With the Weapons of a Woman
by Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction.
Author's notes: In the appearance and culture of the Ovions, I chose to follow the novelization rather than the actual pilot. Again, I added my own twist to the bugs, so this shouldn't be considered canonical, either.
Apids are hive insects; the Colonial equivalent of bees. The name has been created by Karen.
Chapter 11 – The Tylium Mine Mystery
One didn't have to be an exobiologist to see that the newcomers themselves were not humans. Not even humanoid in appearance. In fact, they looked like rather large insects – about five feet tall each, with large, bulbous eyes set sidewise near the top of their oval heads, long, barrel-like trunks and four arms, all of which ended in three-fingered, clawed hands.
One of the insectoids took aim at the formidable target of Sergeant Jolly – no wonder they found him towering over them a tad intimidating – but another one pushed the barrel of the weapon down. They briefly talked among each other in a high-pitched, chirping language, and then the one who seemed to be some sort of leader among them pulled a hand-held device from under the shapeless green mesh that obviously served as its clothing and pressed a button. With a barely audible whine, an opening appeared in the ground. The insectoids gestured with their weapons to the humans to enter. After a moment of hesitation, Apollo obeyed, and the others followed suit.
They ended up in a tunnel, where a pod – made of some half-transparent, pale yellow material neither of them could identify – was waiting. The insectoids gestured them to sit in the pod; two of the bugs got in, too, and then the pod closed its retractable roof above their heads. Serina, although usually not prone to claustrophobia, grabbed Apollo's arm when the vehicle swung into motion.
Riding the pod in a breakneck speed, they progressed through a long, subterraneous passageway to a cell. There the pod stopped, its roof retracted, and they were gestured to step out of it. The tunnel they now walked along was walled with cell-like panels, glowing with a soft, amber light from within. It was really pretty, in fact; and yet, Serina could not quite suppress the feeling of dread that was threatening to overcome her.
After a while, they emerged from the passageway into an immense underground cavern. The giant, many-celled chamber went deeper into the ground than their eyes could have seen, and ascended almost as high. There were countless levels, each one ringed with compartments shaped like honeycombs.
Within those compartments, more insectoids were working; smaller than the ones that had escorted them here, and their skin – or carapace? – was a dull brown rather than greenish like that of the guards… because what else could have those armed guys been? Some of those larger bugs were clearly overlooking the workers, who poked at walls, extracted chunks of amber-coloured ore and placed those in small, many-wheeled vehicles, which other workers continually drew in and out of the compartments and sent on through dark, intervening corridors.
The whole place looked like a gigantic hive of oversized apids. Serina found the sight downright nightmarish but Apollo seemed astonished by the seemingly limitless heights and depths of the cave, and at the furiously active work going on in all its cells.
"Incredible!" he murmured. "This is probably the largest underground Tylium mine known to exist anywhere. Father was right about there being Tylium here. There's enough of it just in sight to fuel all our ships and run them half across the universe."
"But Skipper," Jolly said, a lot less enthusiastic, not that Serina would blame him for it. "It's really bizarre, isn't it? For something like this to exist here, without us knowing that it had been reactivated – how is it possible? Who uses all this energy… and for what?"
"I don't care about that!" Serina exclaimed before Apollo could have answered. "I just want to know what happened to Boxey!"
One of the insectoids gave them a shove, guiding them towards a natural bridge that stretched across the wide chamber. It wasn't a path for someone afraid of heights; Serina did her best not to show how uncomfortable the knowledge of bottomless depth beneath them made her. She would cross the cavern, if it meant to find Boxey on the other side!
The bridge led them to a guarded archway; large and wide even for someone of Lieutenant Jolly's size to pass through. One of the guards escorting them signalled a complicated pattern, using all four of its arms. That must have been some kind of password, because the bugs guarding the archway stepped aside, granting them access to the room behind.
One of the gate guards pulled out something that must have been a translator device, because it turned the insectoids' chirping into a soft, singsong voice. A voice that spoke the Colonial Common – a language based on Caprican yet somewhat different from it.
"You area bout to be brought into the presence of Lotay, Queen of the Ovions," it told them. "Show her proper respect."
"We will," Apollo replied; he seemed angry but kept his anger under tight control. Don't worry," he murmured to Serina. "If they've done anything to the boy, I…"
"Don't say it!" she protested. "I'm scared enough as it is!"
The luxury of the Ovion Queen's throne room contrasted strongly with the austerity of the mine. Several layers of finely woven, elaborately patterned cloth decorated the walls and the high ceiling. The Queen herself lounged on a raised dais, resting on cushions and surrounded by a bejewelled retinue of servitors – or perhaps slaves? – that were scurrying back and forth in the room, performing all sorts of odd duties the purpose of which the humans couldn't figure out.
