Adama replayed the recording once again, his eyes closed, his attention focused on the auditory component of the transmission before him as he sat in his quarters. It had been over four sectars since Apollo had brought it to him, that sparkle in his eyes and spring in his step that conveyed the triumph his son was feeling. Since then there had been no further signals of any interest.
Though they had lost the first recording that Apollo had intercepted in the Celestial Dome when Dr. Wilker's lab was destroyed, his son had not relented in his drive to prove that the unidentified signal was more than just a Cylon lure or trap. With Boomer's help, he had set up a monitoring and recording system which he tirelessly reviewed every secton, awaiting another transmission which in his heart Apollo felt was surely from Earth.
Adama smiled, reflecting it was a rare occasion when Apollo's instinct and faith in their ultimate goal of finding Earth may have actually exceeded his father's.
The image before him was of the strange and archaic looking spaceship or base—he wasn't exactly certain which because of all the interference which the best image enhancement had not been able to clear up—with the unintelligible ramblings of the unseen beings in the background, followed by a startling explosion and then nothing but static. There was still nothing conclusive to suggest it was from Earth, and could just as likely be a trick, or a clever ruse by the Cylons that he hadn't figured out as yet. However, as always, he was conscious of the fact and relentlessly on guard. After all, he reminded Apollo, while the Cylons were not exactly the brightest diodes in the emitter array intellectually, no doubt they had learned a few tricks from Baltar. And Baltar had known about the legends regarding Earth. Perhaps he had shared that information with his second in command before turning himself into his brethren, supposedly under Count Iblis' influence . . . Lords, it seemed so long ago now . . . He turned his attention back to the recording.
Having seen it repeatedly, something haunted his mind as a combination of sounds which he had never before assimilated, but suddenly seemed poignant, tugged at his memory. If only they had had the time to modulate the languatron since meeting the men who claimed to come from Earth. Adama had tried once before having the languatron translate the dialogue, but whether it was the quality of the reception or simply that the alien language was beyond their technological capability, it had failed utterly.
. . . Dayton . . .
His eyes snapped open. His heart felt as though it had suddenly leapt into his throat, and he realized that for all his caution, based on yahrens of bitter, dearly-bought experience, that Apollo could be right.
" . . . is . . . ander Dayton. C'mon, you loafers . . .wake up and . . ."
He wound it back and listened again. Then again. Not only could this recording be from Earth, but that the very man he was listening to—albeit, not understanding—could be waiting in the Life Station to be escorted to their imminent meeting, now that Dr. Paye had finally cleared them from quarantine. The man whose voice he had heard over the telecom already.
But how could a man who had been imprisoned on a pirate base for thirty yahrens, according to Apollo's preliminary report, be the same man from this transmission? It was a lure of another kind. A temptation, drawing him closer to Earth, and giving him further fortitude and resilience to stay the path. One more substantial piece of evidence that he could show to his people and the Council, giving them the hope and the faith that their long journey was not in vain. Somehow, though it didn't make much sense, he just knew that this man was the same.
"Life Center? Commander Adama here."
"Yes, Commander?" came Cassie's smooth voice.
"I am ready to receive the newcomers. Please have them brought to my quarters at once."
"Right away, Commander," she replied. Adama clicked off, and after listening to the recording once more, rose and went to his window, gazing out at the innumerable stars. Silently, he prayed for wisdom.
Not for the first time he believed that it was divine intervention that was truly guiding them on their journey. It was the only plausible explanation and it gave him the necessary strength to continue despite the continuing doubts and challenges that made him feel old beyond his yahrens, especially in the loneliness of leadership.
----------
Her limbs felt leaden, and her head as though it was filled with mushies. Lead mushies! Though she tentatively tried to instruct her body to respond, it seemed to have other ideas. Opening her eyes she could manage. That was about it. And that was just fine for now. After all, there was a dark blond-haired God lying in the bed next to her.
Luana vaguely recalled she had been waiting for him, and wondered if she should be angry that he was late. But late for what? She wasn't exactly certain. She furrowed her brows, trying to make the memories come, but they were staying put, wherever they were.
