Post-Requiem
by Jon Ramer (3,700 words)
150,000 Years Ago....
He didn't notice when her hand fell to the console for the last time, he was looking out the cockpit window admiring the flocks and herds of amazing wildlife below. "Just looking for a quiet little place for that cabin," he said to her. "Maybe a garden." He banked the aircraft a little to give her a better view of a ridgeline ahead. "I don't have much of a green thumb, so I hope that you do."
That was when he glanced over. At first he thought she had just closed her eyes, then the realization hit him. A wave of grief crashed through his heart. Reaching over, he grabbed her hand with both of his, briefly checking for a pulse in the vain hope that she was still with him. He had known this moment was coming, but nothing could prepare him for it actually arriving.
He raised her limp hand to his lips and kissed it, knowing that this would be the last time her would ever feel her warmth. For a moment, the emotions overwhelmed him, a small sob escaped his lips and a tear dripped to her hand. She was the love of his life. She had shared his dreams, his hopes, his sorrows, his bed, his victories, his failures. Everything. His wife in every way except in name. He could not put her in the earth without that. Hands shaking in grief, he slipped the ring from his finger and slid it onto hers. With a last kiss, he tenderly put her hand down.
"Right there. I'm going to build it right there Laura."
He banked the Raptor around, dropped the landing gear, and angled in for a landing on the ridge he saw what seemed like an eternity ago. After the noise of the engines whined down to silence, he just sat in his seat, unable to move, staring at her, memories of his life both before and after meeting her rolling through his mind. It was difficult to even remember the before part, so much had happened. The attack, the fleet, the flight for survival, battle after battle aboard the now gone Galactica. Though it all, Laura had been there. Even the loss of his ship paled in comparison to losing her.
Finally, a soft breeze picked up outside and the leaves of a nearby tree began to gently sway back and forth. Seeing the motion restarted something in his brain and he got up, popped the hatch, and stepped outside to find the right place bury Laura - his wife. It didn't take long to find the perfect spot, the crest of a hilltop barely a hundred meters from where he landed.
It was hard work, digging her grave, collecting stones for her cairn, but it gave him something to do, a purpose. By the end of the day, he was alone sitting beside her final resting place, tired and empty, wondering what to do next. As he watched the sun set over the distant mountains, the sky lit up in a dazzling display of light, spilling a carpet of color across the valley to the east. It was like a message, a beautiful slice of heaven brought down to earth before him.
"Okay Laura, I'll start the cabin tomorrow."
He spoke to her every day for the rest of his life.
The cabin went up with view facing the valley, the garden right next to it, though the plants never really did very well. He lived out of the Raptor for the first couple of months while working on the cabin, but finally closed the hatch one last time and walked away, never to go back. He fished from the nearby stream, learned to trap small game, and make his own tools. Six years after he moved into the cabin, he caught a fever. After three days he knew it was time. He crawled from his cot to the cabin door and used the doorframe to stand on his own two feet, then staggered over to Laura's grave.
He stumbled and half fell, half sat beside the pile of stones. The same tree swayed in the wind before him, clouds drifted silently by in the sky above. As the sun went down, the sky and valley lit up in amazing colors. "I loved you..." he whispered hoarsely, "Laura Adama...." He fell the rest of the way to the ground as the sun vanished and everything faded to dark.
***
Saul Tigh saw the Raptor climb into the sky and peel off to the west, away from where he and his group were heading. He couldn't actually see who was piloting, but somehow he knew. He knew in his heart who it was and why. And he knew that he'd never seen his closest, dearest friend ever again. "Goodbye Bill," he whispered as the Raptor dwindled into the distance. Ellen squeezed his hand and he knew she was watching Bill go too.
Long after the speck had vanished into the sky, he finally looked down, then back up into Ellen's eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked.
He gave her a lopsided grin. "I could use a drink."
She laughed and smiled. "Saul Tigh, I've been married to you for over 2,000 years. When do you not need a drink?"
"Now just one gods forsaken minute," he protested with a smile. "Are we still married? As I recall we've both been killed a couple of times during those 2,000 years. What about 'until death do we part'?"
Ellen gently clasped his face between her hands. "It starts right now. You just try and leave me. All I've ever wanted was you and me together. Now I've got my wish and I'm not letting go."
