Battlestar Galactica: Season Five

Episode One: If Wishes Were Fishes

Landfall

An angry voice cut across the plains, stark contrast to the brilliance of the African sun, the soft breeze that eased the blistering heat. Long yellowed grass waved with the breath of air, and a lone Goshawk circled lazily through the blue above the forests Landfall was backed against.

"It needs to be done! You know that!"

"What I know, Mr Adama, is that in order for us to have any hope of continued survival, we need our machinery. Our ships. Our medical equipment." Romo Lampkin, president of Earth, was relaxed, sitting under the rough pavilion with Jake panting happily at his feet, red tongue lolling out. His tone was dry as he eyed Lee Adama who stood tense and frustrated several feet away, fists bunched up and hair flattened to his forehead, damp and limp with sweat.

There was a long pause.

"Are we really going to do this again, Mr Adama? Lee? You know my position on the matter. And I'm not changing that position." Romo stretched out his legs and Jake shuffled to one side shooting his master an indignant doggy glare. Lee had given him Jake – not just a dog, but also a gift of hope, trite as that might be. And now, here Romo was, at odds with the golden child of the fleet, the onetime Captain Apollo. It was not a pleasant situation to be in.

He liked Lee, really he did, but when Lee had given Romo Lampkin the presidency he had abdicated any right to dictate how the ex-fleet was going to be run. And Romo was nothing if not a pragmatist. There was nothing Lee Adama or anyone else could say that would justify sending the fleet's ships along with all the remaining tech into the godsdamned sun. His people – the phrase sounded bloody ridiculous, but there it was – were not going to suffer and die for Lee Adama's fears of the cycle repeating. Hell, the cycle could be assured to repeat as far as Romo Lampkin bloody cared, which was not a whit. His concern was the humans – and Cylons – still alive at this moment.

"The future of humanity – of humans and Cylons – it depends on this not happening again! Have we really fought this hard, survived this much, just to doom our descendants to the same fate?" Lee was a passionate speaker; that was a fact. Even in his pilot's singlet and dusty uniform trousers and face red and sweaty, he was lit with the fires of righteousness. Pity it was misplaced.

Romo rolled up his shirtsleeves and wiped sweat from his own brow with a damp cotton hanky. This was going nowhere.

"Thank you for your concerns, Mr Adama." There was a tiredly amused twinkle in Romo's eyes as he met Lee's. This was just yet another interlude in the ongoing saga of their conflict since arrival on Earth. Lee glared for a moment, sharp features blunted by frustration and hands still balled up at his sides. He turned and left without a word, disappearing into the glare of the sun.

Romo sighed to himself, reached down and scratched Jake behind his ears.

"Remind me again why I took this bloody job." Jake tilted his head at his master and grinned a doggy grin. Romo nodded thoughtfully, eyes unfocused as he looked out over the makeshift and half-finished buildings that made up the main settlement. All these people, and all the others scattered across the continent and beyond were one cynical lawyer's reluctant responsibility, the charges of a man who to be quite frank, had no liking for humanity as a whole.

"I know, Jake. Very funny. But if you'll look carefully, you'll see I am not laughing."

# # #

"Well, your blood pressure is fine. Minimal swelling. The baby is moving around well. I'd say everything seems fine." Gruff as always, Doc Cottle smiled down at his patient who sat up nervously on the bed, fingers twining in her lap. She would rather not be here, but Helo had insisted they come. He stood hovering beside her now with a worried expression drawing his lips thin and taut, Hera securely balanced on his hip.

"You're sure, Doc?" Helo fretted and Athena rolled her eyes, one arm cradled around enormous swell of her belly as she swung her legs off the bed and stood up with an effort. Doc Cottle grunted.

