[Battlestar Galactica Reimagined 04] - Unity

by Steven Harper - (ebook by Undead)

  “So are you here to tell me something useful or just kibbitz while I work?”

  “Work?” She gestured at the incubator. It was the size of a small refrigerator and filled with warm test tubes. “Looks like the machines are doing the work for you.”

  “Mmmmm.” Gaius changed slides and looked again. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to lend a hand.”

  “Why not call Dr. Cottle in to help you?”

  “Cottle is a doctor, not a research scientist. Besides, he’s shaking too much to be of any use. Looks like it’s just me.”

  “Chosen by God,” Number Six said, “and working like a devil. That’s you, isn’t it, Gaius?”

  “Just hand me that box of syringes, would you?”

  “I think it would be more appropriate if I just watched.”

  “That’s not what you said half an hour ago,” Baltar teased.

  Six smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile or a sensuous one. It was the sort of smile Baltar had come to dread over the months. His good mood faltered.

  “What?” he asked.

  “There’s something you’re forgetting, Gaius.”

  Kara was in a frak-it mood by the time the Raptor was safely aboard the Galactica on Deck Five, so she pulled off her vac suit helmet and climbed out the shattered canopy instead of exiting through the hatchway. Only five people were waiting for her—the plague was getting worse. Three of the people were combat troops Kara didn’t recognize. Their rifles were at the ready, and she assumed they were there for Sharon. The fourth was Karl “Helo” Agathon. His face was pale and his uniform was dirty.

  The fifth was Lee Adama.

  At first Kara’s mind couldn’t process what she was seeing. The bomb had gone off. Lee was dead. But there he was. Bruises and burns mottled his face and arms. He had replaced his shirt. A bandage covered one cheek. But there he was. Gladness as wide as a rainbow poured over her, and she grabbed him in a hard hug.

  “Ow!” they both said as the embrace aggravated their injuries. They backed away from each other, unable to repress the grins that stretched their faces.

  “You bastard!” she said. “I thought you died in that explosion.”

  “I thought so, too,” Lee admitted. “Piece of machinery shielded me. That, and the fact that the bomb went off inside the loader scoop. If Peter hadn’t run when he had, I would be dead.”

  “Peter.” Emerging sorrow dampened the gladness. “He saved us both, then.”

  “Yeah,” Lee said grimly. “Maybe.” And he held up his hands to remind Kara that they were still shaking.

  Helo stepped forward and gave Kara a hug of his own, but gently. Then he said, “Was Sharon—our Sharon—really on board the Raptor with you?”

  “Sure thing,” Sharon said, emerging from the Raptor, her vac suit already removed. Before anyone could react, Helo grabbed her in a hard embrace and kissed her. She kissed him back. Kara shot a sidelong glance at Lee and caught him shooting a sidelong glance at her. A moment passed and Lee took a step toward her. Kara leaned in.

  Then she kissed him quickly on the cheek. He smelled of metal and sweat. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said brusquely.

  “Uh, yeah,” he replied. “Thanks.”

  The three marines, meanwhile, moved in on Sharon and Helo, safeties off, expressions tense. Sharon noticed them and stepped away from Helo, hands raised. “Don’t shoot. I’m not going to make any sudden moves or hurt anyone.”

  One of the marines brandished his rifle. “Toas—”

  “Don’t finish that phrase, soldier,” Kara interrupted. “Unless you want a world of trouble from an unexpected direction.”

  The marine shut his mouth.

  “What the frak happened?” Lee said.

  “How’s the Old Man?” Kara countered.

  “Barely functional. Tigh’s mostly in charge.”

  “Aw, frak.” This from Sharon. The Cylon allowed the marines to put shackles on her wrists and ankles. Around her neck, one of them fastened a man-catcher—a collar with a stiff pole instead of a leash. Helo watched, a pained look on his face, but he didn’t interfere.

  “I won’t let him hurt you, Sharon,” Kara said. “But we all need to catch up.”

  “The President’s already in the CIC conference room with the Old Man,” Lee said. “Come on.”