Saul felt a tear well up in his eye then he hugged his wife close. "Good. Neither am I."
They had 23 years. They were tough years, famines, diseases, accidents, even wars took their toll on the colonies. Humans did not rise to the challenges that this new Earth threw at them, Cylons did not have children. The last remnants of the Twelve Colonies slowly failed, but Saul and Ellen were together through it all.
Saul died peacefully in his sleep. Ellen felt his last breath go out, then let hers go too. After 2,000 years together she simply did not want to go on apart. In the morning, when they didn't join their small community of surviving Cylons for breakfast, someone came looking and found them spooned together.
That's how they were buried.
***
They walked away from the angels, hand in hand, the human and the 'machine.' Gaius Baltar gestured, "Over there between those two peaks, I saw some terrain that looked good for cultivation."
"Cultivation?" Caprica Six asked in surprise.
"Yes." He paused as a sudden realization hit him, she was going with him. Everything he had done, everything he had seen, the billions of lives lost by his actions, it was all for this. It was all for love. "You know I know about farming," he said. His father had been a farmer. Despite everything, Gaius had been redeemed for his trespasses and gained the one thing he had always yearned for in the deepest recesses of his soul, an unconditional love. The combination of relief, guilt, gratitude, sorrow, and joy was too much to bear. Tears sprung to his eyes and he covered his face as he sobbed.
"Hey. I know." Caprica tenderly touched his face and kissed him. "I know you do." As she soothed his hurt she knew that for the first time in her life, she was truly, deeply, loved and felt the same in return. It was as if this was what life was for and she knew that onlt death would part them. Arm in arm, they headed towards the two peaks and a life of less eventful cultivation.
Baltar and Caprica's farm became the way station for trade and communication between the communities of colonists. For years, people brought samples of fruits and vegetables there for trade and study. Even as the visits became rarer and rarer then finally stopped altogether, Gaius cultivated his farm and garden with Caprica by his side.
One day, Caprica called out for him to come and eat. When Baltar didn't come, she went looking for him, as his hearing wasn't what it used to be. She found him collapsed between two rows of his favorite flowers, victim of an apparent heart attack. He died the same way his father had, working in his garden. She buried him where he fell, then turned her back on the farm where they had happily lived for over 30 years and walked away.
It took her almost a year to find the last colony where the surviving Cylons had gathered. She lived amongst her dwindling numbers of brothers and sisters for another 25 years until the day came that she stood alone in the small encampment, wondering what was going to happen to her.
Dusk fell and she heard the cough and rumble of a large toothed feline predator prowling nearby. "So that's how it's to be," she said to herself.
"Unfortunately, yes."
Caprica spun around in surprise at the voice. "Gaius?"
He stepped forward where she could see him, it was a young and vibrant Gaius, hair slicked back, wearing a striped suit. The last time she saw this Gaius had been over fifty years ago. "You're the last. I thought you should have some company at the end."
"The last."
He nodded. "The last Cylon, the last Colonial, the last survivor."
There were so many questions to ask, but she knew there wasn't time, she could hear the foot pads of the large cat entering the camp. But there was something she had to know. "Did we fulfill God's plan?" she whispered in soft fear, trembling.
The Gaius angel smiled gently. "Yes, you did everything asked of you."
"Thank you."
"No. Thank you. Look at me now, it won't last long."
Behind Caprica, the saber toothed cat crouched down to pounce.
***
Hera skipped along between her parents, hand-in-hand, happy and content.
"Don't you listen to Mommy, Daddy is a great hunter."
"No, Mommy's going to teach you how to hunt."
"No, no, no, no...." Helo laughed.
"Real hunting."
"Nooooo." he laughed more.
"Yeah," Sharon smiled back at her husband. "And I'm going to teach you how to... build a house... and plant crops."
"Okay," Helo cut in with a smile before his wife could get too extravagant with her promises. "Maybe Mommy will teach you that, but Daddy's going to teach you how to hunt."
Hera saw a butterfly flitter off and ran to chase it. Karl Agathon took Sharon's hand, reveling in the happiness of having his daughter and wife safe and by his side. "Hera...." Sharon called out.