One of them played a curved, metallic instrument that vaguely looked like a harp but had only three strings and sounded like an out-of-whack generator. The Queen seemed pleased enough by the so-called music, though; perhaps the bugs heard on different frequencies than humans did.
A pair of other servitors was filing down the fine spikes that dotted the surface of the Queen's limbs; Serina could barely suppress a hysterical giggle. It looked too much like a human woman waxing her legs. Another servant held a long tube, from which the Queen occasionally drew a liquid substance, the residue of which she blew out her mouth as smoke.
"Looks like Starbuck's fumarillos," Jolly commented sotto voce. "Do you think he'd make fast friends with the Queen, Skipper?"
"As Starbuck likes to describe himself, he's beloved by man, woman, child and beast," Apollo replied just as quietly. "And most of them get him in trouble. Let's focus on our own trouble right now, shall we?"
Jolly nodded ruefully and gave the Bug Queen a nervous glance. She didn't seem to have noticed their lack of respect; in truth, she didn't seem to have noticed their arrival at all – or, in a true queenly fashion, chose to ignore them for an imperial centon. Bit them she looked up from her perch upon a high pile of cushions and waved to the guard with the translator and chirped something.
"You are Captain Apollo?" came the low, sing-song voice from the device.
"I am," Apollo responded, hiding his shock that the Ovion would know his name. More chirping followed.
"Welcome to Carillon," the device translated. "I assume you are impressed?"
"Confused would be more like it," Apollo said with forced civility. "Listen, your Majesty, we've lost a little boy. Do you know where he might be?"
The Queen turned her luminous eyes to Serina, as if she'd recognized in her the mother of the child – by what arcane instinct ever. Serina had the uncomfortable feeling of being seized up for dinner or whatnot.
"He is safe," the Queen announced. "We found him and brought him here."
Serina nearly collapsed in relief. She had to hold onto Apollo's arm to be able to keep her balance.
"Would you care to join him?" the Ovion inquired.
"Yes, we would," Apollo replied. "And I hope for your sake that he hasn't been harmed in any way!"
The Queen nodded noncommittally with her oversized head and rose from her plush cushions with surprising, almost artistic grace. Serina was astonished by her height; she must have been at least six feet tall and practically towered over her rather short subjects. But again, that was a fairly common insectoid trait.
With a walk that was definitely queen-like, Lotay led the way out of the royal chamber.
Serina noted that their guards fell easily into step behind them as they followed the Queen out. It made her extremely uncomfortable. As they made their way down the narrow corridor, she leaned towards Apollo and asked in a whisper.
"Do you believe she knows the Colonies are gone?"
"I don't know," Apollo whispered back. "But she does know my name, and that seems just a teeny bit suspicious to me. Be careful."
The Queen led them into a small chamber and gestured them to halt. One of the guards sealed off the entranceway. Right after that, they could feel the floor beneath them move. Serina, startled, grabbed Apollo's arm for support.
"What's happening?"
"Must be their version of an elevator," Apollo replied soothingly, "except that it moves sideways as well as up."
And indeed, after a short while the moving chamber stopped. The Queen gestured the guard to open the doors. Exchanging wary looks, the three humans allowed themselves to be guided through the doorway… and then they stepped right into Elysium, or at least so it seemed.
It was a banquet room of enormous dimensions, filled with people eating, dancing, laughing and gambling. Some kind of flaunty music was playing in the background, and everyone seemed to have the time of their lives.
After a quick visual check, Apollo spotted Starbuck and Boomer in the crowd. They were sitting at one of the tables, sampling the excellent food items that were apparently offered for free. And on Boomer's knees a small figure was sitting, eating some sort of exotic fruit, with an odd-shaped mechanical pet watching him.
"Boxey!" Serina called out.
Hearing her voice, the boy jumped off Boomer's knees and ran to her, throwing himself into her arms. Serina hugged him tightly.
"Oh, Boxey, I was so worried about you!"
"You don't hafta!" Boxey declared cheerfully. "I've found Muffy, you see, and he's been watching me ever since."
"Is that not reassuring?" Jolly muttered, but his eyes were on the incredible sight before them.
Serina followed his look at the banquet table spread generously along the length of the room. They went all the way, overflowing with what had to be succulent samples representing the best of the Twelve World cuisines. There was practically everything, from Aquarian seafood to that famous rich, heavy dark dessert that was called Libran Delight… despite being a Caprican delicacy. And wine and ale and all sorts of fruits that had ever grown on any of the Twelve Worlds.
