Best-Laid Schemes—An Empyrean Story

By Lisa Zaza

The best laid schemes of mice and men,
Go oft awry,
And leave us nought but grief and pain,
For promised joy.

Robert Burns

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Chapter One

When Ama, the Empyrean Necromancer, stood and spoke as a member of the Council of the Twelve, it was with both an eloquence, as well as a force of personality, that Adama had seldom seen in any bureautician, especially a woman. There was an internal strength and manner of purpose to her that shone through, making her seem larger than life with a confidence that was both enthralling and entertaining. However, Adama noticed it also distracted the listener from what she was actually saying, even though he found himself nodding along in agreement anyways. It oft made him wonder if she was using some Empyrean powers of the mind on them all, though he had always considered himself beyond such manipulations.

Now what was that she was saying . . .?

"The time is nigh that we unite fully as not only as the Twelve Tribes and those under the protection of the Colonial Union, but as brothers of man, my fellow Council Members. One people moving forth to our ultimate destiny, the planet Earth. I propose that with this in mind that we dedicate a thirteenth seat on our Council. A seat honouring our sister planet, and our future homeworld. Our hopes, our dreams, indeed, our very salvation. A seat that would represent those that we would ask for help and shelter, proving that we have both Earth's best interests in mind, as well as our own. This seat, I'm sure you will all agree—as would his faithful friends and compatriots—could only be filled by one man, Commander Mark Dayton of the Earth Space Shuttle Endeavour."

"Ama, might I clarify, do you envision this seat giving Commander Dayton the same privileges as other members of the Council, or would it be more honorary in nature?" Adama asked her, feeling the need to take his feet, as the woman remained standing on the far side of the Council table to answer any interrogatives.

"Well, I would suggest that if the purpose of this appointment is to have the thirteenth tribe fully represented, as are the other twelve, then it would be logical that Commander Dayton would not only be able to participate and contribute, but to vote on issues of Council concern." Ama returned rationally. "After all, until we reach Earth and the Cylons are defeated utterly and for all time, the same hardships and dangers threaten us all."

"Quite so." Siress Tinia agreed, nodding thoughtfully.

"Have you discussed the matter with Commander Dayton?" Adama asked, despite knowing that she would never present it to Council unless she was reasonably sure of Dayton's cooperation. Some time back, when he had casually overheard Starbuck discussing the matter in a more teasing nature with the NASA Commander—though with Starbuck, one never knew—Adama had thought him ambivalent and even resistant to the idea of actually sitting in their government. Of course, then the likelihood of that happening was practically nonexistent. Perhaps Dayton's feelings had changed?

"Commander Dayton has advised me that, upon invitation from the Council, he would seriously consider the great honour, should we choose to bestow it on him" Ama inserted smoothly. "He takes his responsibility to his people seriously, as I'm sure anyone who has met him would attest to."

"My dear lady, traditionally throughout the yahrens, position on Council has been justified through democratic representation of the populace." Sire Anton inserted, choosing to stay seated. "Commander Dayton and his men only represent five individuals. We are not even certain that they're descendants of the thirteenth tribe."

"A salient point, Sire Anton." Adama agreed, taking his seat again as another voice lent support to his own position. There were certain advantages to having Dayton on Council in some kind of capacity, such as keeping a close eye on the outspoken and now celebrated individual who was not afraid to voice his opinions. It would allow him to vent his criticisms of military and bureaucratic decisions in an appropriate forum, rather than in public on the IFB. However, being a man who valued tradition, Adama also felt that an official seat wasn't justified.

"Yet, as Ama pointed out, we must begin to plan ahead, and to think of Earth as a destination that must be valued and protected at all costs if it is indeed going to be the home of future generations." Siress Tinia offered. "I believe if a Fleet of refugees landed on Earth's doorstep, potentially with great technological advances over our brethren, that our brothers on Earth might consider us to be more of a threat, than long lost family."

"Yes, I concede your point. From some of their 'movies', the people of Earth seem to be rather paranoid about an attack from 'outer space', as they call it." Sire Domra added. "Martians, Klingons, Flying Saucers . . ." He shook his head in bemusement. "They seemed rather preoccupied with the potential threat of other planets and solar systems, even those proven unable to sustain life as we know it."

"It does make one wonder how we would be perceived," Ama agreed. "But if we could present our own . . ." She paused dramatically, eyes turning towards the ceiling as if she was in thought. "Our own Official Earth Liaison Officer, it might ease the shock of our arrival. I'm sure it would be comforting to Earthmen to know that a respected and decorated officer of the United States Armed Forces had some input in our eventual arrival."

