[Battlestar Galactica Reimagined 04] - Unity

by Steven Harper - (ebook by Undead)

  “Back to sickbay, where else? I want to scan a few brains.”

  Cottle made his way down the corridors of Galactica, not seeming to hurry, but somehow forcing Gaius into a trot to keep up. Down in sickbay, he summoned two med techs to roll Hyksos’ bulky, quiescent body down to the corner where they kept the image scanner. Hyksos’ face was pale and still, and Gaius was barely able to make out his breathing. Something suddenly occurred to Gaius, something that made his heart lurch, and he sidled up to Cottle as the techs slid Hyksos onto the scanner shelf.

  “Some prions can be transmitted from host to host,” he murmured. “What do you think of the possibility that these could…”

  “It’s already crossed my mind,” Cottle murmured back. He puffed smoke from the side of his mouth. “I don’t think we need to bring that up with the general public just yet, though.”

  “Of course, of course. I’m sure everything will be fine, in any case.” But Gaius’ entire body had gone cold. Prions generally weren’t easily contagious. In most cases, one had to bring the prion directly into the body, usually by eating it in contaminated food or by direct introduction into the blood. Easily transmittable prions were pure theory, known only as projections on paper. Or were they?

  “Look at this, Doctor,” Cottle said, pointing at the scanner readout screens. They showed images of Hyksos’ brain activity. The entire system was darkened—the man was in a coma—but Cottle zoomed in on the left hemisphere. “There. The language centers show severely depressed activity. And over here—motor function. The damage is more extensive than in the other areas, which means they were probably attacked first. No wonder the patients convulse and spout gibberish.”

  Gaius slowly and deliberately pulled on a pair of sterile gloves. Without a word, he pulled a cotton swab from a drawer, pried Hyksos’ mouth open, and collected a sample of saliva. Then he slid another swab into Hyksos’ nose. It was difficult—the shelf of the scanner was in the way—but he managed.

  “What are you doing?” Cottle demanded.

  “I should think it was obvious,” Gaius said, and he all but ran back to his lab. When Cottle arrived some time later, he found Gaius hunched over his microscope, not kneeling behind the table.

  “What’s going on?” Cottle said. “What are you thinking?”

  Gaius pushed himself back from the microscope. “See for yourself. I’ve already run a few tests. This prion is present in Hyksos’ saliva and his mucus. I’ve exposed this one to low temperatures, high temperatures, UV radiation, and a dry atmosphere. It holds cohesion.”

  “Oh, shit.” Cottle leaned against a table. “You think it’s contagious.”

  “Just like the flu,” Gaius agreed. His voice was flat. He felt oddly detached, strangely calm. The panic, he was sure, would come later. He had just spent a goodly amount of time in sickbay with three people who carried what appeared to be a deadly contagious disease. Number Six was nowhere to be found, and he was dying to talk to her about this. She was the one who had suggested he visit sickbay in the first place, which meant she had to know something.

  “Where the hell did it come from?” Cottle muttered. “Frak! What’s new on the ship?”

  “The algae, perhaps,” Gaius said. “Though that doesn’t seem likely. None of the other people on the Monarch have come down with this condition, and the other two patients are Viper pilots.”

  “Brain diseases are funny that way,” Cottle pointed out. “One person contracts it and falls into a coma almost immediately, another contracts it, and lives for months without showing a single symptom. No one knows why the hell it happens that way, but it does. One of the Viper pilots could be Patient Zero, or it could be someone who hasn’t shown symptoms at all.”

  “We can’t find Patient Zero until we know what vectors the other patients have in common,” Gaius said. “Of course, knowing the first person to contract it would help us figure out where this came from.”

  “So what do all three patients have in common?” Cottle asked, clearly thinking out loud. “Something that other people don’t.”

  “Actually, we could all have come down with it months ago, long before the Cylon attack on the Colonies,” Gaius pointed out. “Perhaps these patients are just the first to show symptoms.”

  Cottle eyed him. “Do you honestly think that’s likely?”

  “No,” Gaius admitted. “But we can’t afford to restrict our thinking at this stage.”

