native woman. The Gamon had selected the coordinates for their rescue.
"We've got to solve the mystery of this planet's magnetic disturbances," said Troy. "I think our scientists have been falling down on the job."
When Starbuck asked what had happened, he was initially greeted with a deafening silence. So much had transpired that it was difficult to know where to begin.
Sheba gave it her best shot. "Well, we decided to take a little detour and check out the planet up close."
Starbuck's response was in character. "Well, maybe over some ambrosa tonight you'll tell me about it."
Much to Dalton's delight, Sheba let him have it right between the eyes. "You won't get anything out of me, Starbuck. I'm not one of your minions. I'm too smart for you."
Boomer cracked up at that. They were all enjoying the relief of being reunited and out of danger. Starbuck and Sheba put on a show for everyone.
Then it was time to get serious. How do you tell a friend that the fairy tales he outgrew when he was a teenager have suddenly turned out to be true?
Sheba shifted the conversation with expertise. "Starbuck, Boomer, we found something deep inside the planet that's going to surprise a lot of people."
"A diamond mine?" Starbuck asked with his boyish grin.
Troy got into the act. "You'll never believe this, but I think we've located a Thirteenth Tribe space ark that must have crashed on this planet thousands of yahren ago."
Boomer whistled. "Then someone had better stay behind. I volunteer, if we can get the Gamon to stay with me and act as guide."
Starbuck gave the thumbs up and the others began boarding the Vipers. The Gamon woman waved goodbye, a mannerism she'd picked up from her Colonial friends.
Sheba thanked the native. "We appreciate your help more than we can express. We apologize for our rudeness that we never asked your name."
"Cali," the old woman spoke to her mind. Then she turned and began walking with Boomer back to the entrance to the vast cave complex.
"What a unique and interesting lady," said Sheba. "These Gamon are very mysterious. I have a funny feeling that there's a lot they're not telling us."
"Why should they?" asked Troy. "I wouldn't trust us, would you?"
As fate would have it, Dalton flew back with her father. And as usual, she struggled with her desire to idolize him and the deep wound she carried because of him. No matter how playful they were on the surface, the emotions ran deep.
"Are you okay? What happened to you?" Starbuck asked.
Dalton said, "Troy can be a little rough sometimes, you know, when we make love. Of course, I always leave him out of breath, but I know I like it."
"Uh-huh," was all that a suddenly uncomfortable Starbuck could muster.
Then he laughed and ignited his thrusters, full power, and took off so fast that Dalton was the one who was out of breath. As if that wasn't enough, he lit up one of his stinky cigars.
"Dad!"
Starbuck said, "You got a problem?"
"Oh, not at all," said Dalton, recovering. "I had more than enough air to breathe while we were burrowing underground like moles. I'm giving up air for a while because I think you can get spoiled by too much of a good thing."
"So…do you want one, or not?"
Dalton laughed. "You know what I say, if you can't beat um, join um! You got a spare?"
Before he could come up with a clever retort, Dalton grabbed his last cigar and lit up. "When it comes to these stink-ropes it's better to smoke your own than breathe someone else's," she said.
"A chip off the old block."
"More than you'll ever know."
Starbuck changed the mood. "What really happened to you down there?"
"Do you want me to lie?"
"Lie? Where did you get all your bad habits, young lady?"
"Why, everything I needed to know I learned from you, Father!"
Starbuck decided to get serious about the flying. She could tell from the way he clenched the cigar between his teeth. There was also his body language and the way he grabbed the navi-hilt. But most of all, it's what he broadcast to the other pilots.
"Come on guys, let's get our butts out of here!"
Dalton smiled and puffed contentedly.
On the way back from the rescue mission, Starbuck and Boomer were notified of another major incident with the Gamon at New Caprica City. After dropping off Dalton and Rhaya at the med labs, they wasted no time hurrying back down to the planet.
The trouble didn't wait for their arrival.
The foreman of the construction crew didn't want to take point on a military exercise; he just wanted to do his job. He'd managed to avoid getting involved on the previous incident that had led the slaughter of natives. He's counted himself fortunate that day he'd missed out on the bloodshed. Now he was afraid that his luck had run out.
The Gamon slowly moved down the road, kicking up small clouds of dust. The unnerving thing about watching their approach was that they were so deliberate and almost relaxed about what they were doing.
Firing a warning shot didn't do a damned thing. They were unfazed. All the foreman knew was that he hadn't given an order for anyone to fire anything. The situation was already getting out of hand and it had hardly begun yet.
"What are we going to do?" asked the man closest to him.
"Why ask me?"
the foreman answered in disgust. "I didn't give the order for any weapons to be used."
"When will you?" the man wanted to know, his hand shaking so badly that the foreman did not feel comfortable about the worker holding a weapon at all.
"I don't think I'm going to have to do anything," the foreman said. "These men are all fired up. I can't stop them, no matter what I say or do. But give me that microphone. Maybe the loudspeaker system we rigged up can save some lives. It's worth a try!"
As they had in the past, the Gamon threatened no violence but they intended for their form of gentle force to prevent any further work on the city. The men with the weapons didn't seem to care that those approaching were unarmed. The attitude of the natives was a kind of weapon in itself.
Workers didn't want to be told that what they did was immoral. They broke their backs and sweated over thankless tasks for pay, but the very discomfort lent the enterprise a kind of dignity. The most hateful thing about the Gamon protest was that it robbed the workers of their pride.
They hated the natives for that. Some of them had already killed and now more of them were ready to kill again.
Through the loudspeaker boomed the voice of the foreman. He wasn't sure that any of his words were understood but if the rumors he kept hearing about the Gamon were true, then they would pick up on the underlying meaning of his words. The issues were plain to both sides.
"Halt!" he shouted into the microphone and his voice thundered over the crowd on both sides of the great divide. "You are not supposed to be here. This is your last warning. If you don't turn back, we will open fire."
A nervous marksman fired and one of the natives fell. A few other guns barked and the same result ensued. But the mass of Gamon kept coming.
"Damn it! Stop that!" screamed the foreman.
His problems were only beginning. Every Colonial knew the sound of Viper engines. Suddenly, the sky was no longer friendly. For one crazed moment, the foreman imagined that the Vipers might start strafing everyone, Gamon and workers alike. But instead the craft landed—to his great relief—and the pilots approached on foot.
The foreman wondered what he had ever done to deserve this. Then he cursed himself for taking the job from Ryis in the first place. The Viper pilots were creme of the crop and that just put more pressure on the foreman.
Battlestar Galactica-05-Paradis Page 17