"I'm as sure as I can be in these godsdamned conditions. I don't have ultrasound, a heartbeat monitor, gestational diabetes tests – I'm a Doctor not a godsdamned miracle worker or seer. I told you; they're both healthy as far as I can tell. Come back in two weeks and I'll check again. Now get. I've got more patients to see, you know." Cottle stuffed a battered cigarette between his lips and jerked his head at the curtains portioning off the bed as he lit it, smoking almost viciously. Athena paused by the curtain-door,

"You can't tell if it's a – "

"Boy or girl in there?" Cottle interrupted,

"No. I can't. Now quit holding me up."

"Thank you." Athena smiled at him and made her way out into the main part of the hospital structure, past the line of people waiting to see the overworked understaffed doctors that worked here. There were a grand three in total, to see to the medical needs of almost twelve thousand humans and Cylons.

Athena had heard a few Sixes were in training to become at least semi-competent in basic medicine, and no doubt some humans were as well.

She wouldn't really know though; she, Helo and Hera lived around three klicks along from of the main settlement in a little cabin in the hills above the edge of the plains, surrounded by forest and with a stream cutting down from the mountains winding past nearby. The water was icy and clear, and Hera built little dams out of smooth river stones.

Outside of the darkened ramshackle ship-panel walls and roof of Landfall's hospital the weather was beautiful. Athena walked close to Helo and their hands brushed, fingers curling together as they made their way through the sprawling settlement. It backed onto the forest that banded the foot of the mountains, small rivers and streams spidering down through the trees and providing fresh water for people and crops.

Landfall was long and narrow, as most people wanted to build in or near the shade and relative cool of the forest, although the necessity of keeping the settlement from spreading out too much meant a good third of the buildings were out in the unshaded scorching heat of the plains – mostly public buildings like the hospital. Houses built from scavenged ship parts made up the bulk of the settlement, laid out with enough space for each dwelling to have its own little garden. Mostly people were practical and tended only edible plants, but there were the occasional bright splashes of colourful flowers, wilting now in the summer heat. Around the settlement itself further out onto the plains were the farms – large swathes of rough ploughed land planted with whatever plant life that had been determined edible.

A lot of people's nutrition depended on hunting at the moment. They had discovered a prolific wild plant that was similar to the wheat they had back on the colonies, and several hardy tuber-producing plants, but everything edible was also in a highly undomesticated state. It would take generations before they had horticulture that even vaguely resembled what they had on the colonies. They trapped four-legged large furred creatures high in the hills, and hunted deer and other herd animals with guns, spears and bows on the expansive plains – Helo and Athena had become very skilled at it now.

Jeanne, one of the women who had been involved in Gaius Baltar's cult watched their daughter while Athena and Helo hunted. She and a number of those who sympathised with Lee lived close together in the hills, a community that eschewed the technology they had brought with them that still orbited the planet.

Athena knew it was ironic to be a machine that turned your back on technology, but all the Twos had done so – every single one.

Of course, Athena couldn't go hunting anymore. At (they guessed) around seven months her belly was too big, she moved too slowly, and she didn't want to put her baby at risk. Her back ached and Athena sighed and rolled her head on her shoulders, squeezing Helo's hand to reassure him. He had been a wreck ever since they had found out she was pregnant again. It was to assuage his doubts that she had come in to see Doc Cottle. Her own midwife was Ishay – another who agreed that they needed to start fresh on Earth without technology, lest they risk repeating the cycle of man verus machine.

Usually the only time Athena came into Landfall was to trade meat and skins for vegetables and other supplies. She had adjusted surprisingly easily to the hard life they lived out in the hills, surviving by the skin of their teeth. It reminded her of when she and Helo had been back on Caprica, on the run together, falling in love, getting pregnant with Hera…

Her daughter sensed her mother's eyes on her and held out her arms, leaning toward her in Helo's grasp.

"Come to mummy." Athena reached out for her little girl. Helo shot her a concerned look.

"Are you sure she'd not too heavy?"

"I'll be fine, Helo." She rolled her eyes. She had more than proved her toughness en route to this final destination, and yet her husband still worried about whether she could carry her daughter home.

Hera was a warm lithe bundle in her arms and her curly head rested on Athena's shoulder, bare arms and legs sticky with sweat.