  “We still need to establish some sort of parameter,” Cottle argued. “Two Viper pilots and a worker on a mining ship. Do they all three know each other?”

  “Not that I know of, and unfortunately we can’t ask them.” He looked into the microscope again. The ribbony prion seemed to stare obstinately back up at him. “I doubt it’s the algae. We’ll have to check samples, of course, but as far as I know, prions that can infect humans simply don’t hang about in primitive plant life. Something else must have brought this thing aboard.”

  Cottle took a nervous drag on his cigarette. “So what else is new to the Fleet?”

  Peter Attis stood in the middle of a group of people, raised his glass in a mock toast, and said something Kara couldn’t hear. Everyone around him laughed. Kara eyed him warily. She had been expecting a date sort of thing—two people, one table, candle, lots of innuendo. Instead, when she had arrived at the Gilded Lily, she had been ushered into a private banquet hall. There, Kara had found Peter holding forth to a roomful of maybe two dozen people, none of whom she recognized. A group of about ten had clustered around Peter, while the others stood around in uncertain small groups. A pre-concert party, perhaps? Whatever the case, it had caught her off guard. She felt annoyed that Peter hadn’t warned her. Hell, she had even borrowed a dress from Dualla for the occasion. An angry look crossed her face and she elbowed her way toward him through the crowd.

  “…can’t believe you’re actually here,” a young woman gushed. “We’ve been waiting for so long.”

  “Waiting for what?” Kara asked a little too brightly.

  “Kara!” Peter swept her into an unexpected kiss. Kara let him, but only just. The onlookers waited politely. “Glad you made it!”

  “Who are your friends?” Kara said. “When you asked me if I wanted to have dinner, I didn’t think you meant an entire banquet.”

  The gushing lady, a small, dark-haired woman, grabbed Kara’s hand and shook it. “You’re so lucky,” she said. “Peter chose you for his consort.”

  “Consort?” Kara echoed. “Listen, lady—”

  “That’s not quite what she meant,” Peter said quickly. “Louann, please. Kara’s a good friend.”

  “But someone like you deserves a consort,” Louann said, clearly shocked. “I can find one for you, if you like.”

  Peter was actually blushing. “Not today, thanks.”

  “Peter,” Kara said in her “someone’s going to get hurt soon and it won’t be me” voice, “what the frak is going on?”

  “Blasphemy!” said a man in shock. “That sort of language in front of the Chosen.”

  Before Kara could respond to this, Peter spoke up. “If by ‘chosen’ you mean ‘chosen by the Cylons’, you can keep it.”

  “But they were the ones who taught you the Unity Path,” Louann said.

  “Yes,” Peter acknowledged with a duck of his head. “But it wasn’t fun or pleasant.”

  “‘And the Unifier shall walk among the Enemy, and He shall return both changed and unharmed,’” the young man intoned.

  “What’s the frakking Unifier?” Kara demanded.

  “They’re saying,” Peter spoke up before the man could bring up blasphemy again, “that the Sacred Scrolls predict the arrival of a leader.”

  “That’s President Roslin,” Kara said waspishly “The dying leader. Everyone knows that.”

  “No,” the man said. “That’s from the Book of Pythia. The Book of Glykon predicts the arrival of a spiritual leader who will bring all the tribes together, a Unifier. It says, ‘T
he Unifier shall have a Voice of Gold, and He will save Humanity with the Plague of the Tongue.’”

  “And,” added Louann, “Glykon goes on to say, ‘The Unifier will bring together all Humans into one Tribe under one God.’ Peter’s music—the golden voice—talks about the One. When Alexander and I”—here she took the man’s hand—“heard Peter sing his new song at the concert, it was like a bolt of lightning struck us both. We knew he was it. The Unifier. He will lead us all to the next level of spirituality. He will convince everyone that all the gods are merely facets of a single entity.”

  Kara suddenly felt uneasy, as if someone might be listening in. Perhaps the gods. She turned to Peter. “Do you believe that? Do you believe that the Lords of Kobol—Zeus, Athena, Artemis, all of them—are all different facets of a single god?”

  Peter nodded. “I do. Humans can’t comprehend the true nature of a deity, so we divide the One up into pieces we can comprehend.”

