WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT
CHAPTER 12
LOST PLANET OF THE GODS
"Brother, we are running out of baseships!"
John Cavil cast an irritated look in his younger sibling's direction. There were times, and this was one of them, when the First Born was as disappointed with the Ones as he was with most of the other models. The Ones had an irritating habit of drawing attention to the obvious, but when pressed, they rarely had any worthwhile ideas.
The two Ones were on a resurrection ship high above Caprica. John didn't like putting a resurrection ship in planetary orbit- its lack of missile batteries made it too inviting a target- but Natalie had forced his hand. She knew all of their vulnerabilities, and she also knew the relative location of all the resurrection technology. John had already taken the precaution of moving the Colony, and he was confident that the Six couldn't find it, but he was acutely aware of the fact that Natalie's hybrid would be able to track both the resurrection ships and the hub. He had ordered his brothers to move the resurrection hub, and to keep on moving it, and he had issued new transponder codes to try and isolate the bitch, but they were exposed and he knew it. He wouldn't put it past the Six to return to Caprica yet again, hence his decision to park the resurrection ship in orbit alongside the one remaining baseship in the Cyrannus system. And the baseship, he readily acknowledged, was not in prime condition. It needed more time to recover from the blows that Natalie had delivered on her previous visit to the system.
John Cavil was in the most highly restricted chamber on the resurrection ship. There were only five tubs in the room, and he was standing in front of one of them. He resumed staring down at the husk of Samuel T. Anders. He had other problems to think about, and he didn't like being interrupted.
"Brother, do you have anything to contribute that I don't already know?" John had decided to let his irritation show.
"We should think about activating the old first war basestars. They're still serviceable."
"Brother, I have thought about it. But we would have to pull all of the remaining 0005's off the Colony to launch even one basestar at full strength, and since the basestars don't have hybrids, we would have to reactivate one of the IL series to command it. I'm not willing to do that. Lucifer and his pals always gave me the creeps, and I'm convinced that they have an agenda of their own that doesn't include us. No, we'll just have to find another solution." John continued to stare down at Anders' shell.
"We're too spread out," his sibling commented. "We should consolidate our forces. It's time, brother, for us to leave this place."
"Yes," the First Born agreed. "The others are becoming restive. I'm hearing more and more talk about Earth … how it should become our new home. I don't know how that fable began to circulate, but it's resonating, and we can use it to our advantage. We'll tell the others that we agree with them, and use it as an excuse to evacuate the Colonies. There are also more and more doubts being voiced about the Plan … about the whole war. We'll use that as well. We'll tell the others that we are also having second thoughts about the whole project, and suggest that we give the humans a reprieve. We'll continue to trail the fleet, but we won't harry them—not until we get our three new baseships on line. Eight months, brother … we need to be patient for eight months, and then we can start again."
John Cavil didn't like having to revise his plans for the extermination of humanity, but events had forced his hand. Human resourcefulness, the incompetence of his own kind, and sheer bad luck had combined to erode the Cylons' once overwhelming tactical advantage. Now a new crisis was looming on the horizon: John was staring down at the latest hammer blow to Cylon fortunes.
"Papa Sam," John muttered. "What should I do about you?"
The younger Cavil looked at his older sibling; the question was forming on his lips, but John anticipated it.
"In the last two days, two of the breeding facilities have been overrun and shut down." John nodded in Sam's direction. "It was papa Sam and his merry little band of resistance fighters. But eleven centurions and five overseers at these farms have also fallen off the grid. There are no remains … they've just … disappeared."
"Disappeared?" John didn't have to raise his head; he could hear the alarm in his sibling's voice.
"Disappeared," John concurred. "And I can think of only one possible explanation. The centurions have figured out who Sam really is. But the real question is whether papa has also figured it out."
"Why take a chance? We should take them out … both the humans he seems to love so much and the centurions. Then we can box papa, or reprogram him with fresh memories and return him to the surface. But we need to act quickly. We need to nip this in the bud."