It smelled wonderful and reminded her of how hungry she had been for so long… how hungry they all had been, ever since the Destruction.
"Captain!" Starbuck came towards Apollo, his hands held out in welcome.
Other eaters turned around to look. Serina could count at least a dozen Colonial warriors among them, fuel-searching mission obviously forgotten in the glorious abundance of food. Apollo's eyebrows drew together in a manner that reminded her eerily of the Commander.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, sounding every bit as suspicious as Serina felt.
Starbuck looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean? Good fortune's smiling on us, that's what it is."
"It's like nothing we could've dreamed of," the long, spidery Ensign Greenbean, whose true name probably only Colonel Tigh knew, explained. "They've got everything we need, and plenty of it."
"And they're happy to share, too," Boomer added, but there was some doubt in his deep voice, despite all evidence on the contrary.
"It sounds like Elysium," Serina said, her voice not as sure as her words. Her hugging of Boxey was composed of equal parts of joy and protection.
"Yes, it does," Apollo said, his keen eyes inspecting the lavishness of the room warily.
The Ovion Queen turned to him, her bulbous eyes gleaming yellow like a pair of lamps.
"We are a communal order from birth," she declared with the help of the translator. "We all work. We all share. There is no competition, no jealousy, no conflict. Only peace and order."
"Perpetual happiness," Apollo observed. His voice was dripping with sarcasm. Serina wondered whether the Queen had perceived the irony of his inflection.
"Happiness is the goal of an immature order," the Queen replied. "All pursue it. Few have it. None can sustain it. The Ovion is content. It is better."
Serina stole a glance at Apollo and could see the doubt in his eyes; a doubt that was a match for her own feelings.
"It seems to work for you," she said to the Queen.
"For countless millennia, it has been so," Lotay answered in a patronizing manner that came to full effect, even through the translator. "Now, join us. Be our guests. Be well fed, well entertained. What you need, merely ask for it. Be content."
There was something almost hypnotic in the singsong translator voice; Serina had to shake her head to free it from a dizziness that had crept upon her, unnoticed. She heard as if through thick fog Starbuck's bragging about the attractions of the place, including the chancery several levels above them.
"Chancery," Apollo repeated with an eyeroll. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Perhaps because you know me all too well?" Starbuck replied breezily. "Well, I'm on my way back, now that I had some sustenance."
"Lieutenant Starbuck, there are people starving back on our ships, in case you've forgotten," Apollo said icily. Starbuck waved off his reprimand.
"I know, I know, Captain. Ease off. These people are assembling food for us right now. And fuel. Our problems are solved."
Apollo wasn't as easily blinded as the average warrior, though.
"It sounds good, Starbuck, but…" he began, but Starbuck interrupted him.
"But nothing, Captain. C'mon, have you ever tasted this orange wine?"
"I'll pass for the moment," Apollo's face reminded stony.
Starbuck shrugged and sauntered off. The Ovion Queen retreated to her own chambers a few microns later, leaving them to their entertainment. Apollo looked at Serina askance.
"What do you think of this?"
"I don't like it," she admitted. "Maybe it's just because I'm hungry, but this place makes me dizzy. And these Ovions give me the creeps, especially their Queen. Their generosity, it all seems too good to be true."
"There's certainly more meaning to all this than she's willing to exhibit," Apollo agreed. "I wonder what it may be. And I almost sensed a tone of command in her invocation to enjoyment. She sounded like a Bliss dealer. Didn't you sense the same?"
"I'm not sure what I sensed," Serina admitted, "but whatever it was, it was cloying. I have a very bad feeling about this. Please, can we go back to the ship? I want to get out here, it's not safe!"
"Well, if that's what you really want…" Apollo sounded a little doubtful, but she nodded eagerly. She desperately wanted to return aboveground. To be in the comforting, though spare, confines of the Galactica
Some of that despair must have been mirroring on her face, because Apollo gave in.
"All right," he said. "Father wanted a detailed report about the situation down here. Why don't we go back and tell him everything we've seen; and then put on some nicer clothes and come down again?"
Serina nodded. She'd agree to anything, as long as it got her off the planet. After some hesitation, she also agreed to leave Boxey there, entrusting him to the most reliable Lieutenant Boomer. The boy seemed to enjoy himself more than ever since she'd picked him up from the street on Caprica; and besides, they were about to return for him anyway.
On the small viewscreen by Commander Adama's desk, the image of the planet Carillon appeared benign; and now that she'd gained some much-needed distance, Serina found she was able to talk about her experiences rationally. Which she did, in minute detail.