"She's fine," he said. And to prove it, Hera ran back for a quick lift and hug, then was down and happily running again. Karl and pulled his wife into an embrace. "Okay, you can teach her whatever you like, but I get to teach her brother to hunt."
Sharon smiled coyly, "Brother?"
He stroked her hair, tucking a strand back behind her ear with a grin. "Yeah, brother. I figure there's no reason she can't have a sibling. Then we can both teach them all sorts of things. Right?" Her answer was a kiss.
Their group hiked north from the staging area, headed for a long river that the orbital survey maps showed flowing north into an inland sea between two continents. The river rolled through a vast territory of verdant hills and forests, an area filled with fertile land and massive herds of game and life that would exist for another 140,000 years before becoming a sterile desert.
As they hiked along, the game would scatter before them, but they used modern weapons to take the food they needed. No one thought it unusual that the local predators also fled in fear whenever the humanoids approached. No one wondered why they fled until the first crude shaft of wood with a stone tip arced in from the bush and speared Helo through the chest. He was dead before he hit the ground. Sharon had just enough time to cry his name before a rock slammed into her head and she fell beside him.
The attack was brief, but brutal. The local tribe of humans would not tolerate a full scale invasion, and that is exactly how they perceived a large group of people marching into their territory. The Colonials fought back, but never stood much of a chance, they couldn't see their attackers camouflage in the vegetation. Like in other tribal conflicts, every adult man and woman was killed. Children were spared because they could be raised as members of the new tribe, adults never adjusted. Hera was captured and dragged away screaming.
She never forgot her childhood in the stars, or her mother and father. Even as a child she was more intelligent than the members of her new tribe. The first time the son of the chief saw her curly hair, he was totally captivated. They had six children, each of remarkable intelligence and physical ability, able to adapt to their environment far better than their fully human tribe members ever could. Most importantly, her children had the incredible ability to picture themselves in new situations, new places. They could imagine new things like humans simply couldn't, and they passed this trait on to their children. When Hera died at the relatively young age of 39 surrounded by her amazingly capable children and grandchildren, she was older than any native human had ever reached. Her family buried her reverently, her descendents repeating her stories of brothers and sisters among the stars for generations as they spread across the world.
***
She stood there, arms crossed across her chest, a breeze blowing strands of her long blonde hair across her face. "And now that you're here?"
Lee Adama's eyes filled with boyish delight and he broke out in an excited grin. "I want to explore! I want to climb the mountains." He turned to take in the vista of rolling hills of green before distant snow capped peaks. The desire to run and see practically burst from him. "I want cross the oceans. I want to...." He paused to catch his breath, the joy at the thought of exploring the unknown seemed to push the air from his lungs. "Gods, I can't believe I'm saying this, it sounds exhausting. I must be cra-" He turned back to see what she thought of his words, but she was gone.
Gone. He looked one way, then another. There weren't even any tracks in the grass. She was just... gone. And he knew. Whatever had returned her from death had called her back. She had been given enough time to save everyone by bringing them here, a moment to say goodbye was a precious bonus. He thought back over all the times in his life with her.
"Goodbye Kara. You won't be forgotten."
He walked back to the camp where groups of survivors were mustering their supplies before heading out to make their destinies. He thought about joining one, but knew that he would never be able to stop looking at the horizon and wondering what was over it. Over the next month, the base camp emptied, the supplies were distributed, the people dispersed. Finally, it was time for the last Raptor of supplies to depart.
Romo Lampkin, lawyer extraordinaire and one-time President of the Twelve Colonies, was on that last Raptor. "I don't suppose I could talk you into coming with us?" he asked Lee.
"Yes and no," Lee replied.
"Hmmph! A lawyer's answer if I ever heard one. Care to elaborate?"
"I'll come with you if I can have the Raptor after you're done with it."
Romo raised an eyebrow. "As I recall, it was your plan to destroy them all when we're done settling the new colonies."
"I will, just not right away. We'll need some way to communicate between the colonies until they're all established."
"And?" Romo asked, knowing that there was more.
Lee let the moment draw out, hoping that Lampkin would let it go, but really knew that he wouldn't. "And... to truly explore this world I'll need a ship. Oceans are hard to swim across. There will be no radio calls, no DRADIS, no FTL jumps, just atmospheric hops across the waters."