"Agreed," John replied. "Brother, organize two Heavy Raiders and ten full squads of centurions. We'll hit them at first light tomorrow. You and I will take care of this personally."
"What about our brothers and sisters?"
"We box them," the First Born grimly responded. "We take no chances. We slaughter the humans, and we box our own. We track down everyone who has been in contact with papa, and we get rid of them. Cylon, human … it doesn't matter. Papa's identity must remain a secret."
. . .
Caprica Six pounded on the door, but she did not know if the Eight could hear her. Rock music was drifting out into the corridor; Caprica had absolutely no idea what Sharon was playing- Gaius' taste in music had led her in other directions- but the volume was cranked up very loud. She decided to pound some more.
The door flew open without warning, and suddenly Sharon Valerii was standing in front of her. Anger and bitterness were pouring off of her in waves.
"Are you here to kick me out?" There was no mistaking the challenge in Sharon's voice.
"No," Caprica quietly answered.
"Well, if you're here to help me with my adjustment problems, I can save you some time." Caprica followed Sharon down a spiral staircase into her living room. Boomer reached up to an overhead bar and began to do chin-ups while Caprica wandered around, examining the photographs and mementoes of a non-existent life.
"This is home, and I'm not leaving," Sharon said as she abruptly killed the music. Her tone, like her body language, radiated hostility.
"I lived on Caprica for two years, so I know what you mean." Caprica kept her voice low and non-threatening. "The only difference is I knew what I was. Oh, I pretended to be human, but I knew."
"If you knew what you were and you lived on Caprica for that long," Sharon viciously replied, "you know what that makes you? A really good liar."
Boomer retreated to the bedroom to change her clothes; Caprica spotted a pair of miniature elephants, and picked them up to take a closer look.
"These are beautiful," she said when Sharon reentered the room. "Ithacan?"
"Hand-carved. My mother gave them to me the day I left for the fleet Academy."
Caprica picked up a framed photograph of Sharon's family, and held it out to the Eight.
"Is this her?"
"It's supposed to be," Sharon countered as she reached out to take the picture. "Of course, none of it is real. It was all fabricated for my mission. My whole gods damned life is a lie," she screamed, as she hurled the photo across the room. The glass shattered against the wall, the razor sharp fragments flying back into the room to settle dangerously on the floor.
"Following God's path is never easy," Caprica said soothingly.
"Do you think I give a frak about your God?"
"God loves you, Sharon."
"This is love," Sharon yelled as she picked up another picture, one taken on the Galactica. "These people love me, and I love them. I didn't pretend to feel something so that I could screw people over. I loved them."
"Then why did you commit suicide?" Caprica was genuinely curious. "Why did you do the one thing that would most hurt the people who loved you?"
"Isn't it obvious? It was the only way out of this stupid, frakked up war! The Cylons programmed me to sabotage Galactica, and I did it—I blew up their water supply. The gods only know what else I would have done if Shelly and Lydia … if your sisters … hadn't given me up. Then Commander Adama, the only real father I've ever had … a man I love … sent me out to nuke a baseship. And I did that too … I murdered hundreds of copies of myself. It was a test, and I proved my loyalty … proved that I could be counted upon to slaughter my own flesh and blood on demand. Only I discovered that I didn't want to kill Cylons any more than I did humans. I just wanted the war to be over, but it isn't going to end. It's going to go on and on, the two sides hating each other, the hate destroying everything it touches. No one's going to win, you know. This war is going to destroy us all."
"Then we need to find a different path," Caprica suggested. "Genocide, murder, vengeance—they're all sins in the eyes of God. That's what you and I know. That's what so many of the others don't want to hear."
"Because then they'd have to rethink what they're doing," Sharon bitterly added. "Then they'd have to consider that maybe the slaughter of mankind was a mistake!"
Boomer looked suspiciously at Caprica. "Sixes are so hard core, such gung-ho warriors. Where is this coming from?"
