THE LOST YEARS
by Soledad
Disclaimer: see Introduction.
Rating: PG, for this chapter – just to be on the safe side.
Author's notes:
To answer Wolfman' question, concerning Dreadnought: According to the "Star Fleet Technical Manual" by Franz Joseph, where I take most of my ship classifications and names from, Federation-class dreadnoughts were a whole new ships class on their own. These ships were authorized by Starfleet appropriation of Stardate 6066. The "Star Fleet Technical Manual" names twenty such ships, numbered from NCC-2100 to NCC-2120.
According to the particulars given in the Manual (very detailed one), these ships were almost twice the size of a Constitution-class heavy cruiser, had three warp nacelles and were generally designed as warships, first and foremost. And while the Manual is a semi-canonical source at best, it's still a good basis for orientation.
The RNA language course is an idea from Diane Duane's "Spock's World". The scene in the observations dome of the Galactica follows the one from the episode "The Hand of God".
In the Galactica's sickbay, the original name of which could be vaguely translated into Standard as Life Center, Dr. McCoy checked Colonel Tigh with his medical tricorder thoroughly. Adama's aide looked miserable, his normally dark face ash grey, his cheeks hollow, his eyes seeming even larger from the rings around them and he apparently didn't feel any better than he looked.
The decision that the officers who took part in the information exchange program should be enabled to learn each other's most common language had been made right at the beginning, during the first meeting between the parties involved. Consequently, Dr. McCoy adopted a procedure first developed by Vulcans, which had become rather popular on the main Federation worlds during the recent decade. It was a highly efficient method… with a few unfortunate side effects, like sickness, killer headaches and the likes.
"As expected, no unusual reactions," the chief medical officer of the Enterprise declared, shutting down his tricorder. "As unpleasant as the side effects of an RNA language course might be, they are over quickly enough."
"And in exchange, the messenger-RNA provides complete and fully conscious knowledge," Uhura, not looking much better than Tigh, added. "One becomes fluent in the language of choice at once and has the ability of using subtle expressions in order to reach greater efficiency. Even word games are contained in the repertoire."
"What's even more, there's no need to fear a complete communications collapse should the universal translator break down or for some reason lack the necessary programming," the doctor continued optimistically.
"Yes, well, that doesn't mind that we could neglect learning altogether," Uhura remarked, "as the effect of the course would lessen in time.
Tigh glared at them like a wounded predator.
"You mean the whole torture was for nothing?" the bewildered question escaped him. Uhura laughed.
"No, that's not what I mean. All you'll need is to keep your knowledge alive. That's what reading, holovids or conversation are for."
"Besides," in your case the side effects were relatively mild," McCoy added, lacking any compassion. "Most people are a lot worse after such a course. Just take a look at Captain Boomer or that poor Rigel!"
"What do you mean could be the reason for that, doctor?" Uhura asked. McCoy shrugged.
"I have no idea. Usually, the RNA-structure only shows this grade of similarity by members of the same tribe of any given race. Colonel Tigh's ancestors must have somehow been related to those of your tribe, Nyota. Though it beats me how they could have made contact with ancient African peoples from prehistoric times, since there are no records about it from later."
"The Visitors!" Uhura murmured, in a voice too low for either man to hear.
McCoy pressed the hypo to Tigh's arm, and it pumped into the Colonel's circulatory system a mild medication against nausea with a quiet hiss.
"So, Colonel. This will ease the worst symptoms, and in a few hours you will feel a lot better. You'll be back on your feet soon... by the time of the great reception you'll have forgotten that you ever felt ill."
"Well, I certainly hope so," Tigh grumbled. "Commander Adama is going to need me when the Quorum of Twelve overfloods the entire Rising Star."
"You don't seem to have a very high opinion about your own government," McCoy remarked.
"My position doesn't allow me to give you an honest answer, doctor," Tigh replied slowly. "I can't risk to be removed from Commander Adama's side. He needs me in my current position – he needs the support I can give him."
