Disclaimers in Part One. Remember: REVIEWS equals MORE FANFIC!
For those still wondering:
English dialogue is in "".
Colonial dialogue is bolded.
Italicized dialogue indicates voices coming over the wireless.
With enormous (Basestar-sized) thanks to The Sidhe, who gave me one of the ideas appearing below. Check out "The Consequences of Not Being Polite" to see why. Thanks also to everyone who has written in so far; you're what keeps this story going!
That all said, back to work…
THE LONG ROAD HOME
Book I: Promised Land
Part Five
The woman was neither angel nor demon, though she seemed to glow like the first and fought like the other.
She explained herself as a warrior, speaking in an unfamiliar tongue and telling of distant stars.
She spoke in reverence of gods that had gone without worshiped for millennia.
She knew of things only just learned from a hulk found buried in Alaska.
One year later…
1402 Hours GMT
Operations Room Alpha
Battlestar Nemesis
The room was as brightly lit as the corridors and CIC they'd already trudged through, and no less Spartan. A single large planning board dominated the room and was it's only piece of furnishing. For some reason, Commander Tigh felt the need to apologize for this. "I'd offer you all chairs, but…" He trailed off, evidentially at a loss.
Admiral Rice picked up for him, at least attempted to. "Quite alright, Commander. We…can't really sit down in these…these suits…"
The two groups looked at one another for some moments, uncertainty simmering in the air. Rice stared at Tigh, and Tigh glared back. Athena held Taylor's gaze, and Taylor glared back. Costanza and Ishnay tried to keep eyes with Lewis and Gaurland and the Marines glaring back as only Marines can. And nobody present would as much as glance in the direction of the room's final occupant. This might have stretched further still and without resolution, had said final occupant not spoken up then.
"Sirs," Starbuck began, addressing the group. "Perhaps I should leave the room…"
"No!" No less than four voices all but shouted this at the same time, causing everyone present to flinch or jump in collective surprise. More silence followed, only slightly less tense this time. At some point both Rice and Tigh found themselves staring toward Starbuck at the same time, their expressions unreadable. The others, Athena and Costanza particularly, would glance over in her direction several times before quickly looking away.
Rice shook his head. "Look, this is getting ridiculous. Agreed Commander?"
Tigh tore his remaining eye off his former pilot and nemesis and turned to his opposite number. "Indeed, Admiral."
"No doubt you have some questions for us. And Colonel Thrace in particular?"
"Only a few thousand, Admiral. And no doubt you have some of your own, yes?"
"Yes."
Tigh shared a glance with Athena, who offered a quick nod of agreement. "Then please go ahead and ask them. I am sure Star...Colonel Thrace will translate if required. Acceptable for the moment?" The Admiral nodded. "One question of my own: would you care to to move this somewhere else, or are you comfortable re?"
"Commander, my people and I are each wearing a stone-and-a-half worth of rubber and Kevlar that is environmentally sealed and lacks internal plumbing. 'Comfort' isn't in the cards right now."
Tigh's smirk at the Terran's candor appeared and vanished in the blink of an eye. Instead, he nodded gravely and stated "Understood, Sir." He took another breath. "How much has Colonel Thrace told you about us?"
Rice looked to Starbuck "Colonel?"
Starbuck in turn stepped forward. She focused on the wall opposite her, which conveniently kept her eyes off both sides. "I have provided as thorough briefing as possible of Colonial history, Commander. At no time have I been under any duress to do so, nor have I knowingly compromised the Fleet's operational security." If anyone noticed she was parroting Rice's earlier statement, they gave no sign.
"Including the attack by the Cylons."
"Yes, Sir."
This seemed to satisfy Tigh, who turned his attention back to Rice. "Do you require a formal request for our Fleet to enter this star system?"
"Do you intend to settle here, in this star system?"
"Possibly." This was as far as Tigh was apparently willing to go. This, as far as Rice was concerned, was enough.
"I'll need some further evidence you and your ship aren't a massive Cylon construct designed to trap us."
"Not convinced, are you?" Tigh addressed the question to Starbuck.
"Would you be?"
Her tone was as challenging as ever, just on the edge of outright disrespect. Athena and her shipmates covered their amusement well. Tigh simply nodded, his normal frown deepening to an almost-sneer. "I'd have my weapon out at all times. If it were me, that is."
"Good thing then it isn't you, right? Might forget to keep the safety on, or keep the chamber clear."
"Colonel," Rice growled warningly. Tigh simply shook his head.
"It's alright, Admiral. The Colonel and I…we know where we stand with each other."