"I'm different," Caprica confessed. "I'm more like you. Before the attacks I met two men, and the experience changed me. I betrayed one of them, but John forgave me … made me see that the conflict between man and machine will never be over until we learn how to live together in peace. And he got me to believe that it's possible. John took the burden of being cylon off my shoulders. He helped me to understand that I'm also a woman, with real emotions that go far beyond the parameters of my programming. I evolved here, Sharon, just as you evolved on Galactica. Neither of us is what we once were. Like you, I discovered love. I fell in love, and I think that he loved me too … in his own way."
"So who was he … this man you loved?"
"Maybe you've heard of him? Gaius Baltar."
"Doctor Baltar?"
'Yeah."
Sharon inhaled sharply. "Then it's true after all," she said; "he gave you access to the Colonial defense grid. He was the one who betrayed us! Does he still work for the Cylons?"
"What?"
"You know … on Galactica. Is he still doing their dirty work?"
"Gaius … he's alive?"
"He's the Vice-President of the Colonies. You didn't know? The frakking traitor."
"No! Gaius isn't a traitor! He had no idea … not until bare minutes before the attacks. We collaborated on the algorithms for the CNP project, and he rewarded me with a tour of the defense mainframe, but right up to the end he thought that all he was doing was helping my company gain a competitive advantage in the bidding for defense contracts. I didn't even want to plant the virus, but John insisted. It was funny. I had gone over to the humans and I was eager to do everything I could to disrupt Cavil's plan, but they kept telling me that humanity couldn't survive unless Cavil believed that he had taken the Colonies completely by surprise. John ordered me to stay on script, and events proved him right. Knowing that the virus was in play made the Ones careless; when the Colonial fleet punched back, they never saw it coming. The Cylons lost almost two hundred baseships during the attacks … and baseships don't resurrect. That's the key to everything, Sharon. The Colonies died but humanity survives … and it's going to go on surviving because the Cavils don't have the resources to finish the job. So, this is the best chance we'll ever have to end the cycles of violence, especially now that Natalie's baseship has switched sides. Adama doesn't have the luxury of turning her away, which means that humans and Cylons will start working together … fighting together … dying together. It will take time, but the hatred will recede. We'll reach Earth together, and we'll build a new society … together."
"Six, what are you talking about? Who are you working for? And what the frak does Earth have to do with any of this?"
"I guess that I'm working for all of us, Sharon, humans and Cylons alike." Caprica sighed. "Because you're right … it's a stupid, frakked up war, and there aren't going to be any winners, just losers. I'm trying to change things for the better. Our people need a new beginning, and for some reason the idea has begun to catch on that Earth is it. But they're wrong, Sharon. What we need is not a new place but a new mindset. We need to find a new way to live in God's love … we need to let go of the hate and reject the lies. Someone has to stand up and say that genocide is an unforgivable sin in God's eyes; someone has to make our people understand that a loving and forgiving God would never abandon mankind. Can you think of anyone who would be better qualified than the first two Cylons to experience love with humans? Who else can make the case that, for all its flaws, mankind still has much to offer? Will you join me? Are you ready to end this war?"
"I'm with you!" Sharon Valerii's eyes blazed with hope. Maybe, she thought, we can do this. Maybe I'll see the Chief again. Maybe we can have the life that I've always wanted, but this time without all the lies. Maybe. . . .
Natasi was pleased. Boomer had fallen quickly into line, and the one-time Raptor pilot would get a lot of her sisters to follow suit. The Eights had a massive inferiority complex, and the open talk about boxing Sharon Valerii had not gone down well in their ranks. Natasi decided that it was time to move on … time to set her sights on the Twos. Her brothers were a curious bunch. They had collectively come to the conclusion that Kara Thrace had a special destiny, and that it was their job to help her realize it. They didn't seem to know why Starbuck had a special destiny, and they had no idea of her true identity, but Natasi couldn't have cared less. Every time the Cylons attacked the fleet, they put Starbuck's life at risk. So, Natasi decided to encourage the Twos in their obsession, and use it to alienate them from the Ones. The Twos, the Sixes, the Eights … she would need one more model to fall into line before she could wrest control of the collective away from the Cavils. It would have to be the Threes, but the leverage eluded her. Perhaps I can take advantage of their religious fanaticism. But it would certainly help if the humans began converting. Where are The Soldiers of the One when we need them?
