Unity

by Steven Harper

  “Roger that,” Kara said. “I’m in the Zone.”

  “Chaldena talush saemal,” came Hot Dog’s voice. “Vili ve.”

  “Hot Dog, are you all right?” Lee said. “I didn’t copy that.”

  There was a pause. “I t-tried to s-say it was pretty impressive,” Hot Dog replied. “I’ve never b-b-been in the Zone.”

  “That’s not what it sounded like you said,” Kara put in. “It sounded like nonsense.”

  Hot Dog didn’t answer. The Cylons hovered, still out of range, still waiting. Kara felt the moment, the Zone, slipping away.

  “Let’s go in and get ’em,” she barked.

  “I’m CAG, Lieutenant. CAG stands for ‘guy who’s in charge,’” Lee reminded her. Brief pause. “Okay, blow them out of the sky!”

  Kara vaulted forward, then yanked her Viper upward to avoid a spray of fire from one of the raiders. She brought her nose around, snapped the cross-hairs into position, and fired. The Cylon quivered under the hail of bullets, then soundlessly blew up in a satisfying ball of flame.

  “That’s three!” Kara whooped.

  “Kildra nash,” Hot Dog shouted. His Viper overtook hers and rushed straight at the hole Kara had made in the line of raiders. Except his ship jumped and wobbled like a baby bird just learning to fly. It jerked around, then abruptly skewed sideways, dropping out of Kara’s line of sight.

  “What the hell are you doing, Hot Dog?” Lee demanded. He fired at a raider, and it exploded. Only eight left, plus the heavy raider. Kat and Powerball were engaged in a dogfight with a pair of Cylons. Mack failed to dodge a third raider quickly enough, and his Viper shuddered under his opponent’s fire.

  “I’m losing altitude control!” he shouted. “Frak! I can barely keep myself upright.”

  Kara punched her own thrusters and zipped into the space between Mack and the Cylon. She spun about and fired. The Cylon jerked as she raked one of its wings. It climbed, trying to get around her.

  “Get back to the Galactica, Mack!” Kara ordered. “Go!”

  “Nultani nultanil reb!” Hot Dog said. “Fleg anzara bekki!”

  Kara glanced at her screen. She had forgotten about him. Hot Dog’s Viper bobbled about her readout like a drunken spider. A raider zeroed in on him, diving like a falcon reaching for a rabbit. Her heart lurched. Shadow’s death loomed in her mind, but Kara was too far away to do anything about it.

  “I got him,” Yukie said, and gunned the Cylon down.

  “Hot Dog, respond!” Lee ordered. “Brendan!”

  But Hot Dog only spouted more gibberish. His Viper continued to fly in erratic lines. Beyond him, Kat and Powerball destroyed their Cylons, leaving only five and the heavy raider. They hovered silently in place, almost as if they were watching.

  “Got it!” Powerball howled. “One more dead mother-frakkin’ Cylon.”

  “Yilt denow!” Kat said. “We rock!”

  Kara’s blood ran cold. “Repeat that, Kat. You sounded like Hot Dog for a minute there.”

  “Bedlom pilt kareem Hot Dog,” she said. And her Viper began to wobble, too.

  “Shit!” Lee said. “What the hell is going on? Kat, Hot Dog, and Mack—haul it back to Galactica. Move it! The rest of you, wipe out the rest of the Cylons.”

  Kara flipped her Viper around to orient on the remaining enemy ships. But even as she punched up her thrusters, six flashes of white light blasted across her retina. The Cylons vanished into hyperspace.

  “They’re gone?” Kara said. “Just like that?”

  “Maybe they figured we were winning,” Lee said.

  “Viper squadron, this is Galactica Actual,” Commander Adama’s voice broke in. “Return to Galactica immediately. And I want all of you in sickbay.”