  They made a strange procession through the corridors of the Galactica—Lee and Kara both limping and sore, Sharon hobbling at the end of the man-catcher, the grim-faced marines with their ready weapons. The corridors, however, were mostly empty.

  “Where is everyone?” Kara asked. “Down with the plague?”

  “I guess,” Lee said. “Helo and I grabbed one of the Monarch’s shuttles and rushed over here after Helo talked to Sharon—the other Sharon. Helo can still fly, and we were hoping to get him into a Viper or another Raptor, something faster than a shuttle, so we could intercept you. But all the combat ships are down—not enough knuckle-draggers to keep them running. Everyone on the Galactica is either too shaky to do anything but lie in their bunks, or they’re trying to run three and four duty stations at the same time.”

  “Have you told them about…” Kara trailed off, not sure how much she should say.

  “No,” Lee said. “I’ve talked to CIC, but I haven’t been up there yet.”

  Helo muttered something that sounded like, “We’re all ass-frakked,” but he didn’t elaborate. Kara concentrated on staying upright. Exhaustion was weighing down on her like a lead blanket. How long had it been since she’d had a real rest? Or sleep? She couldn’t remember. Escaping from the other Sharon hadn’t been the end of her problems—or the Fleet’s.

  CIC was almost empty. Kara counted six people, none of whom she knew, desperately trying to run stations designed for twenty. They barely glanced up as the group passed through on their way to the conference room. Kara swallowed. If a Cylon basestar showed up now, they were dead.

  Though the same was true if a basestar didn’t show up.

  The CIC conference room was hushed and dimly lit. At the table sat Commander Adama, Colonel Tigh, and Laura Roslin.

  President Roslin’s hands were on the table, and they trembled only slightly. Adama, on the other hand, was clearly fighting to keep himself upright and his mouth shut. Tigh was trembling but seemed functional. They all eyed Sharon as the marines herded her through the door. Sharon was keeping her face impassive, and Kara wondered how she felt about being hauled around like an animal. Did she get angry? Or maybe she found all the extra security flattering, along the lines of “only someone truly dangerous rates this kind of treatment.” Kara decided that if she were ever in Sharon’s position, she’d try to feel flattered.

  Everyone took a seat except Sharon, who stood to one side.

  “We don’t have time for preliminaries, so I’ll just ask about the bad news now,” Roslin said. Her voice was soft and tired as an old blanket. “I don’t see Peter, so I assume he’s dead.”

  Kara gave a reluctant nod, and felt cold fear and hopeless despair settle across the room. “Sharon—a different Sharon—killed him.” She briefed them on what had happened to her since the kidnapping and was surprised to learn she’d been gone for less than a day. It felt like a week.

  The table remained silent for a moment after Kara’s briefing. Adama was sweating with the effort of remaining silent, and Kara wanted to comfort him. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do.

  “Sharon,” Roslin said at last. “Tell us what happened to you.” Roslin’s voice carried an edge of ice. The President loathed all Cylons and had never warmed to Sharon, even after repeated demonstrations that she meant the Fleet no harm and was, in fact, helping as best she could.

  “Where should I start?” she asked.

  “From your jailbreak,” Roslin said levelly. “When you killed that marine and sent the other to sickbay.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone,” Sharon said, though her tone said she expected no one would believe her. “The other copy
did.”

  “Thank gods,” Helo said with a small sigh.

  Sharon gave him a small smile. “She wiped out the guards at the cell and broke me out, but she wasn’t offering to get me off the Galactica or anything like that.”

  “What did she offer you?” Roslin said.

  “Nothing. She said there was a secret compartment in the escape pod on Deck Five and that I’d better find a way to get there and hide.” Sharon paused and licked her lips. “She was going to use me as a scapegoat or a distraction or both. Commander Adama would order search teams to look for me, and that would take extra time and resources and allow her to do what she wanted more easily. They also know that I’ve been helping the Fleet. If I got caught and was blamed for killing the guard, you’d never believe another word I said. My so-called escape was a way to neutralize any further help I might give the Fleet.”

  “She could have just killed you,” Roslin said.

  “That would kill the baby, too,” Sharon replied. “Not what she—or any other Cylon—would want.”