. . .
"Is she kidding with this?" Bill Adama was holding a clipboard in his hand, and he was looking down at Laura Roslin's latest public statement. He had long harbored doubts about the schoolteacher's state of mind, but this erased them. Laura Roslin had gone off the deep end.
"I know it's hard to believe," Saul Tigh observed, "but that message has cropped up all over the fleet."
"It's religious crap. 'It seems I have been chosen to help lead you to the promised land of Earth. I will not question this choice—I will simply try to play my part in the plan. Therefore, at the appointed hour, I will give the signal to the fleet. All those wishing to honor the gods and walk the paths of destiny will follow me back to Kobol. It is there that the gods' servant, Kara Thrace, will find the way with the arrow of Apollo'."
Adama hurled the clipboard across the console. He was infuriated.
"We've got five Raptors with marine fire teams standing by to board the Astral Queen," the XO added. We may not be able to get at Roslin, but we can isolate her. If Zarek doesn't jump, no one else will."
"Oh, please, no one's going to follow her. No one's going to believe this crap. No one's this stupid. And anyone that is … that wants to make a suicide run to Kobol … please, let them."
Adama turned decisively to the communications console. "Dee, see if you can locate our new Cylon ambassador. I think it's about time Commander Six and I met face to face."
Adama glanced briefly up at the DRADIS console. The icon for the Cylon baseship dominated the display, in much the same way that the ship itself had already come to play a pivotal role in the fleet's affairs. Roslin might not see reason, but perhaps the Cylons would.
. . .
"Commander, I don't know whether to congratulate you for renouncing false idols, or pity you for your lack of belief in a higher power. It must be difficult to go through life without the certainty of God's love to guide you." Natalie paused to take a sip of her tea. Sixes were not as demonstrative as Threes, but the Cylon leader was devout nonetheless. She did not understand how any human could be blind to the existence of God. The species was so flawed that it could not possibly believe itself to be the highest order of intelligence in the universe.
Adama reached for his water glass while he considered his answer. He did not wish to insult the Cylon commander, but his dealings with Roslin had tried his patience. He had no quarrel with belief—until it became the basis of public policy.
"Commander Six," he finally said, "I respect your beliefs … as I respect those of my own people. Nor do I have a problem with Laura Roslin's faith in scripture and prophecy. But political and military leaders have to draw a firm line between their private beliefs and their public pronouncements and actions. Our decisions must be rooted in law, experience and judgment, not faith. The Articles of Colonization serve as the basis for a secular form of government. It has to be this way: the politics of a diverse society cannot be faith-based without slipping into intolerance. Laura Roslin occasioned mutiny aboard this ship and thereby caused a vital military asset to be lost for no other reason than her blind faith in the prophecies of Pythia—a faith that thousands of people in this fleet do not share. She crossed the line, she endangered this fleet, and she violated the spirit if not the letter of the Articles. I had no choice but to remove her from office, and I cannot allow her to be reinstated."
"Commander," Natalie replied, "I did not come here to defend Laura Roslin's actions. They may well be as indefensible as you seem to think. But that's beside the point. I have carefully examined the Articles of Colonization, and they offer only one mechanism for the removal of a sitting president: impeachment. They make no allowance for a military coup. I'm sorry, Commander, but on the baseship we have voted to uphold the rule of law, and to be bound by it. If you wish to bring charges against President Roslin, and try the case before the Quorum, we will not get in your way. If your case is as solid as you seem to think, you should not find it hard to secure the eight votes required to remove her from office."
"That'll be the day," Adama snorted. "That collection of gutless wonders wouldn't vote to give milk to a starving baby. They're part of the problem, not the solution."