"Certain things seem to be the same across the whole universe," McCoy commented sourly. "I only need to think of our admiralty..."
"Don't be so mean, Leonard," Uhura warned him with mock sternness. "Instead of the admiralty you should think of your medical logs. If I'm not mistaken, you are lagging behind with their updates... as usual."
"Should that be a gentle hint, you have succeeded, Mistress Uhura, the doctor laughed. "I'm leaving you alone with the Colonel… willingly."
He jumped to the side, laughing, to avoid to be hit by the pillow Uhura had thrown at him and slipped through the door quickly. Tigh chuckled quietly and risked sitting up on the bed. It worked better than he had expected.
"The doctor has a sharp tongue, but he understands his job well," he said. "I might be able to get up now, I think."
"Don't overestimate your strength," Uhura warned, laying a hand on the bare chest of the man and pushed him back onto his pillow. "This is your very first RNA language course; our genes may be compatible, but there'll always remain certain risks. Be a good officer and stay in bed for another three hours. I'll tell you when you are allowed to get up."
"But I do feel good," Tigh took Uhura's hand and tilted his head on the pillow with an innocent expression that nobody would buy. "I feel wonderful, in fact. So, maybe you should share my company, if you want to keep me resting."
"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Uhura needed all her discipline to be able to resist that damn cuteness of his; this was neither the right time, nor the right place. "But at least one of us needs to behave like a mature adult. Let me go, Colonel. Otherwise, I might become unfriendly."
"Very well," Tigh replied with a slightly exaggerated sigh. "Under the condition that you promise to come with me to the great reception. I want to bask in the radiance of your beauty and watch other men pale with envy."
Uhura laughed. "Is this what you tell every woman when you want a date with them?"
"Not really," Tigh shrugged. "You see, the last time I've gone out with a woman was before the birth of our fourth child, back on Libra." He smiled fondly. "My wife was less than a week away from giving birth, and she wanted a romantic evening before 'retreating into the world of dirty diapers', as she put it."
"She sounds like a delightful woman," Uhura said quietly.
"She was that, and many other things, all of them pleasant," Tigh agreed. "I'll never understand how she could put up with bearing the burden alone… raising the children, running the house, keeping the family contacts, all that beside her own work… and waiting for me to get home, once in a yahren, for a few days of furlong. Sometimes I think our women were a lot more brave than we were…"
"Where did she work?" Uhura asked.
"Oh, she worked for the regional government; not a spectacular job, but important nevertheless. And she could work from home, most of the time anyway. With me off-planet most of the time, someone had to be home. Our family, even though we weren't wealthy, had considerable influence on Libra – we were one of the so-called Old Families, descendants of the oligarchy that used to rule the planet in the distant past. In my case it wasn't even enough to secure me a seat in the Planetary Council, but we still had a lot of local influence, and that meant social duties."
"Sounds familiar," Uhura murmured. "Sounds intriguing, in fact. I must learn more about this… later. Right now, I really have to go. I'm sorry."
"I understand," Tigh let go of her hand, albeit reluctantly. "Will you come back later?"
"I don't know," Uhura replied; I doubt I'd risk it, she added mentally. Putting her inner balance at risk might not be a good idea. She had too much to do right now. They both had.
At the same time, aboard the Yahalon, one of the rather battered ships of the colonial fleet, the leaders of the Libran refugees had their meeting. Their Elder, Sire Ikimi, was the second-oldest person in the entire fleet (after Adama). He was the head of one of the eight Libran tribes – although not that of the most numerous one – and he used to play in important role in the planetary government.
Aside from him only the former planetary governor, Sire Ashlan, survived the Cylon invasion from all the tribal leaders. The two of them participated on the supposed peace conference… as observers. Now it wasn't important anymore whose tribe had been the more numerous one. From the entire Libran folk only some nine thousand people managed to survive, including the few dozen combat pilots, technicians and bridge officers serving aboard the Galactica.