  “And the Cylons taught you this,” Kara said. Her scalp prickled, as if her hair were about to stand up. “Philosophy from a toaster.”

  “Not exactly.” Peter ran a hand through blond hair. “It might be better to say that the Cylons helped me realize the truth. They didn’t convert me to their religion—they didn’t even try—but I lived among them as a slave for all those months, and several truths were revealed to me during that time.”

  “Most spiritual leaders go through a time of trial before truth comes to them,” Alexander pointed out. He was in his forties, and his dark hair had receded almost completely. He needed a trim, however, and his remaining hair stood out like a mane on an aging lion. One of his hands shook slightly. Kara wondered if he had palsy.

  Kara gave the room an uneasy glance. A sizeable group was still listening to the exchange, hanging on every word. Suddenly she wished Lee was there, and that thought made her even more uneasy. Lee would be a bright, solid presence in this place where words spun around like shadows. Peter stood in the center of the room, a sun god surrounded by lesser, darker beings. Kara realized she was in the center with him. As a consort? She pushed that thought aside. Conflicting emotions tugged at her like restless children. She wanted to stand by Peter, feel his warmth and wallow in their shared sexuality. She also wanted to run away, leave his strange ideas far behind and bury them in the shadows.

  And then a server announced dinner would be served and everyone needed to take their seats. The little crowd dispersed. Peter showed Kara to a chair at his right, and Kara decided to let him. No point in giving up a good meal over someone else’s blasphemy.

  The table itself was set with a linen tablecloth and linen napkins. The water glasses were thick, heavy goblets, and the silverware shone like clear water captured beneath a monstrous chandelier. Even during times of struggle, you could find luxury if you looked hard enough or had good enough connections. Earlier in her life, Kara would have felt out of place and uncertain in such grand surroundings, but a military officer quickly learned manners proper for any occasion. When in doubt, pretend the host was your commanding officer and everything else would follow.

  Servers brought bowls of salad—fresh algae—and Peter took up a spot at the head of the table, where he addressed the room. He raised his water glass.

  “A toast,” he said. “First, to Kara Thrace for saving my life, leading me to all of you, and showing me that I don’t need to feel lonely or afraid. Long may she live!”

  “Long may she live!” repeated the room.

  Slightly mollified, Kara nodded to everyone as they thumped their glasses twice on the table and drank to her health. Peter flashed her his trademark wide grin. But she was still unsettled. What the hell was this about? Had Peter made this many friends since she had brought him into the Fleet? She supposed it was possible. He was a celebrity, and celebrities rarely had trouble finding friends—or acquaintances and suck-ups, anyway. She glanced down the long table, trying to see what, if anything, everyone had in common. Almost everyone was her age or younger. The sole exceptions were Louann and Alexander. Both sexes seemed to be equally represented.

  Kara took up her fork and tried a bite of salad. It was dark green and cold, with a slight salty tang. Surprisingly good. It was the first fresh greenery she had eaten in weeks, come to that. As a teenager, Kara had rebelled against eating anything resembling good nutrition. Once she was on her own, the diet of junk food and alcohol had continued, more out of habit than necessity. On Galactica, of course, fresh food was at a premium. Kara hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the stuff until she had some in front of her, and she dug into the salad with delicate relish.

  “We don’t have much time tonight,” Peter said, resuming his seat. “So we’ll start.”

  Start what? Kara wondered, starting to feel uneasy. Her annoyance returned, and she found herself glaring at Peter. He had dumped her into an unknown situation without warning, without even telling her there would be a situation. She felt like he had tricked her.

  “Most of you have been asking questions about my spiritual leanings. I’m here to make some of those clear.” He coughed slightly and took a sip of water. “I believe I am the Unifier mentioned in the Book of Glykon. We humans fight among ourselves. We bicker and bite each other’s backs. All humans once belonged to a single tribe living in splendor on Kobol until they argued and split into thirteen tribes. One of those tribes was lost forever, but instead of learning from this lesson, we still fight among ourselves. We rage over who should get what food and clothing. We bicker over sleeping quarters and medicine. We fight over who should be in charge. Laura Roslin, the dying leader mentioned in the Book of Pythia, actually had to flee the military How did it happen that such an important person should have to run for her life?”