"Then we appear to be at an impasse. Commander, I stand ready to place our ship under your authority because this fleet can only have one military leader at a time. We will take your orders, and we will execute them to the best of our ability. But the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol is the constitutional head of state, and until she is removed from office by impeachment or election, the President is Laura Roslin. If impeachment is unrealistic, perhaps you should consider supporting a candidate for the presidency in the next round of elections whose views coincide more closely with your own."
"That's an interesting suggestion," Adama replied. His expression was thoughtful. "Unfortunately, the next election isn't scheduled for another six months or so, and I don't even want to think about the damage that Roslin could do in the interim. We need another solution."
"And I wish that I had one to offer you," Natalie said, "but I don't. We share Laura Roslin's conviction that prophecy is revealed truth. We also believe that the Tomb of Athena is real, and that it will yield its secrets to Kara Thrace. Our son has recalled us from the darkness, and our daughter will guide us home. We believe, Commander, and we will stake not only our own lives but the future of our entire race on our beliefs."
"Then you'll follow Roslin to Kobol?"
"No, Commander, we will take our daughter where she needs to go. It would be more accurate to say that Laura Roslin will follow us to Kobol."
"I won't try to stop you. I won't try to stop anyone who's foolish enough to follow you. Still, we have to restore the civilian government. As much as I despise the man, Doctor Baltar must assume the presidency. Natalie, it would be in everybody's best interest if you could persuade Roslin to resign. Ill health gives her the perfect out, and you can tell her that I'll let the whole matter drop if she retires gracefully. If she's inclined to refuse, please make it clear to her that a bad situation will get a whole lot worse."
. . .
Lee had decided to take it slow … real slow. He didn't want to do anything that would pop Creusa's stitches or cause her to start bleeding internally. It wasn't so much that Starbuck would have a fit if he harmed one hair on the Six's head—what went on in this chamber wasn't any of her business. It wasn't even that he wanted to make it special for Creusa, although he kept telling himself that he was determined to put her pleasure above his own. No, in his heart he knew that this was all about Lee Adama. Apollo knew his reputation … he was responsible, a straight arrow, a guy who would never let the team down. But a less kind person might reproach him for being uptight, a stick in the mud, and a prude. Gods, even with Shevon I've never done anything wild, Lee thought with a grimace. My whole life has been nothing but vanilla sex, so maybe it's time to break out of the mold … do something un-Lee like. He had decided to go for it … he had decided to do something about as far out of character as he could get. He had decided to give Creusa a bath—with his tongue.
Lee had begun by sternly ordering her to close her eyes, and to lie perfectly still. No matter what happens, he had instructed her, don't open your eyes, and don't move a muscle! The beautiful Cylon had looked at him with wide-eyed curiosity, but she had also complied, sinking deep into her pillows.
Lee had quietly stripped down to his shorts before throwing off the sheet and taking her toes into his mouth, sucking and nibbling gently on each one of them. Then he had used his tongue to trace the course of the long tendon on the sole of her foot. Creusa had flexed involuntarily, giggling helplessly. She had apologized profusely, but for his part Lee was both surprised and delighted to discover that a Cylon could be ticklish. It might, he thought, just come in handy in the future.
By the time that his wandering tongue had found her calves, the giggling had long since stopped, and now that he had travelled all the way to her inner thighs, he could sense the change in her breathing. It had become shallow and more rapid, and he could feel the muscles tensing beneath his tongue. So much, he thought, for staying absolutely still!
Lee stayed with it, slowly and patiently making small circles with his tongue, edging ever closer to her sex, gliding in and then retreating … teasing her … keeping her guessing. He could smell her now because her juices had started to flow, her body anticipating the pleasure yet to come. The odor surprised him; he had expected musk, and it was there, but even in this most intimate of places there was a hint of strawberries. Lee couldn't help himself: he began to think of melted chocolate, and of all the places he wanted to pour it … the inside of her thighs, into her cleft. He could visualize his tongue licking it up … then moving on with greater purpose, darting here and there as he swept her labia clean … penetrating her, going inside to scoop out all the sweetness. Creusa was moaning now because Lee had stopped teasing. He had reached her center, and her body was coming fully alive. Creusa could feel the heat building up along her spine, but still she kept her eyes firmly shut. The Six liked this game: her young god was proving to be so delightfully creative!