Sire Togo, who had represented Libran interests in the Quorum of Twelve for thirteen yahrens (since the retirement of Ashlan) became a broken old man after the destruction of the colonies. During the whole journey, he barely ever spoke in the Quorum, and though he hadn't mentioned it yet, everyone expected him to retire from political activities, sooner or later.
"We have a different situation at our hands right now, and can't allow Caprica and the other powerful colonies to cheat us out of our rights again," Sire Ikimi pressed. His fighting spirit had not been tempered by his high age, or by the tragic deaths of his eight children.
"May I remind you Sire Ikimi, that we are not in the position to make demands?" Togo replied helplessly. "What's more, I'm not an equal adversary for Lobe or Uri. You know that."
"Before all else, we need to decide one thing," Sire Solon, the son of Ashlan and chief accuser of the colonies interjected calmly. "Assuming that we are going to survive the next Cylon attack, do we want to remain in the bond of the Twelve Worlds?"
The three older men stared at him as if he had lost his mind. Solon, however, was determined to make them understand his point.
"Consider this," he argued, quietly but emphatically. "With the help of the Federation, we could settle on an independent colony... or, temporarily, on Earth itself. The fact that we have so very few survivors is tragic. In this particular case, however, it can also be an advantage. If we didn't have to waste our sources on trying to keep up with our sister worlds, we'd have the chance to recover and to rebuild our culture a lot faster."
"I can't see the advantage to exchange one kind of dependence for another one," Sire Togo said. Solon shook his head.
"My point exactly, Sire Togo; don't you see it? If the Federation settled our people as a unit on a colony to be built, a colony where they don't have enough settlers themselves, then we would be doing them a favour at least as big as the one they are doing us. That wouldn't be charity anymore, but a contract of mutual advantage."
"I can't see what advantage the Federation would have from nine thousand starving settlers, living in poverty, unable to handle their technology," his father said dryly. "If we ever reached Earth, they'd have to put most of our people into hospitals first."
"If we ever had an advantage to our sister worlds, it was that our people were talented, tough and learned quickly," Solon said. "Had we ever got the chance, we'd have achieved much more than we had. Whatever we might think about Gamesh' methods," he cast a quick, apologetic look at Sire Ikimi, "in one thing he was absolutely right. The others would never give us what we need to survive... unless we force them."
"And how do you intend to do that?" Sire Togo inquired bitterly. "I'm hardly in the position to corner the Quorum, and your position as Chief Accuser doesn't allow you to take sides. Had Gamesh not blown his chance with that unfortunate experiment..."
"That 'unfortunate experiment', as you call it, made it possible for the Libran ships to finally get enough food and to improve the inhuman circumstances our people were living under, at least slightly," Sire Ikimi interjected coolly. "My son has paid the price for that. And ever since his failure, nobody tried to make efforts in order to ensure our people's survival. Not even you."
"Insulting each other would lead nowhere," Sire Ashlan reminded them; then he looked at his son. "I assume you do have an idea how to do this, otherwise you wouldn't have started this conversation."
"My 'idea' doesn't contain much else than what I've already said," Solon replied. "But I do think that we still have a card up our sleeves which... whom we haven't taken into consideration so far."
Accordingly to Dr. McCoy's estimate, Tigh recovered from the after-effects of the RNS language course quickly enough. In fact, he was able to leave Life Center in the early afternoon hours. He made a quick visit on the bridge to see how well Omega – foreseen to be his successor on the long run – manages without him, then he went to seek out Uhura.
As expected, he found her in his study, deeply submerged in the ancient history files about old Libran legends.
"This is highly interesting," she said as some sort of greeting, acknowledging his presence in a distracted manner. " Have you known that these legends have a certain... similarity to our tradition, concerning the Visitors from the Skies, as we call them?"
"No, I haven't," Tigh replied with a small smile, "but after all that which we have found out already, this is hardly a surprise, is it?"