She brushed off the thought as she studied him intently, his face so close to her own as he lay on his side, one arm resting across her body. She squinted, trying to keep her eyes in focus. Hmm. . . He looked a bit rough. As though he had had a run-in with battering ram . . . whatever that was. His face was relaxed in slumber and she smiled at how young and innocent he appeared, all his worries temporarily postponed while he rested.
Voices drew her attention and a small group of men entered her field of vision. She squinted again. She thought that two of them appeared familiar, or maybe it was just the snazzy beige uniforms that triggered her sense of déjà vu. The others, several yahrens older, stirred no memories whatsoever. She could hear the words of the older men, but strangely she couldn't understand a thing, the phonetics sounding almost alien to her.
"So I guess we're off to see the wizard . . . "
It scared her.
A whimper escaped her and suddenly her blond-haired God was leaning over her, his blue eyes filled with anxiety. She realized she couldn't think of his name.
You . . . you are . . .I know you . . . I . . .
That scared her even more.
----------
Dayton knew he really shouldn't be feeling the least bit apprehensive about meeting this Commander Adama. Hell, between his bachelor of science degree in astronautical engineering; his master of science degree in aerospace engineering; countless years progressing as a test pilot, instructor pilot, evaluative pilot, and mission commander; almost five thousand flight hours logged in over forty different aircraft; eventual selection for the astronaut program; and over six hundred hours logged in space— that being before his ill-fated trip through the 'wormhole'—one would tend to think there would be very little that could intimidate him. Especially after Torg. But for some reason, he felt like a kid having to face his dad after obliterating an expensive, irreplaceable, Italian picture window with a poorly aimed baseball.
Like the six-year-old Mark Dayton.
Likely, he reasoned, he was running on empty after their unexpected escape from the asteroid base, exacerbated by Dickens and Lieutenant Rooke's critical condition following surgery, as well as the feeling that he was in some alternate reality as he made the transition from the disgusting grime and squalor of the pirate base to this highly organized and precisely run military vessel that they called a Battlestar.
When the word had come that they were to be escorted to meet Commander Adama, some part of him had been expecting it to be just the two of them; mano-a-mano. Maybe he had just wrapped his mind around the meeting too thoroughly as he thought it through ahead of time, but the fact that Ryan, Baker and Porter were going along somehow threw him for a loop.
As usual, his right hand man, Ryan, could sense his tension, and did his best to dispel the atmosphere and, almost predictably, he greeted the Colonial Warrior 'honour guard' with the words, "Take me to your leader." Obviously, from the guard's response, his career in stand-up comedy was a poor follow-up choice to astronaut. However, Dayton knew from experience that that wouldn't deter his friend.
Ryan kept up his incessant, but highly amusing prattle allowing Dayton to compose himself as they passed through the Life Station, getting a brief glimpse of Starbuck and his lady friend, before they continued through the seemingly endless corridors of the vast warship. It indeed made the largest of US aircraft carriers seem minute in comparison, and he had to keep reminding himself that there were over two hundred other ships somewhere out there that the titan was escorting on its trek across the universe.
They were so scientifically advanced in so many ways that it boggled the mind. . . yet at the same time they seemed to have a strange affinity for toggle switches and a surprising lack of personal means of communication. He shook his head remembering the astonishing number of high school students who owned cell phones back in the US, resulting in the situation where they were never beyond the reach of a few punched buttons. Yet, here they seemed to have a number of stationary communicators interspersed throughout the corridors, instead of cell phones and BlackBerries. Go figure.
Then again, these people had been at war for over a thousand years, thus it made a certain amount of sense that less energy would be expended on conveniences and luxuries, and more on the science of war. But surely they were somewhat interrelated?
Several deck levels, an elevator and a couple corridors later, they finally came to a stop. Ama had coached them on their initial meeting with the illustrious commander as they were issued their languatrons in the Life Station, with Dorado looking on in bemusement, and occasionally assisting with technical difficulties. The captain was currently on his way to be debriefed by the Galactica's XO, and Ama would also be released, now that they were all officially clear of infectious diseases.