"If she gets too heavy –"

"I'll give her back to you." Athena finished and kissed her daughter's curls, smiling up at Helo as they headed for the cool shelter of the forest.

# # #

"Frakking savages, that's what they godsdamned are." Colonel Tigh – not a Colonel any longer really, but hell he would always think of himself that way – lowered the binoculars and wriggled back below the ridgeline, glaring one-eyed at Starbuck. She snorted, shrugged a shoulder in that insolent manner that still made him want to land one right on her smarmy face.

"They're proto-humans. I don't know what you're expecting, Colonel. Poetry readings?"

"Ha. Well not eating their enemies would be a start." Saul Tigh had seen a lot of horror over his lifetime (lifetimes?), but what was going on a klick away made his gorge rise. Starbuck looked through the binocs again, peering at the grisly scene and grimaced, nodded, falling back beside him and lying on her back, silent.

He waited.

"Can't we take them out? This isn't right. Just watching them."

"President says no. Council agrees. There's too few of the bastards to start killing 'em off if we want them to survive." Tigh replied roughly, wishing they could just take them out. Wasn't right.

"Frak the Council and Romo Frakking Lampkin. Those are our people out there." The maverick young woman actually made for the ridgeline, scrambling to her feet and Tigh pulled her back down roughly.

"For once – my gods – I actually agree with you, Starbuck. But those aren't our orders. Those poor souls out there are dead and gone anyway, they don't care if they're mister godsdamned Savage's dinner to boot." Tigh felt a pang of sympathy as Starbuck screwed up her face with frustration, slamming her fist onto the hard ground,

"Frak it!"

"Come on. We better get back to Landfall." Tigh rolled to his feet with a grunt and started for the settlement, not waiting for Starbuck to get her lazy ass up and moving. She caught up with him after a moment anyway, loping easily along next to him, features still crumpled and angry, wasting her breath on muttered curses.

Landfall was only five klicks away – the savages were moving in closer, getting braver. Like godsdamned animals becoming accustomed to human presences and losing their fear. This was the fourth time a farm had been attacked, and people were getting scared. Good reason, too. Ordinary colonists had no chance against even a small band of those fierce proto-human hunters. A spear through the chest, and if they were lucky they died before they got eaten.

This was not good. The violence was escalating steadily, and they couldn't afford to lose any more colonists – in purely practical terms they needed every man and woman for both reproduction and the farming they did.

The president, Mister Romo Lampkin, had tried to make peaceful contact when they had first arrived on Earth, but the savages had wanted none of it and an altercation had resulted in two wounded on their side, and five dead proto-humans. Something had to be done, but how did you try and explain yourself to a people so unevolved they didn't even have language? That was a tough one. But the situation was escalating fast, and there was no solution in sight. If it was true that they needed the proto-humans in order to widen the gene pool enough to survive well into the future, well, in Tigh's opinion, they were all frakked.

# # #

"You're back. I was getting worried." Lee looked up from the smiling widely at Starbuck and vacillated over whether to kiss her or not. He could never tell with her what would be accepted without reserve and what would be rejected. One day she might be open and connected with Lee, and the next she would be cold and distant and preoccupied with things she never spoke to him about. But at least she was with him.

Her form was silhouetted in the doorframe and Lee couldn't see her face. Outside, behind her, the sun was sinking in the sky, and the air was swiftly turning chill. Starbuck unclipped her gun belt and strung it on a wooden peg by the cabin door – everything in their house was made from materials found on the planet, Lee refused to make use of any technology, not even old ship parts like most of those in Landfall. It would be hypocritical. It was bad enough that he was living with someone who still worked for the Council and the President. Many of those who agreed with him were…disapproving of his relationship with Kara Thrace.

"I stopped at Joe's Bar for a drink. Needed to relax. There was another attack by the natives. Three colonists killed. We got word from a family on a nearby farm who heard the screams. Now they won't go back to work their farm without a military escort, and we don't have anyone spare." Starbuck latched the door shut and moved to Lee, hair in damp straggles and skin pink, no doubt from washing in a stream, her clothes still dusty and smelling of musky sweat. She was glowingly beautiful. Lee kissed her cheek and she smiled at him, ran her thumb over his lips and he felt his heart leap in his chest.