Uhura nodded. "You are right, of course. Our most ancient legends tell us that somewhen in the very far past, people descended from the stars and mingled with our own folk. They became our tutors and counsellors. They taught us the Cosmic Song that contains the basic secrets of the Universe in symbolic form, and thy taught us mental techniques to train our Psi-abilities. That's why our folk show the highest ESP-factor in the entire Africa; actually, ever since the people of Atlantis, Lemuria and Mu vanished from the Earth, we have the highest average ESP-factor of all human populations. Or at least we used to have."
"But you don't anymore? What happened?"
"The usual thing, I guess. Many of these abilities got lost in the millennia in-between, or have been misused as witchcraft and sorcery. Our tribe was the only one lucky enough to save the Temple and keep the memory of the Visitors alive. No conqueror has ever found Munguroo. Not the Arabs, nor the white men; it had been hidden in the deepest jungle, and only a few chosen ones knew about its existence. But now that the Earth has become so small, we are finally capable of protecting the Temple from intruders. That's why we can now afford leaving the Earth and looking for the Visitors among the stars."
"Our legends tell us about a thirteenth tribe that left Kobol and began a long journey among the stars," Tigh said quietly. "It's said that this tribe was a mixed group – the majority were Librans, although they didn't bear that name yet back then, but the ancestors of Leos and some other tribes went with them as well. They followed the call of very powerful and very strange beings whom they called the Providers. The Providers taught them to build huge generations' ships and promised them a blue planet on the other side of the Galaxy... as Kobol was an old world, and everyone knew that it wouldn't last forever. Then the thirteenth tribe boarded their ships, crossed the stargate and wasn't heard of anymore. Ever. I think, though, we can assume now that they have reached their destination, after all."
"Has nobody ever searched for them?" Uhura asked in surprise.
"Only once," Tigh replied. "When our ancestors left the dying world of Kobol and sought out a new home, a considerable part of the Librans refused to follow the others. They belonged to an esoteric sect, the so-called Sóhar-sect that had followed the teachings of the Providers all the time. These decided, under the lead of High Priestess Thamar, to follow the lead of the thirteenth tribe and seek out the promised blue planet as well. They built a huge sleeper ship, left the rest of the fleet… and vanished forever. We don't know if they found what they were looking for… or what has become of them."
"I never heard about a second wave of Visitors," Uhura said thoughtfully, "and if anyone, I certainly would have. There still are a handful of families among us who can track back their ancestry to the Visitors who mingled with our people. These Old Families, as we call them, have kept tradition until the current times and are highly respected because of their ancestry. My family is one of these, as you know… the most respected one, if I may say so. Which is the reason why we have been honoured with the guardianship of the Temple of Munguroo. Do you understand what this means, Colonel? We share the same blood... across uncounted millennia."
Tigh nodded, the realization too profound for him to react at once. The existence and wanderings of the thirteenth tribe belonged to the ancient legends nobody truly believed any longer... save a few orthodox Kobolians like Adama. The mere fact that Earth actually existed was shocking enough for the fugitives, but if they understood that they had really found the traces of the thirteenth tribe, it would shake their whole lives to the foundations.
"Who knows," he finally said, "maybe one day there will be another merging between our peoples. I..." he hesitated for a moment, then offered anyway, "I'd be glad to be part of it."
Uhura understood the hint, of course, but – still uncertain about her own feelings, after all they had just met a few days earlier – didn't answer right away. When the silence between them started to become uncomfortable, she turned, facing him, and laid her hands on his shoulders; they were about the same height.
"I'll... think about it," she said seriously. "All right?"
Tigh nodded, slowly, reverently, crossing the small distance between them with the same gesture, and kissed her. Uhura did not resist, resting in his arms for a short while, enjoying his closeness and the fleeting moment of peace.
A moment and no more. They weren't inexperienced youths in the throes of their passion any longer. After that moment, they let go of each other; Tigh turned away, clearing his throat a little embarrassed, while Uhura suppressed a smile.