Dayton could feel that familiar erectness settling into his body at the thought of meeting this leader of the Colonial people, both in military and political capacities. He couldn't help but wish he had had time to deal with his long hair. Lord, they looked like a bunch of refugees from a 1960's Hippie Love-in. Or maybe the Hair Bear Bunch. On second thought, maybe they didn't. He honestly couldn't remember what the animated bears looked like anymore. Another vague, but nonetheless, somewhat pertinent reference to another life . . . another time . . .
Ryan leaned over and whispered to him, "Just remember, he's not our superior officer."
"And you remember, he's everyone else's around here." Dayton replied as the door slid open and they had their first glimpse of Commander Adama.
Adama's dark eyes flickered over the group curiously, leaving Dayton with the idea that the man missed very little. Silver hair and dark eyebrows beneath a lined forehead bespoke the constant worries the man experienced as leader of the Fleet. An eye catching silver medallion which inferred rank or station rested at his throat on his dark blue dress uniform. His back was slightly humped, as though having a spinal deformity of some sort, but still he carried with him an undeniable presence. He smiled slightly before stepping forward to greet them.
"Please, come in. I apologize that I was unable to welcome you until now, but even I must bow to Doctor Salik's authority in matters medical. I'm Commander Adama." He reached out his right hand, grasping Dayton's forearm and squeezing it. "Commander Dayton?"
"Yes, I'm Commander Mark Dayton." Dayton confirmed, returning the grip and realizing Adama had to have been given his description or photo to pick him out from the identically dressed astronauts. "My men, Commander: Lieutenant Colonel Robert Baker; Patrick Ryan, PhD; and James Porter, PhD."
Adama nodded, turning to each and grasping their arms warmly. "Welcome. I cannot begin to tell you how much this means to our people, to actually . . . meet men from Earth." He stood back, staring almost reverently at them, as though he couldn't quite believe it himself.
"We're kind of excited about it ourselves." Ryan returned with an easy smile. "Your hospitality has been a vast improvement over our previous hosts'. . . at least so far."
Adama nodded soberly, taking in the painfully thin group. "I trust we've seen to your needs adequately? I understand your injured man is still in critical condition."
"Yes, Commander, so we were informed. I haven't seen him since the surgery." Dayton paused, letting that sink in. "And we thank you for receiving us. I'm sure you have some questions, and a few doubts . . . " he suggested.
Adama's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, "Doubts, Commander?" He motioned to the chairs in front of his desk, and Baker and Porter made their way in that direction.
"I gathered from Captain Dorado, and Lieutenant Starbuck to a lesser extent, that Earth is deemed by some of your people to be purely conjecture or myth." Dayton explained, staying in place. He didn't fail to notice Ryan remaining at his side . . . as always. "It would obviously be advantageous to anyone seeking asylum to claim to be from there, whether they were or not." He ignored the elbow that Ryan delivered to his ribcage . . . as did Adama.
"I . . . see." Adama blinked. "You're very candid, Commander."
"I think it's best, Commander. After thirty years of imprisonment, one learns to value the time he has left. Beating around the bush is a complete waste of time. I'd like to start our relationship, assuming we're going to have one, with a clear and open line of communication. Let's try to avoid any misunderstandings if that's at all possible. We have nothing to hide from your people and we aren't a risk to them . . . though I'm not altogether certain that it works both ways."
Adama's eyebrows rose slightly at that, his gaze flickering briefly to Ryan as the man let out an apparent groan of dismay at his commander's blunt words. "That's a . . . refreshing approach, Commander. And one I not only respect, but appreciate more than I could begin to explain." He smiled faintly, thinking of long wasted centars spent maneuvering in bureaucratic arenas. "Please be seated. I'm sure you're as anxious as I am to begin."
----------
It was worse than facing a Cylon Base Ship's force of fighters all by himself. Actually the more he thought about it, the more he'd rather be single-handedly squaring off against one hundred and fifty Cylon Raiders in his Viper than sitting by helplessly in the Life Station as Dr. Paye examined Lu.
Again.