  Kat and Hot Dog landed unevenly. Both of them needed steady encouragement and orders to stay focused, and both of them spoke a steady stream of nonsense words laced with occasional snatches of normal speech. Kara landed her own Viper, the clamps engaged, and the elevator went through its usual descent. The moment her canopy opened, Kara yanked off her vac suit helmet and vaulted clear of the little ship. A small swarm of people had surrounded Kat’s and Hot Dog’s Vipers, and both pilots were being helped down to the deck. Kara caught a glimpse of Hot Dog’s pale face. His mouth was moving, but she couldn’t catch the words. Abruptly he went into convulsions. A stream of unintelligible words rolled from his mouth. Kara’s stomach turned. Illness always creeped her out. It was worse when someone she liked was sick, and she liked Hot Dog. When a bunch of Galactica’s pilots had died in an accident, Adama had ordered Kara, an experienced flight instructor, to shove him, Kat, and several others through intensive flight training. She knew him fairly well as a result, and she fervently hoped both he and Kat would be all right.

  Hot Dog continued to babble. His eyes were wide open and alert, his expression both frightened and mystified. It looked as if he knew what was going on, but was powerless to stop it. Looking at him sent a chill down Kara’s spine.

  “Medic!” someone shouted. “Get him a stretcher!”

  “He’s speaking in tongues,” said someone else. “The Lords of Kobol speak through him!”

  That hushed the onlookers. Kara blinked. She knew of the concept, had heard that some Oracles went into strange fits that foretold the future or channeled the Lords of Kobol themselves. Was that the source of her unease? Were the Lords of Kobol present? Kara fought an urge to look over her shoulder.

  Over by her own Viper, Kat kept her feet with the assistance of a repair technician. “Green eyes like a cat mouse in a trapdoor in a barn horse riding into the sunset,” she said. “F-frak! I’m … I can’t keep my key in the lock of my brainwave pattern of a dress my mother sewed for her tenth anniversary.”

  A medic appeared with a stretcher, and several people were helping Hot Dog onto it. Lee was among them. Hot Dog continued to thrash and babble. Kara dashed over to Kat and put a hand on her forehead. It was hot and moist. Her dark skin had a ghoulish cast to it.

  “She has a fever,” the repair tech said. “I can feel it through her clothes.”

  “Kat, can you hear me?” Kara demanded, looking into her eyes. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

  “I … I have no idea what’s up in the sky with pie and apples and pears of two or three green leaves. Pel dar mayfel nam! Frak!” She shook her head. “I’m trying …”

  “Try not to talk.” Kara ducked under one of Kat’s arms while the technician ducked under the other. They lifted Kat partly off her feet. “Let’s get you to sickbay along with Hot Dog.”

  “Bun in a refrigerator,” Kat agreed.

  “I don’t know what to make of it,” Cottle sighed. He ground his cigarette out in the ashtray on Adama’s desk. “I’ve got three people babbling and convulsing in my sickbay with no idea what’s behind it. Meds help, though they just treat the symptoms, not the cause. I’m stumped. I’m waiting for some more test results to filter through, but so far I’m finding no viruses, no bacteria, not even a protozoan. But some weird agent is attacking their brains.”

  “What exactly does this agent do?” Adama asked. He was sitting rigidly behind his desk, forcing himself not to drum his fingers or tap his feet. This was not good news, and he was so frakking tired of bad news. Two pilots incapacitated, possibly dying. Chief Tyrol nearly mowed down. Tiredness washed over him. Another three or four cats had been added to the pile he was juggling.

  “Just reading from their symptoms,” Cottle said, “I think it attacks the language and motor control centers first. This, by the way, means the little sucker can cross the blood-brain barrier, which isn’t easy. It’s why brain diseases are so rare.”

  “You’re sure it’s a disease,” Adama said. “Not something else.”

  A knock came at the door and Gaeta poked his head into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Commander, but you wanted to be informed the moment the Monarch’s crew had cleared Planet Goop.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. Are the
Jump coordinates still good?”

  “I’ve been keeping them updated,” Gaeta replied.

  “Then let’s get the hell out of this sector,” Adama said. “Order all ships to Jump immediately.”

  “Sir.” Gaeta vanished.

  “I’m not ruling anything out at this point,” Cottle said, answering Adama’s earlier statement. “Radiation exposure, toxin, something in the food. I don’t know. The problem is, I can’t find a common vector. Hyksos works on the Monarch. Kat and Hot Dog, as everyone likes to call them, are Viper pilots. They don’t all three know each other, they don’t eat the same food or drink the same water. All three have been in space recently, but that was after they were showing symptoms. My gut says it might be something from Planet Goop simply because it’s the only new thing that’s been introduced to all of us, but I have no evidence to support that. Hell, I don’t even know if this thing is contagious or not.”