"Yes, Sir," Starbuck affirmed. To Tigh she said, "I…apologize…if I'm too far out of line, Commander." There naturally wasn't a hint of apology to her tone.
"Accepted, even if I don't recall you ever being 'in line' with anything, Colonel." Starbuck looked ready to say something further to that, which Tigh didn't give her chance to get out. "Admiral? What sort of evidence will you require to be satisfied?"
"An explanation of how you acquired this vessel would be a start." Rice waved his hand about for emphasis. Tigh didn't seem offended by the question or implication; more relieved by it, if anything.
"Captain Agathon, if you would?"
"Yes, Sir." Athena, who had been holding back to that point, now stepped forward. "Our fleet came across the Nemesis approximately a year ago according to our calendar. Has Starbuck…Colonel Thrace explained our system of time measurements, Sir?"
"She has."
"Very well. The decision was made to salvage the Nemesis, which was floating derelict at the time, and commission it into the Colonial Fleet under military control."
"You mean you found a frakkin' Basestar just floating about abandoned?" Starbuck's tone carried enough disbelief for them all.
"You can understand our, ahem, surprise at such a find. And God knows we weren't about to turn down a gift like this."
"Despite the possibility of it being a trap?"
"Naturally we considered that. Search parties however found…" Athena paused and swallowed, something dark crossing her face. "There were…bodies…aboard…"
"Lots of bodies," Tigh murmured.
"Cylons?" Rice asked the obvious. When none of the Colonials responded, he persisted. "Mechanical or…?"
"Both. The entire crew compliment."
"Mother of God…" Rice couldn't say more. Even Taylor and Starbuck looked stricken at the image. "How?"
"We have some...some theories, but don't know anything definite," Athena stated bluntly. "There were no hull breaches and no indication of external engagement. There was wreckage surrounding it from what we believe was another Basestar and possibly a Resurrection Ship. You know what that is as well, yes?"
"Yes."
"Additionally, remember I said it was derelict, not abandoned. There was one survivor found. She was…is…badly traumatized by whatever happened."
"Which model?" Starbuck asked.
"That's for later. In any case, she isn't aboard this ship." Tigh's tone precluded questions along this line.
Rice took the hint. "This brings us to the next issue. Colonel Thrace led us to understand there would be some 40,000 survivors coming. Surely they aren't all crammed aboard this one ship, Commander?"
"No, they are not. The remainder of our Fleet is waiting outside of this system. As our original message to you stated we are an advanced party, Sir."
"Phrased like that, given what we know from Starbuck, are you surprised how cautious we are?"
"Not in the slightest, Admiral." The Colonial Commander's lips worked into a tight grin directed at the table between them as he rubbed his bald pate, adding, "I'm personally relieved by it, to be honest."
"Oh?"
Tigh however didn't deign to elaborate. Major Taylor chose that moment to lean over to Rice. "Sir, advise that we leave someone with the shuttle at all times, just in case. Plus we've been out of contact with Olympus for a bit now."
Starbuck apparently overheard this. "I agree, Sir."
"Noted, Major. Colonel." Rice was privately irritated he hadn't thought of Taylor's suggestion himself, and still more annoyed Starbuck had both heard it and put her own two cents in. He'd hoped to keep her out of any…awkward decisions. The absolute last thing he could afford was to test her loyalties here.
The Colonel nudged him and nodded across the table. "Admiral?" Rice followed her eyes, noting Athena was handing a wall-mounted handset to Tigh, whose stance shifted slightly at whatever he heard. He glanced over toward them with something vaguely akin to worry, then muttered into Athena's ear.
"Commander?" Rice called over, watching Tigh attentively.
"An update from my XO, Sir."
"Something wrong, Commander?"
"No, no. Just a couple of your planes flew off just now."
"I see."
"And your own conference there? Anything we should know?"
"My officers simply suggested we have someone man our shuttle and re-establish contact with our ship."
"Which is where, may I ask?"
This brought the Terran up short for several seconds. "Nearby," was all Admiral Rice was prepared to state. Tigh and the others didn't appear wholly satisfied with this, but neither did they look prepared to press the point.
"You have a twelve-hour quarantine period before you can take those suits off, correct?"
"Technically," the Admiral nodded. "If you and your crew are willing, we may be able to cut that period short a little."
"How?" This came from Lieutenant Ishnay. In response, Rice waved to Corporal Lewis.
"I can take some samples from members of the crew here and do some test for possible biohazards in either blood or saliva with some of the equipment aboard our shuttle."
"How many samples would you need?"
"Depends upon how many crew you have aboard. The larger the sample, the more confident we can be."