Apollo reached up to cup Creusa's perfectly formed breasts; her nipples hardened under the slightest touch of his opened palms. Hand and mouth fell into a synchronous rhythm, and Creusa felt an arc of electricity fuse breasts and vagina. Her body was on fire.
Apollo's tongue glided across taut stomach muscles; his mouth gorged upon breasts heavy with need. His fingers lightly stroked her sex, the exquisitely timed pulse of fingers and lips sending jolts of electricity coursing through her body and pounding into her brain. Her moaning grew more frequent, and more insistent: Creusa was trapped inside a whirlwind, and she sought only one form of release.
She was close, but she wanted him inside her. Her eyes flew open and her hand flew out, to guide him gently within. Apollo was tempted teasingly to scold her for her disobedience, but he found himself leaning forward to kiss her, deeply but tenderly. Their bodies became one, and still he took it slow, fearing the damage to newly healed tissue that too hard a thrust might cause. He felt her body shudder beneath him and, bare moments later, Lee began to moan, to invoke the gods, and to call out her name. His own passion finally spent, Lee rolled them over onto their sides, still inside her; he wanted to banish the universe and suspend time. It can't possibly, he thought as he gazed into the depths of those incredibly blue eyes, get any better than this. He searched his memories, consciously seeking a moment that might compare, but there was nothing there … nothing at all.
Creusa wrapped her arms around Lee's neck, and held him close. For a time they were content silently to savor the moment, but Creusa soon sensed that something was troubling him. There was a cloud behind Lee's eyes, and she feared that her young god might have already regretted going to bed with a Cylon.
"Lee? Are you okay? You suddenly seem so … sad. Do you regret …"
"Creusa, no! Don't say it … don't even think it." Lee leaned over to caress her cheek. "I'm exactly where I want to be," he said softly.
"Are you? Lee, are you sure that this is what you want?"
"Shh." He put his fingers to her lips. "Do you know, when I first saw you in that hatchway, for a moment I thought that Artemis herself had descended from Olympus to save us all. Of course," he chuckled, "getting shot kind of ruined the illusion."
"And I don't suppose these scars do much for my image either." Creusa touched the stitches that ran across the lower reaches of her chest. They would dissolve in time, but she would carry the angry red lines that they left behind for the rest of her life.
"Never be ashamed of them!" The conviction in Lee's voice startled her. "You did save us all, Creusa … you and the centurions. But I'm damned if I'm going to kiss them!"
"And yet I can see the doubt in your eyes. Talk to me, Lee. Don't be afraid to share. Whatever it is, I'd rather hear it from you than be left to imagine it for myself."
Lee struggled to collect his thoughts. He knew what was bothering him, but he found it hard to put into words.
"It's something that Natalie said on the Inchon Velle. She wanted us to think about what would have followed if humans had won the war and exterminated the centurions. She had the answer; it was as plain as day. We would have gone right back to work … created a second generation of AI, but one with safeguards in place to prevent another rebellion. And you would have been the eventual result, Creusa, you and all your sisters. You would have come pouring out of birth labs to be sex slaves … programmed machines explicitly designed to bring our sickest fantasies to life. If there's any corner of humanity's collective soul that is still unsoiled, that would have been the end of it."
Lee felt sick, but it was a sickness not of the body but of the spirit.
"Natalie was right … gods, but she had us pegged! For the first time, I had a glimpse of what humans must look like to Cylon eyes … and it's not a pretty sight. There are so many dark places inside us, so much ugliness. I could see it all, Creusa. I could see myself buying you, using you to satisfy all my needs because that way I wouldn't have to give anything of myself in return. I could see myself becoming more and more callous, more and more uncaring, using other people for my own advancement but otherwise never giving a damn about them. Human ingenuity would have robbed us of what little humanity we have left."