"An Earth Liaison Officer." Adama stroked his chin thoughtfully, realizing it would be an effective strategy with the best interests of Earth and her people in mind. "An honorary seat permitting Commander Dayton to influence policy through participation in Council Meetings, but not by direct vote."

"Hear! Hear!" Anton added. "An acceptable compromise that would illustrate that we took our responsibility to Earth seriously, and didn't just expect that she would receive us with open arms."

Adama nodded, as he looked around the Council table. The complexion of Council had changed drastically with the death of Sire Dracus and the election of some younger representatives to Council. Several more 'self-serving' bureauticians, Sires Uri and Geller among them, had failed to be re-elected, as had one or two blustering idiots—for lack of a more 'bureaucratically correct' phrase—Sire Geller specifically coming to mind. It was a clear message from the people that they were ready for a change. Less did the Council concern themselves with honouring and prolonging millennia old traditions, and more did they focus on their future.

And for the first time since the Destruction, the Council unanimously agreed—at least for the time being—that their future was Earth.

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A blue and white planet, looking like the most exquisite, and rarest of jewels, in the vastness of space.

Starbuck had no idea where that thought came from, and if any of Blue Squadron heard him say it out loud, they'd claim he'd gone soft. But, then again, the most dashing and eligible male in the Fleet was currently engaged to be sealed to an Empyrean Princess, so what the frack . . . maybe it was true.

In any case, Commander Adama had given clear and specific orders to geotechnically scan this planet—the third of nine from the sun in this solar system—within a centimetron of its core with every remote sensing method and device at their disposal, all the while staying a respectable distance from the surface. Starbuck hadn't missed the inference, or the way Adama's eyes had sparkled with excitement. This pretty hunk of rock could very well be Earth.

"Tell me again how we happen to be flying together. I want to get my story straight for when the Captain dresses us down." Luana chuckled from her cockpit, as her computer began displaying data on the planet they were sent to check out. Apollo had been endeavouring to keep them apart on patrols since they had both returned to active duty, not wanting their concentration affected by their concern for the other. It was only a matter of time before the Strike Captain made it official and transferred either her or Starbuck out of Blue Squadron, and she had a pretty good idea it wouldn't be Starbuck.

"It's just a routine patrol, Lu. How much trouble can we get in?" Starbuck chuckled when she snorted in return. "Apollo broke his arm playing hover-hockey with the Earthmen this morning. He's in the Life Station having it mended. You were on standby. Somebody had to pull patrol with me, and you had the least amount of cockpit time, and were next up on the roster." Starbuck replied, hitting the switches that transmitted his scans back to the Galactica in real-time. So far, the planet looked ideal for replenishing their supplies, and had the perfect environment for Humans. However, there was a conspicuous absence of anything that could be considered 'civilized' life down there. Not a single Human to be identified among the many life signs that were generally animal at a quick glance. He tightened his orbit of the planet, and concentrated his scanners on a heavily forested area in the northern temperate zone. Lu did the same, altering her own orbit to similarly scan another part of the single continental landmass, this one covered in semi-desert terrain. Starbuck swallowed down that hope that he had only allowed to rise ever so slightly, while awaiting the results of their surveys. Truthfully, he had come to accept some time ago that his generation would never actually see Earth. At least until John, from the Ship of Lights, had intimated that Commander Dayton would act as some kind of liaison for them when they finally arrived there. Ever since then, in the four sectars and five days since encountering the Earthmen, every new solar system that they encountered brought with it a heightened sense of expectation and excitement.

"You're the one who put me on standby, according to Boomer," she pointed out, knowing he had done a little creative manoeuvring to get them to fly together. Flying with Starbuck was always like a refresher course, and far more invigorating than any mere simulation. He would put her through the paces, honing and refining her skills to ensure she would be ready when she finally did encounter hostiles in space. "Hover-hockey? What's that?"

Starbuck sniffed, as he shifted in the cockpit. "Well, it's an Earth game that Ryan introduced us to, but there were a few problems with reproducing it the way they used to play it. First, it's played on ice, so Baker and Hummer designed some hover-shoes. . ."

"Hover-shoes?"

"Pretty much the way you'd imagine them, with miniature suspensors on the soles. You can really get your speed up." Starbuck grinned. It was the closest he had come to breaking a speed limit indoors. "They take some getting used to though, and we haven't perfected a good way to stop yet." Truthfully, it hadn't occurred to the master designers that they needed to be able to stop. It had made their first game—more of an introduction to the sport—an experience that none of them would forget, especially Apollo, and they all had the bruises to remind them.

"Which fairly much proves you're crazy for even thinking about using them," Luana laughed. "So...when do I get to try them?"

"I had a feeling you'd see it that way," Starbuck replied with a grin. It was one of the things that he loved about her. Her thirst for adventure and fun rivalled his own. "Oh, and the area that they usually play on is a lot bigger than anything we have available, so we had to make do."