"I, uh, noticed Colonel Thrace doesn't appear to have suffered any adverse reactions to your atmosphere."
Admiral Rice cut in. "We're treating Colonel Thrace as a…special case."
Athena apparently couldn't resist commenting, "That's putting it mildly."
"What was that, Captain?"
"Nothing, Commander."
"Hmph. Lieutenant Ishnay, you are to provide Admiral Rice's men with whatever assistance they require. Captain, pass the word this is a direct order from me."
"Aye, Commander."
"Admiral Rice? How long will it take your men to analyze the samples we provide?"
"Lewis?"
"I'd say five to ten minutes, depending on the complexity of the samples."
Starbuck stifled a nervous chuckle at the ping-pong quality the discussion had taken. She found her eyes zipping to each speaker in turn, at some point meeting Athena's. The intensity behind that brief contact hit her with almost physical force. She hadn't flinched from it, but neither could she keep herself wincing a bit from the raw anger intermixed with disbelief in those dark eyes. Athena broke that contact before her own emotions nearly causing her carefully schooled façade to crumble. Starbuck felt her own composure begin to wilt as a result.
Fortunately, Admiral Rice's voice shook her back to herself. "Colonel?"
"Sorry, Sir. What was that?" She couldn't bring herself to meet the Admiral's eyes, noticing instead how Tigh was back to scowling in her general direction while everyone else's was looking everywhere except towards her.
"The Commander suggested we continue this discussion while Corporal Lewis and Lieutenant Ishnay beginning testing fluid and blood samples from the crew. Does that sound acceptable?"
"What about the shuttle?" Starbuck asked, deliberately switching to English.
"Sergeant Gaurland will return to the shuttle and act as an internal relay for us." Rice threw an apologetic look towards Tigh. "The Colonel simply asked who would return to our shuttle, Commander. I'm sure she didn't mean to cut you out of the discussion or any manner of disrespect."
"That's alright, Admiral. As I said, Starbuck and I share a…long history." From anyone else, this would have sounded conciliatory. From Tigh it was a not-so-veiled promise of an open airlock, and no pressure suit, if he heard such a tone again, rank and status be damned.
For the second time in as many minutes, Starbuck had to stifle a laugh at how surreal the situation was. Instead, she bit her lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, blinking back tears that weren't from the pain alone.
1718 Hours GMT
The next hours passed in a blur, at least for the medical team.
A steady stream of volunteers moved in and out of Life Station, each offering the requested three drops of blood and DNA swabs covered with spit to either the CMO or one of his orderlies. Ishnay had made the command decision that Taylor and Lewis stay out of sight lest the sight of them – or their gear at any rate – prompt questions he knew he couldn't answer.
It of course had been impossible to keep rumors from spreading and stories getting spun out of the thinnest thread from the moment Javelin had piped over Starbuck challenge for her to cut engines. Even the Commander's directive to bring the Terrans in via cleared corridors and deploying the ship's entire Marine complement hadn't kept the overly curious from sneaking a peek or two. The sheer volume of crewmembers coming in attested to this.
Ishnay himself had been a pharmacist before the worlds ended, finding himself aboard the Pan Galacia only because he'd won a lottery and with just enough Picon dollars in his bank account to afford a motel outside of Delphi. His minimal training in drug distribution had by necessity been expanded over the years, to where he'd become Major Cottle's right hand man and now a CMO in his own right. He liked to think he'd been trained well enough to handle any contingency that might arise; certainly the Commander's occasional praise of his work helped bolster his confidence there.
But all this was so far beyond the pale he couldn't help but feel as lost as when they had received news of the Colonies destruction. Contact with entirely new people, clearly more advanced both technically and probably socially than their own? Never mind how a nearly-legendary Viper pilot traveled in their company despite being presumed dead these last two years, yet seemingly none the worse for her journey back from the afterlife? Who in their right mind could even conceive of witnessing such things, never mind trying to prepare for them?
The apparatus Lewis and Taylor worked over appeared to be a combination electron microscope, photostat scanner, computer monitor, and spinning centrifuge. Ishnay counted his blessings that both Terrans spoke passable Standard, though their accents kept slurring only every eighth or tenth word. Still he could only barely follow their explanation of how their equipment worked. Despite these uncertainties, he followed his orders and hoped he wasn't unintentionally handing over the keys to his people's final extermination.
Each of the blood samples consisted of just three drops on a small slip of plastic, which in turn was placed face down on the scanner portion of the equipment. The swabs were placed into miniature test tubes and fitted into the centrifuge a dozen at a time. Instead of spinning, it would flash with a blast of ultraviolet light. The test tubes were then removed from the assembly and placed into storage racks alongside their corresponding blood sample. The monitor array was constantly flashing new data that Ishnay could just make out as DNA and RNA sequences, projections of each, and scrolling texts of an alien alphabet.