"Did you have a particular reason to seek me out?" she asked. "At this time you are usually on the bridge."
"I'm still sentenced to light duty," Tigh had regained his inner balance already, "and I wanted to use this unexpected free time to ask you if you'd like to accompany me. I'd like to show you something that not many people have seen, even of the crew of the Galactica."
"I'm always open for new experiences," Uhura laughed. "Lead on!"
To her surprise, Tigh went to one of the unpainted metal cupboards and take out of it two small items that had a vague similarity to 20th century headphones. He put on one of them himself and handed her the other one.
"You'll need one of there."
Uhura turned it back and forth in her hand. "What are they for?"
"To protect your ears," Tigh explained. "We'll have to pass along the solium generators, and they are rather loud."
Shortly thereafter Uhura had to admit that he had been right. The noise of the generators was ear-splitting, despite the protection and the thick metal bulkheads of the engine room. At the end, however, they climbed up a narrow steel ladder, through a round opening that looked like a manhole cover, the trapdoor of which Tigh closed behind them carefully, and the noise ceased at once. They were standing in a small, circular chamber, under a huge metal dome.
Uhura took the ear-protectors off her head and looked around in awe. "Where are we anyway?"
"As high as you can get on the Galactica," Tigh replied, clipping his own ear protectors to his belt before stepping up a few steel steps to an ancient-looking console. He had an almost reverent look on his face as he started to activate the controls. "We're directly above the main thrusters. It's a great place to get away from everyone to think. Are you ready?"
"For what?" Uhura asked in surprise.
"For a moment of untainted beauty," Tigh answered quietly. "Look."
His long fingers danced across the antiqued console. There was a loud click above them, then the metal hull broke away into four sections, like the petals of some bizarre, gigantic steel flower, moving back until the dome was completely uncovered and they found themselves right among the stars, as if they would have been standing outside, in the endless, black space. Only the transparent inner walls of the dome separated them from the depths of the cosmos.
Tigh watched for her reaction with great curiosity. To him it was the ultimate test – a test to decide if this woman who seemed to have captivated his long-dormant heart and senses, was truly a star-walker, one who could truly understand the person he was beneath his hard shell of a warrior. And as she stared in wonder at the starfield outside, Tigh's heart slowly started filling with joy.
"This is incredible… even a little frightening, Uhura breathed, looking about her in awe. In her off time, she often visited the observations lounge of the Enterprise, at least when the ship was flying in real space, to remain herself again and again why she was out there among the stars. But that was nothing compared with this majestic view here.
Tigh gave her a slight smile.
"There is no need to worry, Siress Uhura. We're perfectly safe. The inner walls of the dome are constructed of transparent tylinium. This is so different from looking out of a Viper cockpit," he added reverently, "as if I could touch eternity with my bare hands. Whenever I feel like suffocating in the narrow space of my quarters, I come up here. Do you like the view?"
"It is absolutely wonderful!" Uhura sighed. "I've never seen a view quite like this, and believe me, I have been to many incredible spaces."
Tigh rose from his seat. "Then come up here and try it. You'll see, one gains a completely new perspective by contemplating space from this angle."
He stood on the little ledge behind the seat as he helped Uhura up the ladder to the console. With a few experienced moves, he showed her how to handle the instruments – it was no big deal, given Uhura's technical skills. The whole equipment was basically a scanner with some controls to adjust the frequency, the switch for the dome, and a few others he still hadn't had the time to ask Apollo about. One day, when they had the time, he probably would, he decided again.
"What was this dome built for?" Uhura asked, leaning back in the seat to take in the fantastic view displayed through the transparent dome for their eyes only.
"This is a so-called celestial chamber," Tigh replied, "the only one left on the Galactica. When the ship was launched over five hundred yahrens ago, there were a number of these domes, Captain Apollo says. Back then, the navigators used to come up here to take star sightings, to sort of double-check the navigation computer. I doubt that many people have been up here in a hundred yahrens or more, though. Except Apollo, of course."