  Adama felt the sudden strange shift that indicated the ship’s Jump drive was powering up. It was as if his clothes were turning inside-out with him still inside them. A bit of nausea sloshed through his stomach, he felt a slight wrench, and it was over. Jump successful. Cottle didn’t seem particularly bothered, and Adama kept his own face impassive. He straightened his glasses and continued the conversation. “What are you doing to learn more?”

  “All kinds of tests on every body fluid and tissue I can reach. Dr. Baltar is doing the same, though His Majesty hasn’t deigned to report anything to me, so I don’t know if he’s found anything.”

  “I’m sure he’d say something to one of us if he did,” Adama said.

  “Sure,” Cottle drawled. “It’s not like he’s weird or strange or anything. Always well-behaved in public, that’s our vice president.”

  “Kara! Kara Thrace!”

  Kara spun and came face-to-face with Peter Attis. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before she could react. Two passing repair techs turned to stare.

  “Uh, hi,” she said, caught off guard. She felt strangely breathless and struggled to hide it.

  “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten who I am,” he said with a grin. Then the grin faded. “You haven’t, have you?”

  She looked at him, and all her earlier cautions came flooding back. She didn’t need to get involved with anyone right now. She didn’t need to be tied down or entangled.

  She didn’t need to.

  But that was it, wasn’t it? She didn’t need to. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t. Kara tossed her doubts aside with a laugh, then gave Peter a brief hug and stole an ass-grab in the process. His butt cheek was firm with muscle, and she liked the way it filled her hand. Peter stiffened, then laughed himself. It was a liquid, masculine sound that flowed over her with unexpected warmth. She drew him into a side corridor so they wouldn’t block traffic or garner more stares, then gave him a kiss of her own, a longer one this time. Her body pressed against his, and she could feel his response.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” she said. “But I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me again. Rock star always moving on and all that.”

  “Give up my number one groupie? You have to be kidding! Besides, what would the tabloids say?”

  She laughed again. It was fun to laugh with Peter. She kissed him again, thanking the gods that she was officially off duty and able to steal a few kisses without violating regs.

  “Are you coming to the concert tonight?” he asked. “I’ve got tickets for you and for … for Lee, if you want to bring him.”

  And suddenly she was reluctant. “I don’t know,” she said. “I have the feeling … we just came away from a Cylon raid, and it was a little weird. They Jumped away just when things were getting interesting.”

  “Well that’s good news, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah …” Kara reached up and smoothed a bit of his hair. “But it doesn’t feel right.” She thought about telling Peter about Kat and Hot Dog, then changed her mind. No one had said to keep the problem quiet, but she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to spread the information around the Fleet. “My instincts tell me to stay on alert status, even though I’m off duty until tomorrow.”

  Peter took her hand. “Look, if you won’t come to the concert, then have dinner with me. On Cloud 9. They feed me pretty well over there. What do you say?”

  Okay, that’d be great. “Not sure,” she said.

  “Look, you work hard defending us. You deserve some ‘me’ time. And it’s only dinner. Not like it’s an entire evening. What do you say?”

  She wavered. Fresh after a Jump was usually the safest time. It would take the Cylons some time to track them down again. If she wanted to grab some R&R, this was the best opportunity.

  “All right,” she said. “Where should we meet?”

  “Can you find the Gilded Lily?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened a little. “Sure! But they’re pretty expensive. Especially now.”

  “The owner’s a fan,” Peter said, a smile in his eyes. “Meet me there at five, okay? I have to be backstage by seven.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  He gave her another kiss, then turned and strode away. Kara watched him go, noticing the little bounce in his step.