"Our experiences have confirmed the wisdom of your decision to bring the Fleet here, Commander," she finished.
"Not only can we replenish food and supplies easily, but we'll obtain enough Tylium to provide the entire Fleet, for quite some time, it seems," Apollo added.
"But?" Adama asked. "There's definitely a but behind all these encouraging figures. I can hear it in your voice," he lifted the electronic notebook with Apollo's report briefly. "What is it?"
"The Ovions," Apollo admitted. "They're a species I've never met before. I cannot decide whether we should trust them or not. I mean, where – or what – are they? Where did they come and when? Carillon used to be a human outpost, a mining expedition originating from Piscera. How did the Ovions get here and take over the mines?"
"Those are the questions I've been asking myself," Adama said, "so I've asked Colonel Tight to do some research work. He's nothing if not thorough; so let's hope he's found something."
That was a very accurate description of his executive officer, who appeared a few microns later, looking troubled… which didn't really surprise anyone. A man with an overgrown sense of responsibility, Tigh always found something to worry about. Especially if his well-founded concerns could be written down in reports.
"Nothing can be as bad as you look, Tigh," Adama said in fond exasperation. "What's happened?"
"Well, sir, I've been examining our military intelligence on this Carillon outpost," Tigh began.
Adama frowned. "I didn't know we had any – beyond our exploration for fighter fuel," he said.
"That's the disquieting part," sir, "Tigh answered. It was Baltar's people who engineered that expedition. They declared the Tylium too minimal for mining, and our military intelligence is based on that report."
"And now we find one of the largest Tylium mining operations in this entire galactic quadrant, operated by an alien species we've never heard of before," Apollo said slowly. "It seems a bit too… convenient to be a coincidence."
"Exactly," his father agreed. "So the mystery is, what's behind such a huge mining operation? There's no local food source to feed the labourers; whatever they eat, it must be bringing it from who knows how far."
"They appear to have plenty of human food to share," Serina said, only know realizing how unlikely that was. Why would the insectoids keep so much human food? Why the whole wonderland resort?
"Some of our people are getting downright obese," Apollo supplied grimly.
Adama nodded. "Yes. And there's another mystery. From what the two of you have told me, there seems to be no connection the Ovion workers underground and the resort on the surface, and yet there has to be some connection. They wouldn't run such an Elysium without a very good reason; it's not a cheap establishment."
"Do you suspect a tie-in with the Cylon Empire?" Tigh asked.
"Where Baltar's involved, I suppose I suspect everything," Adama replied with a weary sigh. "Consider this: why didn't we ever hear about the Ovions? They seem a highly sophisticated people. How comes they have never ventured into our space? Many other, non-human races have."
"Because they've lived within Cylon territory perhaps," Tigh said slowly. "We know the Cylons tolerate such races that accept their overlordship and are willing to live by their rules in order to survive. Perhaps they're a slave race; or perhaps they're actively allied to the Cylons."
"Which would mean they might already be here when Baltar's people surveyed the planet," Apollo suggested. "Perchance the mine had already been running for yahrens by then."
"Let's not jump to conclusions before we'd have sound proof for anything," Adama said soothingly; then he looked at his exec. "You've had no reports of anything odd, or out of the ordinary? "
Tigh shook his head. "No, sir. The people are having the time of their lives… which is another thing that worries me."
"How so?" Adama asked.
"Uri has everyone in the Fleet breaking in the bulkheads to get down to the surface, and none of them are volunteering for work details, either," the Colonel explained darkly.
The Commander frowned… then he shrugged. "Well, perhaps he does have a point. Perhaps we could allow some of our people to visit the surface. In small members… an orderly rotation." Tigh cleared his throat. "What's wrong, Tigh?"
"I'm afraid it's too late for cautious plans, sir," his exec replied. "Uri's already authorized visitor permits to half our population."
"Half the population!" Apollo exclaimed. "Father, you have to countermand those orders immediately!"
"He can't," Tigh told him sourly. "As a member of the Quorum, Uri has the right to make certain decisions. Non-military ones, at least. Of course, if your father had stayed on President…"
"Don't rub it in, Colonel," the Commander sighed. "Well, we'll have to do what we still can to stem the tides. How are the work parties coming?"
"Reasonably well," Tigh admitted. "Food and fuel are being distributed between the most densely populated ships, thinning out towards the smaller ones."
"All right, Colonel. Carry on."
"Father, you can't allow this to go on any longer!" Apollo protested, as soon as Tigh had left. "Uri can't be allowed so much political licence; and it's dangerous to send so many people down to the surface."