The two Terrans would answer Ishnay's questions when he posed them but otherwise carried on a running dialogue between themselves in their own language. There was nothing hostile or secretive in their manner or tone of their exchanges. Coolly professional, the both of them, and completely focused upon their work for at least the first two dozen or so samples they examined.
With each progressive sample after that, however they seemed to become more and more...anxious. It was difficult to tell through their heavy suits and rapidly fogging visors. By sample fifty, Corporal Lewis was punching buttons on the keyboard as if they were nipping at his fingertips. Major Taylor would glance at the readouts from all this and shake his head as if in disbelief, then go back to receiving and processing the samples Ishnay brought over.
"Is something wrong, Sir?" the Colonial CMO asked when he brought over samples seventy through seventy-eight to Taylor.
"Eh?" the Terran grunted in his native language. "What was that?"
"Is there something wrong?" Ishnay repeated carefully, refusing to let go of the tray. Taylor looked at him, clearly needing a moment to get the hint.
"Oh, uh, no. No, no, Lieutenant." He quickly cleared his throat. "Nothing is wrong here."
"Then will you please explain what has you both so excited? I am the Chief Medical Officer of this ship, remember."
"Um," Lewis broken in. "How representative of the ship's crew are these samples, Lieutenant?"
"A fair cross-section of ages and genders. We've only about five hundred crew aboard, about a quarter of them female."
"That's all?"
"We also have a civilian population aboard: spouses, dependents and the like. Add another say two hundred there, plus another two hundred civilians with or undergoing technical training.
"And we're getting samples from the latter two groups as well?"
"They were among the first contacted by Captain Agathon. It's only been the last dozen or so that have come from the military crew."
"What are the sanitary conditions among the civilians?"
"A damn sight better than they were aboard the Galactica. Has Thrace told you about 'Dogstown'?"
"A bit."
"Well, you won't find any of that here. We've been able to fabricate soap and cleansers aboard Nemesis and make damned sure they get distributed Fleet-wide."
Taylor pondered this for a bit, accepting the next two sample trays from Ishnay, who decided to trust his gut that the Terrans weren't hiding anything serious. By the hundredth sample, Ishnay was starting to feel dizzy from the hectic back-and-forth. Dizzy and not a little irritated with his visitors. Certainly, his orderlies were starting to look a tad rebellious.
"Look," he finally said as he handed over another tray of swabs and sample tabs. "I'm calling an end to this unless I start getting some information here!" Neither Terran seemed to pay attention at that moment, both instead intent upon something showing on the monitor.
"What exactly am I looking at?" Ishnay demanded. He recognized the double-helix structure showing there, though the characters were indecipherable. What caught him was how the DNA helix seemed to be in constant rotation, pausing every few seconds to highlight a section or two of the helix in red, further text scrolling out beside that section before the helix began rotating again.
Lewis explained very carefully what the DNA projection represented: a composite of every sample brought in. He then explained that the highlighted sections were: projections of base pair combinations that would impact upon a body's interacts with identified pathogens and infections.
Then he explained what it meant for the highlighting to appear in red.
It was all Ishnay could do to stumble back into the nearest chair, speechless.
1801 Hours GMT
Olympus CIC
Commander Avery-Hunter was distantly aware of the activity around him, the majority of his mental and emotional facilities focused expressly upon the primary AEGIS display before them. Colonel Callisto handled the moment-to-moment details of running both the Bridge and ship as any good XO might, leaving the CO free for the more important matters of worrying himself sick.
A new watch was just coming on shift when Callisto silently handed him a small slip of hardcopy. He looked down at and frowned. "Have you read this?" he asked her quietly.
"I have, Sir."
"Wow."
"My reaction too."
The CO stared at the paper for another heartbeat. "This forwarded to 'Babel'?"
"I've confirmed."
"Wow."
"Yeah," the XO echoed. "Wow."
"Get ready to modify alert status to MOSES. We go on confirmation from Babel."
"Aye-aye." The young colonel moved off to start barking orders to her equally young subordinates. The CO tuned all this out and resumed staring at the main board.
"Wow," he chuckled to himself one last time, feeling a genuine smile hit him for the first time in years.
TBC...
Authors Note: a "stone" in terms of weight measurement is roughly 14 pounds. I'm using it here because Apollo used it to refer to his weight loss in "Collaborators", indicating the Colonials use the Imperial System of weights and measures. I could of course be wrong here, but hey, it's all fiction right?