  Kara set down her fork in surprise. Peter must have been busier than she knew. President Roslin’s imprisonment and escape had happened long before he had shown up. Possibly Louann and Alexander had filled him in on the major events of the last few months.

  “The Cylons were able to destroy the Colonies because they were united under a single god with a single belief,” Peter continued. “Our belief in many gods and many tribes weakens us, creates us-against-them among our own kind. The Cylons will eventually win by default—we ourselves will finish the job they started.”

  Kara found herself leaning toward Peter, listening hard as a child sitting at the feet of her grandfather. Peter’s smooth voice dripped hypnotic gold, his handsome face shining with an inner light. His words made sense. How much time had she spent fighting with other people instead of fighting Cylons?

  “We need to reunite ourselves,” he said. “Stop thinking of ourselves as Capricans or Geminese or Librans. We are all human beings. We are—”

  “Heretics!”

  Startled, everyone twisted in their chairs. Sarah Porter was standing in the doorway, her face dark with fury. Five or six more people stood behind her, all dressed in Geminese clothing. Kara tensed.

  “How can you listen to this filth?” Sarah demanded of the room. “You so-called Unity people bring chaos and disruption at a time when we need to be focused. And you, Peter Attis.” She stabbed a furious finger at him. “You and your music spread lies that poison everyone who hears.”

  “How dare you!” Alexander said, leaping to his feet. “You can’t barge in here and—”

  “No.” Peter held up a hand. “No, it’s all right. I welcome the dialogue. Though I’m afraid I can’t invite you to dinner, Representative Porter—we seem to be out of plates.”

  Sarah folded her arms. Her followers remained stoically in place. “I wouldn’t break bread with a poisoner.”

  “Please.” Peter spread his hands. “Exactly what are your objections? I’d love to talk about them with you so everyone here can decide for themselves.”

  “You claim that all the gods are facets of a single god,” Sarah said. “And that path only leads to damnation. It’s what started the exodus from Kobol. The Sacred Scrolls say, ‘One jealou
s god desired to be elevated above all the other gods, and thus the war on Kobol began.’ You and your single god will destroy us all.”

  “The One isn’t a jealous god,” Peter countered. “The One is all gods, and can’t be above or below them. Don’t twist what I say.”

  “You twist what the Scrolls say,” Sarah snapped.

  Louann leaped to her feet. “Leave him alone! Peter’s going to save us. Remember? ‘The Unifier shall have a Voice of Gold, and He will save Humanity with the Plague of the Tongue.’”

  “Nonsense,” Sarah scoffed. “The Book of Glykon was declared apocryphal during the Third Conclave of Kobol.”

  “Only because the Oracle of Arachne was feuding with the Priests,” Alexander retorted, also jumping up. “They knew she favored Glykon’s writings, so they declared the book apocrypha to discredit her. That Conclave was a galandine takil from the very beginning.”

  A chill ran through Kara’s body. What had Alexander said?

  “Arachne was a disgrace to her office!” Sarah growled, not seeming to notice Alexander’s odd language. “Your so-called Unifier has no place in our society!”

  “Ah ha!” Alexander pointed at Sarah. His hand was shaking. Kara stared at it, remembering Kat and Hot Dog. “So you acknowledge that Peter is the Unifier! You recognize our existence, our power. There are more of us than you know, and thanks to Peter, we’re growing. People listen to him, and to us. There are more than five hundred of us now.”

  “Perhaps I’ll have Peter arrested,” Sarah snapped. “For inciting a riot.”

  “Peter isn’t our only leader,” Alexander said darkly. “And you jail the Unifier at your own peril. By throwing him in jail, you acknowledge who he is.”

  “People, please,” Peter interjected. “I don’t want a fight.”

  Sarah ignored him. “I acknowledge no such—”

  And then Alexander toppled over. He landed on the floor, twisting and writhing. A string of nonsense words streamed from his mouth. Louann clapped her hands over her mouth. Everyone else, including Peter and Sarah, stared. Kara recovered first and dashed over to kneel beside him. Alexander continued to yammer.