"Three dead. I went out with Tigh and when we got there they were eating them. Godsdamned eating them, Lee! And the president wants us to inter-breed?" She flapped her arms by her sides, sighed harshly and turned away, staring into the small fire their stew pot hung above.

"It's madness."

"I may disagree with Romo about a lot of things, but he's right about that, Kara. We need them. Besides, what would you have us do? Wipe them out?"

"Yes!"

"Commit genocide, Kara? Really?" Lee turned Starbuck to face him and she bit her lip, shook her head, defeated, her face shadowed and lit by the flickers of the fire.

"No. I guess not. Gods. Nothing's changed, has it, Lee?" She let him hold her, resting her chin on his shoulder, her body warm and solid against his, wirier even than it used to be. Their diet didn't allow for more than the bare minimum nutrients. At least it wasn't algae. He carded his fingers through her hair and sighed, mind half elsewhere.

"I thought it would be different here." Her voice was plaintive, and Lee knew he held the more vulnerable Kara in his arms. Tonight she was the Kara who accepted his comfort and company without hesitation or distance, who talked to him like she used to, before Anders and New Caprica and Dualla. Lee felt guilty for actually liking it when she was like this – he shouldn't like her being unhappy, but it was the only time he felt she really needed him, wanted him there with her.

"We all did." Lee couldn't say anything to comfort her – there was nothing to say. So he kissed her, lips meeting firmly, her mouth tasting like tobacco and moonshine.

Starbuck's arms wound around him and her tongue flicked against his lips, the kiss deepening, fierce and greedy. Lee forgot all about Romo Lampkin, about his lost father, about the stew of foul-tasting roots and mere handful of meat that bubbled gently in the pot. Kara Thrace eclipsed it all, demanding every fibre in his being focus on her. The feel of her body in his arms, her hot mouth on his, her fingers fumbling with his belt. They stumbled across the room shedding clothes as they went, falling in a naked tangle of limbs onto the furs that were their bed, Starbuck straddling his hips. She tossed her head and her long damp hair fell down her back as she grinned at Lee with that grin that was Starbuck; brazen and almost defiant. As if she was daring him to… Lee grabbed her waist and flipped her over onto her back, and now it was his turn to smile down at her, triumphant. Then her legs wrapped around his hips, and Lee thrust into her and his smile dissolved into a moan, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. Starbuck arched beneath him, soaking in the pleasure like a satisfied cat, her eyes slipping half shut as her breath quickened and she gasped. His name.

"Lee. Oh gods. Lee." And for a brief moment Lee was happy with everything exactly the way it was.

# # #

"I finished the floor today. No more packed dirt under my feet, but actual wooden boards. I can't stain it or finish it, but I've polished it smooth as glass, and it looks rather nice. Like honey. I think you'd like it, Laura." A pause, the sun glinting just above the horizon and washing the sky in fire and pink.

"I dug up some of the plants I put in the garden a few months back. They'd died off, so I thought they'd come to nothing, but underneath each were a good dozen of those tubers. They were quite tasty, actually, roasted up. I knew they were edible, I told you, didn't I." Another long silence as though listening, hooded eyes squinting into the glare of the setting sun. A bunch of flowers were clasped in a wrinkled hand, the flower heads drooping a little.

"Yes. Sometimes I do wonder how they're doing. Lee. Kara. Saul. The little girl. Even that godsdamned Baltar. Are they alive? Are they thriving? Is this promised land everything they wished for? But no, I don't want to go back, Laura. This is my retirement, at last, well overdue. Here with you." Silence as the sun slipped below the mountains in the distance, sky slowly darkening. The stars were shining bright in the black before the old man pushed himself up and laid the wilting posy gently on Laura Roslyn's cairn.

"Good night, Laura."