"I don't know that Lee Adama," Creusa protested. "How could I, when he doesn't even exist? The man I know is selfless. He climbs into his Viper every day and he goes out to fight … to protect people he doesn't even know. He risks his life for others, even when the odds seem hopelessly stacked against him. And yet, he fights without hatred in his heart, despite the fact that the enemy is another species … a race of … machines. He's open to other possibilities; he understands that today's enemy may be tomorrow's friend. What he really hates is injustice … exploitation. He'll fight to keep the Cylons in this fleet safe from abuse, to secure rights for us, and he'll go on risking his life—for humans and Cylons alike. And Lee Adama will come into my bed- a Cylon's bed- and he will make love to me, but so gently that I cannot possibly reinjure myself in the process."
Creusa leaned forward to kiss him. "I know what you were doing, Lee; I understand you far better than you realize. How can I ever thank you for caring so much? You have taught me the meaning of compassion."
"But why am I here?" Lee's voice was anguished. "Really, Creusa, why am I here? Is it because you are this incredibly beautiful, intelligent and heroic woman who takes my breath away? Or is it because, when something happens that makes me want to drive you away, I'll be able to kid myself that you're a machine and you don't have feelings … not really."
"Lee, you would never be that dishonest." Creusa's smile was genuine and heartfelt. "You enjoy tormenting yourself far too much to ever take refuge in that particular excuse. Perhaps one of us will drive the other away, but if it happens, both of us will know why. We won't kid ourselves. But it shouldn't happen. I feel this powerful sense of connection between us … I felt it the first moment I saw you. I truly, deeply believe that our being together is a part of God's plan for us both. Apollo and Creusa … can't you sense it?"
"I'm sorry, Creusa, but I don't believe in the gods, singular or plural. I don't believe in destiny—that leads to a universe far too mechanical for my liking. All I know is that I'm happy when we're together. I just don't know why, and that's what's bothering me. I need to sort out my feelings."
"No, Lee, you don't. You don't have to psychoanalyze everything. You don't have to find the answer today. You could simply choose to accept the emotional bond that holds us together, and have faith that the future will reveal the answer you seek. What we have is a gift, Lee, and it could be taken away from us at any moment. One or both of us could die on Kobol."
"Kobol? Creusa, you are not going down to the surface. Forget it."
"You're going, aren't you?"
"Of course. I really don't have any choice in the matter."
"No, Lee, you do have a choice … or rather, you would have a choice if your sense of duty wasn't quite so overwhelming. But it is … that profound sense of duty is a very large part of who you are. So, you'll risk your life for us … again … but you will not risk it alone. Those days are over. I'm cylon, Lee, and I heal quickly. I'll be fine. We'll do this together."
Lee Adama's heart was a stormy sea. A small part of him acknowledged that Creusa was right, and in that place he could hear a tiny voice chiding him for refusing to accept his feelings for what they were. But the rest of him was fighting back. The part that was terrified by the prospect of commitment was trying to drown that tiny voice in the deep, dark waters of self-pity and rampant insecurity. Lee could only seek temporary shelter from the storm.
"Okay … we'll go find Earth together."
. . .
"How long till we jump?" Now that she had cast the die, Laura Roslin was anxious to get on with it.
"Two minutes," Leoben answered.
"Have any other ships declared themselves for us?"
"Just the Astral Queen." D'Anna Biers could not keep the disappointment out of her voice.
"Surprise, surprise," Lee commented under his breath.
Creusa smiled, and reached out to take his hand. "Have faith, Lee. God really does have a plan for us all. We will not make this voyage alone."
Roslin looked across the control room. "Does the hybrid have the coordinates?"
The Six at the secondary navigation console looked up and nodded.
"Natalie," Laura said, "it's time. Send the signal and jump."
D'Anna dipped her hand into the stream, and frowned in concentration. A moment later, a signal flare streaked into space; every captain in the fleet was watching as night turned temporarily into day.
. . .