  “Why didn’t you just come forward?” Tigh demanded. “Let yourself get caught?”

  “Him,” Sharon said, nodding toward Helo. “She knocked him out just after the escape and stuck a microdetonator under the skin on the back of his skull. She told me she’d blow Helo to pieces if I got caught.”

  Helo’s hand stole to the back of his head. His face was pale. “That’s why my head’s been itching lately?”

  “Probably. I’m so sorry, Helo.”

  “Is it going to… you know… go off now?”

  “If it hasn’t by now, I’d say you’re safe,” Sharon said. “Like Kara—Lieutenant Thrace—said, the other one is sucking vacuum, or vacuum is sucking her.”

  “Why didn’t she pop it off outside the Raptor?” Helo pressed. “When I had the pistol?”

  Sharon shrugged within the man-catcher. “Who knows? I’d guess she thought you weren’t a serious danger to her, and it was more fun to play with you. The detonator was aimed more at me than you anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Helo muttered. “Gods.”

  “That’s what you meant when you said you had to wait until the other Sharon was in a vac suit,” Kara said with new understanding. “If she was wearing the detonator on her belt or something, she wouldn’t be able to set it off with the suit in the way.”

  “Yeah,” Sharon said. “I hid until I was sure Helo would be safe.” She shifted position within her shackles and the chains clinked. “Anyway, I didn’t know what to do after the other Sharon sprung me, so I hid for a while. But Chief Tyrol found the secret compartment in the pod, and I couldn’t stay there anymore. I snuck on board the Raptor that transported the marines to the Monarch. Once you all boarded, I slipped out and tried to get the other Sharon alone, but I couldn’t.”

  “Those were your footsteps we kept hearing,” Lee said.

  “Probably. I couldn’t think of a way to get Peter out of there without getting me and Helo killed, so I just waited. Once I realized the other Sharon was going to take Lieutenant Thrace back to the Raptor, I ran ahead. You know the rest of it.”

  “Nothing… matters of state on the steps of—” Adama clamped his teeth together and tried again. “Nothing… matters. All dead soon.”

  That silenced further conversation. Kara bit her lip. The Commander was completely right. Within a day or so, everyone Kara had worked so hard to save would be dead. It would be her, Sharon, and maybe a few other people rattling around in the ships.

  Something occurred to Kara. “I can help a few people,” she said. “Anyone who has AB blood can get the cure from me. No one else, though.”

  “That’s about four percent of the population,” Lee said. “It’ll help. Every life will help.”

  He didn’t say what his blood type was, and Kara found she couldn’t bear to ask.

  “And maybe someone can extract the cure from my blood and help others,” Kara said instead. “Tom Zarek was also cured, so maybe we can use his blood, too.”

  “We’ll have to try,” Lee agreed. “Though Dr. Baltar said—”

  The phone buzzed. Adama looked like he wanted to pick it up, but held back for obvious reasons. Everyone glanced uncertainly at everyone else. At last, Kara reached across the table and snatched up the receiver with her steady hands.

  “CIC,” she said. “Lieutenant Thrace.”

  “Doctor Baltar here,” said a familiar voice. “It’s good to hear your voice, Lieutenant. How are you?”

  Kara kept her voice neutral. She had been trying to forget that she and Baltar had shared a brief, torrid bedroom session, but every time she saw him, the memory surfaced. She still couldn’t believe she had done it.

  “I’m just dandy,” she said, aware that every eye in the room was on her. “What’s going on? Commander Adama’s… indisposed right now, if you’re looking for him.”

  “Is he there? I know he probably can’t talk reliably.”

  “Yes. What do you want, Dr. Baltar?” She added the latter so everyone would know who she was talking to.

  “Just to see if everyone is there. I have… I have more news about the plague.”

  Kara closed her eyes. She didn’t know if she could handle more bad news. “What is it?”

  “It’d be easier to show you than to tell you,” he said. “If everyone is there, I’ll just come up.”