Lampkin thought about it, "All you'll do is carry messages and supplies between groups, right?" he asked. Lee nodded and Romo took a deep breath. "What's the point of being a President if you can't exercise your powers one last time?" He gestured towards the open hatch. "Climb aboard, it's yours."
Lee sat in the pilot's seat and instantly became Apollo again, but a slightly different Apollo, with a different mission calling to him. He spent the next three months with the community Romo set up on the shore of a peninsula shaped like a foot on the continent to the north. Then he took off.
Apollo hopped from community to community around the world, visiting each of the new colonies in turn, acting as a sort of courier between them and exploring the surrounding lands. His aerial viewpoint gave him the perfect seat to watch the last vestiges of Colonial humanity and civilization disappear. Some colonies vanished due to famines, others to wars. He flew over one location and saw nothing but bodies scattered around. The entire colony had contracted some sickness and perished. He didn't land.
The flights grew more infrequent as his fuel supply dwindled, parts of the Raptor began to break, and he began to run out of colonies to visit. Finally, thirteen years after he left Lampkin, there was only enough fuel for one more flight. He set the autopilot to take it out over the ocean, then stepped out to watch it fly away forever. From then on he walked everywhere.
He crossed rivers, climbed mountains, stood before the howling winds of storms, baked in the heat of the Sun, shivered in the cold of snow. Every day was a joy of discovery. The years blurred into one another as he explored the planet he had come to love so much. As the decades passed, he found himself looking up at the night sky more and more often, remembering. His life had been a wonderful and amazing journey, but eventually, every journey comes to its end. His pace had slowed by the pains and aches of age, often he escaped dangerous predators by the purest strokes of luck he could not explain. Still, he kept going. Sometimes it felt like he was being guided from one incredible sight to the next.
It had been years since he'd encountered another human when he saw a glint of reflected sunlight in the distance. As near as he could tell, every single new colony had failed, only the natives were left. There was no one on Earth who could make something that reflected, but even his aged eyesight couldn't miss something like that. What was it? he wondered. He headed towards the sparkle on a ridgeline, slowly hiking his tired, aching body up the hillside, stopping frequently due to bouts of coughing. When he stepped around some boulders and got a clear view of what was sparkling, he stopped in his tracks in utter amazement, the pains and ills of his old body forgotten for the moment.
It was a Raptor.
"Not possible," he muttered through his gray beard. "All destroyed." Yet there it was. He walked around it in disbelief. Only after actually touching it did he finally accept it was real. Not only was it there, but it even still had power, super conducting batteries never lose their charge. Vaguely, he recalled how to open the hatch. The inside was perfectly preserved. No one had been in there in decades. From the cockpit he could see what looked like what was left of a cabin on top of the hill above the Raptor.
He never went into the cabin. He saw the pile of stones shaped like a cairn and knew immediately who had lived here. There was no sign of his father's body, but there wouldn't be after so many years. However, he did find a golden insignia on the ground by Laura's grave. It was the flight pin of a Viper pilot.
The pin sat in his open palm for a long time before he clipped it to the animal pelt he wore now days. Old memories bubbled up, procedures to follow, buttons to push. Raptors were built to withstand the rigors of deep space, a couple of decades of weathering on a hillside couldn't hurt it.
Apollo sat in the pilot seat and fired up the engines. "No one will mind now Romo." After a wobbly lift-off, he pointed the Raptor upwards and headed for space. The view from orbit brought tears to his eyes. He sat and watched the beautiful blue globe rotate below, but found that he kept looking outwards to the black of space. Something was calling him. When he saw the Moon rise from behind the planet, Apollo pointed the Raptor at it and fired the engines. Six hours later, he swooped down low over the gray surface, reveling in the joy of exploring again, however briefly.
He circled the Moon several times before choosing a crater near the south pole to set down in. Here, he thought, protected from the Sun. It'll be preserved for millennia. They'll find it eventually.
The engines whined down for the last time and Apollo had another coughing fit, then looked up at the bright stars above. He didn't know when he closed his eyes.
"Lee. Wake up."
"Hmmm?"
"Come on. Wake up."
His eyes fluttered open for a moment. "Sss... Starbuck?"
The voice smiled. "Yeah, Lee. It's me. Come on, it's time to go. We'll leave the Raptor here."
"Okay," he whispered.
END