"Sir," Gaeta reported, "the baseship has just jumped away. Likewise the Astral Queen."
"Thank you, Mister Gaeta," Adama replied. He turned to Saul. "Now we'll see how many follow."
"To sit around and wait while Starbuck wanders around with that stupid arrow?" The XO's voice was filled with contempt. "Two … three at the most."
. . .
"Just look at this place," Sam said. He slowly turned in a circle, his arms stretched wide. "Boys and girls, I think we've hit the mother lode!"
The supply depot was vast. A single, nondescript rectangular building, it was filled from floor to ceiling with bulky crates—and the ceiling was far above their heads.
Anders clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Okay, listen up, people. There's no way we can move all of this stuff back to our camp, so we're gonna concentrate on locating ammo, fuel, food and medicine. Hilliard, see if you can find an office. It's probably near a door someplace. Without an inventory sheet of some kind, we'll be in here for weeks! The rest of you, spread out, but don't touch anything until the centurions have checked it for tracers. If you find a fork lift, report in."
It had taken the resistance fighters more than a day to work their way around Delphi and reach their target, but Sam had already concluded that the payout more than justified the risks his people had run. He had brought forty humans and all eleven centurions along for the ride, and they had already stripped three pharmacies clean. Jean Barolay was currently leading a detachment through a rural hospital mere minutes away; if the pharmaceuticals were in a safe, the centurion he had assigned her would make short work of it. The centurions, Sam decided, were worth their weight in gold.
"I've found it!" Sam heard Karl Hilliard's triumphant cry echoing from somewhere deeper inside the cavernous facility.
Right, Sam thought. It's time to go shopping. . . .
"Hey, T. … have a look at this." Sam was inside the tiny cubicle that served as the supply depot's office. He was poring over page after page of computer print-out; they had hit the mother lode, all right, but it was going to take time to figure out what was where.
Anders looked up, and frowned. Karl was examining a shipping manifest, and something clearly puzzled him. "What's wrong?"
"It's not so much wrong as weird," Hilliard replied. "T., if I'm reading this right, sixty days before the attacks the only thing being stored in this place was cobwebs. Everything that we're looking at … it was brought in right before the end. And look at this. The food … the medicine … they're underground. There's a basement level to this place that we haven't even found yet … some kind of hardened bunker. T., maybe I'm just paranoid or something, but I'd swear someone was preparing for a nuclear holocaust."
Sam laughed. "Of course they were. That's what the military does … or did. They've got a plan for every contingency, and a contingency for every plan!"
"But that's just the thing," Hilliard countered. "Sam, wouldn't a supply officer sign off with his name, rank, serial number, and unit ID?"
"Yeah, sure … it never varies."
"Well, the only thing I've got here is a name … Marcus Greene. There's no rank … no nothing. Sam, whatever this place is, I don't think it's military. I don't think it's military at all. Have the toasters found tracers, sensors … anything?"
"No," Anders admitted. "It's like this place isn't even on the grid."
. . .
"How many?"
Felix Gaeta continued to study the DRADIS display. He wanted to be sure.
"Twenty four ships, sir." Gaeta's tone and expression were both studiously neutral.
"Gods, Bill … that's almost a third of the fleet. Twenty fours ships chose the baseship over us. How in the name of the gods did this happen?"
"Why are you surprised, Colonel?" Shelly Godfrey didn't think there was any mystery here at all. "Laura Roslin is appealing to people's hopes while you cater to their fears. You should consider yourself lucky that you only lost twenty four."
. . .
Natalie Faust removed her hand from the stream, and looked at Laura Roslin. "Madame President, the fleet has achieved a stable orbit. We're over Kobol's northern hemisphere; in fact, we're directly above the City of the Gods."
"Kobol," Laura breathed. "Elosha, we've come home. The planet of the gods, the birthplace of mankind … Kobol is the birthplace of us all."
"That's true, Laura," the priestess replied, "but it's also a graveyard. The scriptures tell us that any return to Kobol carries with it a cost … in blood. Some of us will die down there."