Somehow, Starbuck had thought that she'd be able to tell him what had happened to her since he'd seen her last.. He was wrong. Her recollection of the events was sketchy at best. She recalled looking up Oriana in her quarters with the intent of finding out what the woman really knew about the triad fiasco, but after that her mind seemed to be blank. Just small fragments of memories remained as she seemingly blacked out momentarily to be drawn deep into the locked portals of her mind, trying to get a glimpse of what lay behind.
"Well done, Luana. Now I want you to sit up." Paye instructed her, stepping back from the biobed, only just out of reach.
Starbuck instinctively took a step closer to her as her brown eyes locked on his, full of uncertainty and fear. Since that first moment when she had awakened, she had constantly sought him out, never letting her glance stray far from him. As if she was seeking his reassurance . . . or just making sure he didn't turn heel and run.
"Starbuck, let her do it." Paye reminded him, voice cautionary but no-nonsense. He was trying to find out exactly how severely her neurological damage had affected her motor functions and speech. So far, her pupils were responding adequately to light; she had moderate strength in all extremities; she was alert, and oriented to person and place; her speech was slow and laborious, but comprehensible; she could read; and she tried her best to obey commands, but was clearly having difficulty getting her limbs to obey.
Starbuck let out a short breath of frustration as he again stepped back, willing Luana to swing her legs over the bed with her usual grace. He could feel his own body reacting, each muscle tensing as if he could somehow transfer the necessary strength and energy to her. It was excruciating to see her frustration and self-disgust as she strenuously pulled herself to a sitting position, her teeth clenched and tears of disappointment and anger running down her face.
"Nicely done, Luana." Paye congratulated her. "Do you think you can stand with some support, or have you had enough for now?"
Luana wiped her tears away clumsily with the back of her hand, taking deep, gasping breaths. She looked between Paye and Starbuck and opened her mouth on two separate occasions before she finally replied, her voice thick with determination and pure guts, "Stand".
Starbuck was at her side in a milli-centon.
"Remember to let Luana do the work, Starbuck. We're only here if she's unable to support herself." Paye reminded him, wishing he could have just sent the warrior away and had a med tech standing by as was the norm. However, the staffing levels were stretched too thin with the influx of asteroid refugees, and the lieutenant simply refused to leave the ensign's side, at least while he was confined to the Life Station recovering from his own injuries.
"C'mon, Lu. You can do it." Starbuck encouraged her quietly, resting a hand on her upper arm. She looked up at him searchingly for a moment before again gathering her resolve.
Luana took another deep breath and attempted to stand. The concentration on her face was evident as she strained to make muscles respond to silent commands.
"Move yourself to the edge of the bed first, Luana, and then lean forward. You need to get your center of gravity over your legs before you push yourself upward. " Paye instructed her patiently, aware she had to learn all over again things that she had taken for granted all of her life.
Starbuck chewed his lip as he listened to the physician deliver step-by-tedious-step instructions on how to stand, as if she was some kind of mentally defective . . . He closed his eyes briefly, shaking off the repugnant thought.
Luana was groaning as though it was the most difficult thing she had ever done in her life. She struggled to her feet, swaying on the way up, but immediately steadied by a hand on each arm by the men flanking her. "Did . . . it," she muttered, her face set and determined.
"Yes, you did. Well done." Paye nodded. "That's enough for now. Can you sit down?"
Luana strenuously shook her head. "Walk."
"Remember this will get easier with each successive neural stimulation treatment. We don't want to overdo it now, Ensign." Paye reminded her.
"Then . . . " Luana growled at him, "You . . . sit."
Starbuck sniffed in amusement. It was another indication that his Lu was still in there. The same spunky young woman he had left behind when he launched on his patrol was somewhere beneath that battered husk, battling to break out. He suddenly found himself fighting down that fury that had been simmering beneath the surface since he had found out from Boomer the sketchy details surrounding the situation. Lords, as soon as he got out of the Life Station, he was going to get to the bottom of who was responsible for this and they'd pay for their actions. Oh, and he was charging interest for every agonizing step that Luana took and every tear she shed along the way. Yeah, whoever was responsible . . .
The light but insistent touch of her hand brought him back to the events at hand. She looked up at him, eyes squinting, intently searching his features once again. "Will you . . . stand by me?" Her voice was hesitant. Nervous. As though afraid of his answer.