"Where did you play?"

"The Empyrean Ballroom on the Malocchio." Starbuck replied.

"The Ballroom? I thought that was essentially a storeroom these days?"

"Well, with our Sealing Ceremony practically around the corner . . ."

"Starbuck, it's eight sectars away!" There was a note of desperation to her voice.

He laughed, knowing just how she felt. Eight sectars and three days was the official countdown. "Yeah, well, tell that to Ama." The Empyrean Necromancer seemed to shove something under his nose every time he saw her regarding the 'Social Event of the Yahren'. Frankly, he was amazed that she even had the time to squander on frippery and folly since she had been elected to the Council of the Twelve. However, contrary to his expectations, it hadn't slowed her down. Not one little bit! Not only was she still running Empyrean Ale and Tobacconists, she still insisted on acting as their Sealing Coordinator as well, especially since neither he or Lu had seemed particularly interested in putting any effort forth on their own behalf, feeling it was all getting a little out of hand. Guest lists, seating arrangements, recommendations for musicians, menus, flowers, decorating, denomination of the ceremony, not to mention a choice as to who they wanted to perform it . . . Lords, it made a guy want to run the other way! Screaming. "Anyhow, she's cleared most of the felgercarb away already. It's beautiful, Lu. Looks just like it did for the Empyrean Ball they had, just before we found you. Beautiful hardwood floors polished to perfection . . ."

"Just right for hover-hockey," she smiled ruefully at the irony. "So, Apollo broke his arm? Let me guess. Trouble stopping?"

"Well, actually, Dickins broke it for him when Apollo couldn't stop and barrelled into him. Dickins had control of the hover-puck though, so from what I understand about the game, Apollo had every right to slam into him." Ryan had assured Starbuck that his impression that the rules changed for the Earthling's convenience and advantage was simply his imagination. "I'm reasonably sure it was an accident though."

"Reasonably sure?" Luana asked.

"Dickins gets a bit intense at times. He makes Dayton look good-natured and even-tempered," Starbuck explained wryly.

"Good-natured? The man who took a broadsword, and made cutlets out of Sire Dracus? Good-natured?"

"Well, everybody has a bad day, Lu. Besides, better 'Councilman cutlets' than 'Colonial Warrior cutlets', I always say."

"Maybe Dickins is having a hard time adapting," Luana suggested, ignoring her lover's banter. She knew that the relationship between Dayton and Starbuck had changed irrevocably when the Earthman saved his neck—as well as other bits better left unmentioned—from the deranged bureautician. "It can't be easy when you've spent the last thirty yahrens as a prisoner, Starbuck. Think about it. Especially when you don't speak Colonial Standard and have to carry a languatron around with you to communicate. Maybe you should be a bit more sensitive to that." Her tone was matter of fact. On a smaller scale, she and her Empyreans had had a difficult time adjusting to life in the Fleet from a backwards little planet where they lived in a cave, had a Healer with a propensity for bleeding the ill, and had little in the way of modern conveniences or technological advances. Of course, Starbuck had certainly eased that transition for herself and her sister, Lia.

"I'll try to keep it in mind the next time he body-slams me," Starbuck replied with a sniff, though he knew she was right. Dayton had told him more or less the same thing. That a man couldn't survive that kind of mental and physical trauma, and still come out whole.

"Star-buck." Luana drew out the syllables.

"C'mon, Lu. Who has done more for the Earthlings than me? From what my father was saying, those guys have become wealthy men just on the kickbacks from the Rising Star." The Journey to Earth idea he had come up with had merely launched the phenomenon. Starbuck had known it would be a natural progression. It was Earthmania, as Ryan had declared to Chameleon, the official Public Relations Man for Earthling Enterprises, Inc. Everything remotely to do with Earth was a huge hit. Their collection of 'movies', the free lectures that Dayton and Ryan had done on Earth Culture and History throughout the Fleet, an IFB series of Earth documentaries, Earth food and drink items popping up at restaurants and bars, even astronaut action figures and models of the Endeavour for the kids. There didn't seem to be an end to the marketing possibilities. Any day now, the old Earth space shuttle would be transferred to the Astrodon Freighter and be made available to the public for viewing. Her crew and quite a few volunteers had worked tirelessly to try and put her back together again over the last few sectars, or as close as they could get to the original condition, the availability of parts necessitating some modifications. Dayton was determined to fly her there himself. Tickets to tour her were already sold out for the next six sectars.

"Which in turn, means Chameleon is doing fairly well for himself." Luana added.