"Perhaps," Adama said. "It can also speed up things for us, though. Consider this: bringing up food from the planet and distributing it among the ships would take time. More time than hungry, desperate people may be willing to wait. If they're down on Carillon and eat their fill, it will leave us the necessary time to stock up our resources."
"If there will be anyone left to bring up those resources," Apollo replied dryly.
The Commander shrugged. "There's always the military. They are, at least, under our control; and that way we can make sure that both food and fuel would be distributed evenly."
"Yeah," Apollo admitted. "With all the politicians out of the way, we might actually get the chance to do something useful."
"My thoughts exactly," his father agreed with a faint smile.
Suddenly, Serina almost felt sorry for Sire Uri. Almost. Had the Leonid truly expected an old war daggit like the Commander to roll over and do his bidding? Could he really have been that delusional?
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in!" the Commander called out. The sliding door retracted, allowing Athena to enter.
"Request permission to travel planetside, sir," she said.
Her father raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Why are you asking me? I thought Sire Uri was handing out permits like mushies on a small child's natal day celebration."
Athena lifted her chin in a manner so similar to that of her father's – or her brother's, as a matter of fact – that Serina had to suppress a smile. Male or female, the Adamans were truly a stock unto themselves.
"I wouldn't go down there with his blessing on a bet, Father," Athena declared. "And I won't go if you say no."
But despite her proud declaration, there was a deep sadness in her eyes. Adama must have seen it, too, because his answer was positive.
"It's all right, Athena. You might as well go. You need a short respite more than most; you've been working so hard."
"It's not respite I'm after tonight," Athena said, and something in the set of her jaw told Serina that she was very much on the warpath.
"Oh?" Lieutenant Starbuck again, then?" Serina asked, although there couldn't be much doubt about that.
"Maybe," Athena said with a tight smile that lacked any mirth.
"Yes, he's down there," Serina nodded, "and apparently discovered the chancery arcade at once."
"With Starbuck, a chancery like that mist have seemed his rightful gift straight from the Lords of Kobol themselves," Apollo added with a tolerant smile. "I thought you were mad at him."
"I am," the glint in Athena's eyes left no doubt about that.
"Then why…?" Apollo drifted off; then he suddenly nodded. "Oh, I think I can guess. That other woman you caught him with, that socialator… she's in one of Uri's visiting parties, isn't she?"
"Maybe," Athena repeated coldly.
Apollo grinned at her. "Well, hive her Hades."
Athena raised a finely-drawn eyebrow; very much in the manner her father had done microns ago. "Is that to be interpreted as an order, Captain?"
Apollo grinned wider. "Give them both Hades, Lieutenant!"
"Yes, sir!" Apollo smiled at the brisk way she turned on her heels and exited the room.
"This I have to see," he said. "Father, what would you think about me returning to the surface and taking a close look at the Elysium down there?"
"It certainly wouldn't do any harm," his father agreed, "but it could make Uri suspicious, unless…"
"Unless?" Apollo pressed. Adama glanced at Serina.
"Unless you arrived in proper company," he said. "Serina, my dear, do you believe you can bear another trip down to Carillon? You look rather… fatigued. Is everything all right with you? You've become deathly pale, all of a sudden."
"I'm sure it's just a temporary thing," Serina answered, although she did feel strangely weak and light-headed. "Now that we stopped running for a moment, things are catching up with me, I guess."
"Still, you shouldn't dismiss this out of the hand," Adama said, genuinely concerned. "Have a doctor take a look at you before you board the next shuttle. We'll be here for a while yet."
"Commander, it really isn't necessary," she protested. "Life Station is crowded as it is, with much more serious cases than my little fatigue. It will pass."
"Nonetheless, I insist," Adama said. "Make an appointment as soon as you can."
"I'll make the appointment," Apollo offered. "And I'll take her to Life Station myself. I don't think the doctors would refuse a request coming from you."
"No, I don't think so, either," the Commander smiled. Rank did have its privileges, and even though the last thing Serina wanted right now was meeting Patroclus again, she found it wiser not to argue with them.
Fortunately for her, Life Station turned out to be extremely busy indeed, with the new cases of food over-indulgence practically flooding them. So Serina reluctantly made an appointment for the time when they'd return from the planet surface, just to placate Apollo. Then she returned to her quarters, changed into something more proper for visiting a chancery and walked back to the shuttle bay, waiting for Apollo to take them back down with the Commander's own shuttle.
Sometimes it came in handy to be affiliated with the Strike Captain.
~TBC~