"I won't let you fall," he assured her, putting an arm around her and giving her a gentle squeeze. He was proud of her determination, especially in the face of her fear.
"I don't mind . . . falling . . . as long as you're there . . . to help me up again," she told him slowly, but purposely, struggling to get out the words, again holding his gaze and raising a hand to tentatively caress his face.
He paused for a moment, studying her. His head cocked to the side as he realized what she was truly asking. As tempted as he was to ignore it, as he had many times in the past with other women, this was not the time or the place to be deliberately obtuse. He reminded himself that it was because of him that she was in this situation. He took her hand, placing a tender kiss on her fingers before responding. "I'll be there, Lu. Whatever it takes, I'll be there. I promise."
----------
Apollo waited wearily in the pilot's seat of the Colonial shuttle, headset in place. Despite all the work they had done in preparation for blowing the pirate base, it still came down to what Colonel Tigh had found out from Skeff, the retrieval operator from the asteroid hangar, Captain Dorado, and Commander Dayton, as to how they would do it.
"Colonel Tigh here." The executive officer's voice finally came on line, the line crackling with interference from the asteroid field despite their proximity to the base.
"Colonel, Captain Apollo. We're only a centar from beginning to evacuate the base. Engineer Volk has reestablished a power supply to the Dynamos and is now bypassing the preset energy emission levels. We should be ready to blow them from the pirate control room in the next centar or two."
"Apollo, I checked with a couple of the pirate engineers, and I'm afraid they weren't very forthcoming about any information concerning the Dynamos. Honestly, I don't think they really knew the answers, and they certainly seemed unconcerned about any potentially powerful explosions." Tigh informed him. "Your man, Skeff, was certainly more friendly, but he confessed he didn't know much about them either. Apparently, the two men who did are dead."
"Anything from Dorado or Dayton?"
"Dorado gave us similar information to what we already had regarding his interactions with the spheroids. He did say that Lieutenant Starbuck apparently blasted the one that disabled your fighter to get your Viper out of range without being hit himself."
"With no repercussions." Apollo noted with interest.
"Well, other than the obvious ones." Tigh remarked dryly, "But apparently the explosion was 'less than spectacular' in Starbuck's opinion."
"That sounds more promising." Apollo nodded. "Jolly and Greenbean are loading one of the spheroids in the hold of a shuttle to bring back for Dr. Wilker to dissect, but it's powered down, and we have every intention of keeping it that way until it's in a controlled environment. Any word from Commander Dayton?"
"The Earth men are out of Life Station and being debriefed by Commander Adama as we speak. I think we still have time to wait for final word from that quarter. Just continue as planned for now, Apollo. What about the base's main reactor?"
"Just like the Dynamos. We'll overload it until it blows and it'll take the whole base with it. No missiles required. Volk is going to put a delay on the triggering mechanism so we can get away safely . . . in a Viper anyhow." The captain added, having every intention of being the man who hit that trigger and fled for his ship.
"Colonel? Doctor Wilker here."
"Yes, Doctor?"
"Just briefly . . . Captain, you have thoroughly scanned the reactor system, of course?"
"Yes, Doctor," said Apollo, almost a sigh. "It's an archaic, laser-fired fusion reactor, like we used to use over a thousand yahrens back." Lords, Wilker was such a techno-geek . . .
"Could you upload the scans to my lab, please? I'd like to look at it."
"Sure, Doc." Apollo followed suit.
"What's your plan?" asked Tigh.
"Basically, a replay of what we did to the Cylon pulsar cannon on Arcta. By blowing both the cooling and damping control systems, we can make the reactor run wild, and blow itself to Kingdom Come in a matter of centons. Frankly, the way they have the thing Tribunal-rigged and by-passed all to Hades Hole, I'm surprised it hasn't blown up already. It looks like 'The Cylon That Time Forgot' or something."
"I see. Keep me advised, Captain."
"Yes, Colonel. And if you can, let the Earthers know I would appreciate any data they might have on this museum piece."
"Understood, Captain. I'll update you when I hear from Commander Adama."
"Yes, sir."
"Tigh out."