"It's keeping him honest." Starbuck inserted. The old conman had been far too busy managing the Earthmen's business affairs to get involved in anything that could be considered questionable, either legally or ethically. Well, other than when he had decided to help manage Ama's campaign when she ran for Council. The two had become thick as thieves, which was a little unnerving. The Necromancer and the Conman. It had all the makings of a bad joke.

Or the next primetime sitcom on IFB.

"He must be bored stiff." Luana laughed. She looked out her cockpit, at the lushly fertile world below, then at her scanners. Despite a massive biosphere and what looked like millions of species down there, there was not one single reading that even resembled a Human. Damn. She had hoped. She tweaked her orbit, as she crossed over into the nightside, to scan more of the same extensive landmass. It was huge.

"Not while he's making cubits," Starbuck grinned, glancing at his control panel as it beeped. Over the open circuit, he could hear her scanners beeping as well.

"Starbuck . . ."

"I've got it, Lu." It took a milli-centon for him to recognize it as he checked the warbook. Frack! "Hit the turbos! Get out of here!"

"What is it?" Luana asked, her body tense as it responded to the anxiety in Starbuck's voice. She hightailed it away from the small, innocuous looking spheroid, only visible to the naked eye because it seemed to be glowing slightly.

"Patrol to Galactica, this is Viper Two." Starbuck was the consummate professional once again. "We've detected a Dynamo, exactly like we picked up over the Pirate Asteroid. It appears inert for the moment. Taking evasive manoeuvres."

"What would a Dynamo be doing here?" Luana asked him. As far as she knew, Dr. Wilker and his team had never identified the origin of the spheroids that the pirates had utilized to incapacitate ships that they had ultimately scavenged. When they had dissected one, the technology was so advanced and unknown, the Science Ship was still in the initial stages of trying to come up with some kind of explanation as to their actual mode of operation. The scientists had been reasonably sure though, after studying endless algorithms, that they weren't actually designed to be a weapon. Starbuck had sworn up and down that Wilker needed to experience being fired on by one of them, and then sitting paralyzed in a defunct Viper as it was towed into an enemy base. Then the scientist would approach that particular unsolved problem with a less nonsensical outlook. Apollo was inclined to agree with him.

"I don't know, but it doesn't exactly fill me with a warm, fuzzy feeling about this place . . ."

"Starbuck!" Her tone of voice a warning unto itself.

Then a bright beam of blue laser shot past his ship, but not on a vector from the detected Dynamo. Where the frack did that come from? And why hasn't it dissipated?

"Galactica to patrol, report!" Athena, all business as usual, at least on the surface.

"Under attack!" Starbuck replied briskly, rolling his ship to the starboard, nodding in approval when he saw Lu go the other way. The energy beam was still there, and now seemed to be expanding both vertically and horizontally, corralling him in on that side. He changed course, trying to evade its widening path.

"Another Dynamo, Starbuck. Frack!" Luana rolled her ship again, as a second beam, shot past her, seemingly intent on cutting off her escape on that heading.

"They're triangulating!" Starbuck cried, as the two beams met at a vertex and connected, the beam growing larger and more powerful still, as a third blue streak began to close the polygon on his scanners. "Galactica, we're in trouble!"

Then the third beam met the other two, and the encompassed area began to fill with the glowing light. It was a web of energy designed to ensnare everything within it, like a monstrous net. Starbuck blinked as it began to rotate, finally closing in around his ship, and no doubt, Lu's. The power to his Viper abruptly died, and he shuddered as the energy penetrated him, making his body tingle with an intensity that made him gasp in shock. Strangely, it wasn't painful, especially comparing it to the last time he'd tangled with a Dynamo. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. Again, he was paralyzed by the effect of the spheroids, just like he had been sectars ago, in a different place and situation. This time it seemed gentler, somehow. Less offensive.

At least until the blue beam intensified around his body. Eyes wide, he watched as his frame seemed to be split into a grid pattern, the bright glow starting at his boots and working its way towards his head. He tried to suck in a rasping breath, barely able to breathe at all, as each cell systematically began to disappear before his eyes. It was like a hand knit sweater coming unravelled with a casual pull of some powerful, unidentified hand. To add to the terror, the Viper was also unravelling around him.

If he could scream, he would have. Closer and closer, each molecular cell—each tiny piece of him—erased before his eyes, until everything from his chest down was gone. It was like being consumed alive! But by what? His mind steadfastly rejected what was happening before his eyes, as he watched himself carved up into miniscule pieces, processed, and removed from existence. The very worst part was he was alert, and excruciatingly aware of it the entire time.

Fleetingly, he thought of Lu, well aware that he had failed to protect her. He tried to close his eyes, unable to watch anymore, but even that small voluntary movement was denied him. Finally, he prayed that the end would come quickly.