  Gaius Baltar frowned into the microscope eyepiece. A crowd of red blood cells and occasional white blood cells drifted slowly through a sea of plasma. He refocused, bringing the image closer. A donut-shaped red blood cell, or platelet, ballooned to the size of a basketball. Using precise nudges of the controls, he edged the slide a few microns to the left. The platelet slid sideways a little, and Gaius brought the focus in even tighter. Some of the larger individual molecules were starting to take shape now, emerging in fractal patterns on the platelet’s cell membrane and in the plasma itself. A little closer, and …

  There it was. A clump of molecules that had caught his eye earlier. He moved in closer yet so he could examine a single one. It looked like three twisted ribbons attached to each other by twisted threads at the ends. It wasn’t a virus or bacillus, that much was obvious. It was a single molecule, protein if he was any judge. And he was.

  “What did you find, Gaius?” Number Six asked breathily in his ear.

  “I think,” he said without taking his eyes off the slide, “it’s a prion.”

  “A prion?” she repeated. Her tone sounded like she knew exactly what one was, but Baltar couldn’t help explaining, showing off what he had discovered.

  “Prions are protein fragments that aren’t viruses but can act like them. They often attack the nervous system, especially the brain.”

  “Really.” Six sounded bored. Baltar ignored this.

  “Yes. It won’t show up on a normal test for a virus or bacillus because it isn’t one. When they attach to nerve cells, they can interfere with neurological activity, even destroy brain tissue.” He stared at the tiny bit of protein. “But this one … this one I’ve never seen before.”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “Hyksos, the harvest worker.”

  “No, Gaius—I mean originally.”

  “Oh.” He shrugged. “No idea.”

  A pair of soft hands caressed his back. “Amazing how something so small, so insignificant, can be so powerful.” Gaius felt Six’s touch tingle through him, setting off little waves of desire. He forced himself to continue staring at the molecule. It drifted away from the red blood cell and rotated slowly in the plasma. Gaius pressed a switch, and a micro-camera captured an image. Six ran a finger down the side of his neck, and he shuddered.

  “Pay attention to me, Gaius,” she whispered, her breath hot in his ear. “Don’t ignore me.”

  He turned on his stool to look at her, and his jaw dropped. Six wore a short skirt, high-heeled sandals, and nothing else. Her bare breasts were tantalizingly within reach. Her presence contrasted sharply with the machinelike utilitarian lab around her.

  “You … you …” He cleared his throat and tried again. “You’ve never struck me as the needy female type.�
�

  She leaned into him, her warm softness pressing against his body. “I need some ’me’ time. And so do you.”

  There seemed to be a joke in what she said, but Gaius didn’t get it, and Six didn’t explain.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, though his face felt flushed. “I need to track down exactly what this thing is.”

  Rather than respond, Six drew him off the stool and pulled him toward one of the work tables. Gaius didn’t resist. She boosted herself up on it and leaned back slightly, her lips parted, her platinum hair falling backward.

  “Kiss me, Gaius,” she said. “Now.”

  He leaned toward her. She put up a hand.

  “Not there,” she said. “This is for me.”

  When the door opened a few minutes later, Dr. Cottle entered the lab and found Gaius Baltar kneeling in a strange position behind one of the tables. Both his arms rested on the tabletop as if his hands were cupping something. Cottle blinked and shifted his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other.

  “Did you lose something, Dr. Baltar?” Cottle said.

  Gaius shot upright, his face bright red, his brain moving fast. “No … no. I was just … doing some stretching exercises.” He demonstrated some deep knee bends and winced a little. “See? I get cramped up, sitting on these stools all day long.”

  “I hear you,” Cottle said. He was carrying an uneven file folder filled with papers, and he set it on the table. “Though deep knee bends won’t stretch you much. I just dropped by to tell you Hyksos has slipped into a full-blown coma and those Viper pilots stay quiet only when they’re pumped full of ativan. I’ve got a whole ream of test results here, but nothing comes up. I came down to see if you’ve got anything.”

  “I do, actually,” Gaius said, gesturing at the microscope. He was flushed and slightly sweaty. Dammit, why did people insist on walking in on him during private moments? “Take a look.”

  Cottle did. “What am I looking at?”

  “I think it’s a prion,” Baltar told him. His groin ached.

  Cottle whistled. “Now why the hell didn’t I think to look for that? Dammit. And you’re right. Come on.” He straightened and headed for the door.