"But these instruments still seem to work," Uhura noticed, feeling more than a little respect for the long-dead designers of the Battlestar. Tigh nodded.
"They are working now because Apollo repaired them. Sometimes he comes up here and imagines navigating the ship the old-fashioned way, as our ancestors did. He can be rather… romantic at times. But in that, I can understand him well. Had I a ship like this, I wouldn't allow the celestial chambers to be taken down, either. There lies a certain challenge in trusting our eyes and our instinct, instead of the instruments."
"How come that you still don't have your own command?" Uhura suddenly asked; this was a question that had bothered her ever since they had started to work together. "You have the rank, you have the experience… so what's going on?"
Tigh didn't answer immediately. His dark, elegant face hardened, as if remembering some unpleasant experience.
"I've been nominated twice for the command post of the Atlantia, he finally said, "the sister ship of the Galactica. However, someone else got the post both times."
"Why?"
"I'm not very... popular by the Quorum of Twelve, Siress Uhura. Aside from Commander Adama, only the Libran councillor, Sire Togo has ever supported my nomination. Unfortunately for me, he has little influence when it comes to military decisions."
"Have you crossed the Quorum in some ways?" Uhura asked. Tigh shrugged.
"I have the unfortunate tendency to tell the truth under any circumstances... in a less than diplomatic manner. The Quorum prefers people who always say things the councillors want to hear... even if it'd lead the Fleet straight into lethal disaster."
"Commander Adama seems not that sort of man to me, though," Uhura remarked.
"Commander Adama is a member of the Quorum himself," Tigh pointed out. "He even used to be the chairman of the Quorum for a short time. Besides, even the councillors know that without him our people wouldn't have a chance to survive. Not to mention the fact that he had inherited the command over the Galactica from his father... just as one day Apollo will take over the post from him. I, on the other hand, am just a disrespectful Libran officer; I can't count high-ranking military commanders to the long line of my ancestors. I was an easy target for the Quorum, to punish not only me but Adama's transgressings as well."
"But you still keep dreaming of your own command, don't you?" Uhura asked, seeing his wistful expression. Tigh nodded.
"Of course I do. We all do. Even if that ship is only a flying water tank with a thruster attached to it. And after I've had the Pegasus under my command, even if it was for a day only, I can't forget the feeling. What it meant to command something so great and wonderful as a Battlestar-class ship..."
"I can understand what you mean all too well," Uhura said seriously. "It's a rare event that I'm allowed to fill in for Captain Kirk on the bridge, but it happens time and again... And even though I never intended to go to command school, sitting in the captain's chair is... oh, I can't even try to describe the feeling. It was simply overwhelming."
"Yeah, that is the nature of being in command," Tigh said with a wry little smile. "But it isn't granted to anyone. And personal achievements don't always seem to play a role when people for this privilege are being selected."
"Does it mean that you have accepted you 'fate'?" Uhura asked. "To always remain second, despite the fact that you could easily be first? Have you really buried all your ambitions?"
"When it comes to plain survival, there is no room for personal ambitions," Tigh replied. "Commander Adama needed my help to be able to run the Galactica and to keep the Fleet safe… well, as safe as possible. He was of more use on the bridge of the Galactica than I'd have been in the command chair of any other ship save a second Battlestar. And we did not have a second Battlestar."
"That was the past," Uhura said. "But circumstances have changed."
Tigh shook his head. "Not yet. We still have a Cylon fleet on our trail. We are still not safe."
"But you will be, soon. Are you going to finally take your life in your own hands?" Uhura pressed.
Unexpectedly, Tigh grinned at her. "To borrow your line from earlier: I'll think about it." He pressed a button on the console and the metal skin of the dome closed again. "We should go back. I have certain… preparations to make before the reception."
"What preparations?" Uhura asked, her curiosity surfacing again. But Tigh just shook his head again.
"That would be telling, wouldn't it? Let me surprise you."
TBC