  Kara relayed this to the others. Laura Roslin took charge and gave assent. A few minutes later, Gaius Baltar entered the room. His lab coat was neat and pressed, his face shaven, his hair combed, his tie straight. Kara wondered where he found the time and energy. She also noticed that his hands weren’t shaking at all. How had he escaped the plague?

  Baltar was carrying a tray covered by a black cloth. He glanced at Sharon in surprise but didn’t comment on her presence. Instead, he set the tray down at the head of the table and took up a position there.

  “What is it, Doctor?” Roslin asked softly. “How much worse can it get?”

  “Actually, the news is rather better than you might think.” He whipped the cloth aside with a flourish, revealing a row of syringes. The needles gleamed in the dim light of the conference room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the cure for the plague of tongues.”

  CHAPTER

  17

  Confused babbling broke out around the table. A fair amount of it was literal nonsense. Commander Adama lost his fragile control and jabbered, a look of shock on his craggy face. Tigh joined in. Until now, his speech had been clear, but being startled seemed to push him over some sort of edge. Roslin and Lee both shouted questions. Only Kara, Sharon, and her guards remained silent, though Sharon’s guards stared at the syringes as if they were a rich pile of emeralds and rubies. Through it all, Gaius Baltar stood at the head of the table, his arms folded across his chest, a look of triumph on his face. Kara found herself distrustful instead of glad.

  At last, Lee bellowed for quiet and the room fell silent. Or nearly so. Adama and Tigh babbled gibberish for a few seconds before managing to quiet themselves.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Roslin said. Her body was shaking now. Kara wondered if the plague was worse for her because of the cancer. “Doctor, if those injections will cure the plague, I think you should administer them now. We’ll have the explanation later.”

  “Of course, Madam President.” Baltar moved quickly about the room with the tray. He started with Commander Adama, then followed up with Tigh and Roslin. When he reached Kara, she held up her hand.

  “I’m good,” she said.

  Baltar gave her an odd look, but continued around the table. He also injected Sharon’s guards. He didn’t offer one to Sharon and she didn’t ask. Cylons had red blood, that Kara knew—she had seen enough of it over the months—but she doubted it was compatible with human biology.

  “You should begin to feel better almost immediately,” Baltar said. “The prions fasten onto your nervous tissue early on, and that starts the shaking and the babbling, but t
hey don’t do permanent damage until later in the cycle, when the patient is in a coma.”

  “How, Doctor?” Roslin asked. She was rolling her sleeve back down. “You said it would take you two or three days to manufacture the C prion.”

  “True,” Baltar admitted. “But I found a… shortcut in the middle of the process.” He paused and made a tiny shudder before continuing. “I had also been operating under the assumption that I would begin to shake as well, which would slow me down. It never happened. I seem to be part of that tiny percentage of a given population that is naturally immune to any given disease.”

  “Lucky for us,” Tigh said.

  “Indeed,” Baltar said. “Even as we speak, the incubator in my lab is making enough Prion C to innoculate the entire Fleet. I have enough to start on the military—and the government, Madam President. They can handle distribution.”

  Tigh got up and clapped Baltar on the back. “You’re a hero, Doctor. A real hero.”

  And then everything fell into place. Kara knew. Her jaw tightened and her stomach oozed with nausea. She rose abruptly. “I have to go,” she said. “I can … I can help with the distribution process. I’ll go down to sickbay and see to it. Commander?”

  “Dismissed, Lieutenant,” Adama said hoarsely. As Kara turned to go, he added, “Lieutenant.”

  She stopped and turned.

  “I was sorry to hear about what happened to Peter,” he said.

  A lump formed in Kara’s throat. Peter had infected her with a disease, aided in her kidnapping, and duped hundreds of people into joining a monotheistic little cult. But before that, he had been funny and kind and fascinating. A few minutes before his death, Kara had hated Peter, found him weak and self-centered. But when the timer was counting down those final seconds, he could have stayed with Lee in the hope that the Captain would find a way to disarm the explosive at the last moment. Instead, Peter had given up the hope in order to save Lee’s life. Kara didn’t know how to feel about Peter right then, but she did know his bloody death made her sad in a way she didn’t want to explore right then. So she nodded acknowledgment to Adama and left the conference room.