With the Weapons of a Woman
by Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction.
Author's notes: The intricacies of Ovion society are mostly my doing, as we've learned practically nothing about them in canon. A dodecada is a time span of twelve yahrens, as for some reason the Colonies seemed to think in sixes and twelves. Courtesy of Karen.
Chapter 12 – Trouble in Elysium
Originally, the last thing Serina would have wanted was to return to the surface. Carillon freaked her out, big time; as a newswoman of some experience, she could see through the fake illusions of an artificially constructed Elysium better than most people. The Elysium Carillon offered to the exhausted, half-starved refugees uncomfortably reminded her of the legend of the lotus eaters… even though she couldn't imagine any sound reason why the Ovions would want all these humans, so clearly alien to them, to remain here.
She had visited Tylium mines before. An update on the fuel situation had always been important for the network, and as the report from the mines had been an unpleasant trip, it had been the newbies who'd got assigned to it. Yet the Ovion mine on Carillon – what little she'd seen of it – was utterly different.
Its network of cells would have been an amazing phenomenon to anyone who'd expected the usual deep-sunk tunnels and shafts from a mining operation. Alone its seemingly infinite depths could make any human being dizzy… but it hadn't been the depths alone that had made her feel so uneasy. It was the Ovions themselves.
One could expect from an insectoid society to have a caste system – which the Ovions clearly did have. But Serina got the feeling that it went considerably deeper than just caste differences. The workers in those cells – living, presumably feeling creatures, after all – had moved like machines: evenly, mechanically, tirelessly. Perhaps that was their way to work… or perhaps they'd been heavily drugged or otherwise influenced.
The Ovion guards – clearly some sort of warrior caste, as they were at least a head taller than the workers – had stood way too near them, as if overseeing every action. Or looking for mistakes, so that they could mete out discipline. They were also armed to their hypothetical teeth.
The whole thing had the smell of slave labour about it, and Serina didn't like it. If she'd had the choice, she'd choose droids as the lesser evil, despite her misgivings. At least droids were simply machines… unless one made the foolish mistake of making them too smart. The last thing they needed would have been to create another homicidal machine race by accident.
Still, since Apollo needed to go back to the surface in order to keep his eyes open for his father's behalf – and since he needed an alibi for that – she was willing to accompany him one more time. She was wearing the long-skirted, lavender-blue dress, the one she'd got from Wardrobe, when she entered the chancery on Apollo's arm. It was a very… spectacular entrance.
She might have hated the colour, but she knew she looked gorgeous in the dress, as even the more fanatical of the gamblers glanced up from their tables to take a look at her. Those people who were not engaged at the various gambling tables could not get their fill of the food offered all along the room. The gambling itself, too, was more rancorous and joyous than any betting or playing activities she'd ever seen before.
"It seems that everyone is winning," she said in surprise.
"Perhaps Starbuck's luck is rubbing off on everybody," Apollo commented with a smile and nodded in the direction of a nearby table, where his best friend was riding a winning streak of epic proportions.
Serina shook her head in bewilderment. "It's a circus... a wonderland," she said. "Not even the Aquarian chanceries of Veii could come close to this one."
Which would be saying a lot. The chanceries of Veii had used to be fabled all across the Twelve Worlds.
"At least it's giving a lot of people the kind of relief break they've desperately needed since the Destruction," Apollo replied. Serina nodded.
"True. I just wish you'd find time to take a break for yourself. I've never seen anybody push himself as much as you do, and I have seen my fair share of dedicated career types. Even this," she gestured vaguely, "is work for you. It's not healthy."
"Some of us need to stay alert, to keep the others safe," Apollo protested, but she wasn't buying it.
"And if you break under the pressure, who's to keep us safe then?" she asked accusingly. "You need to learn how to relax, or it will end badly for you. Look at her," she nodded towards an elderly woman in a rich and rather tasteless dress who was so involved in dice play that her greying blonde hair had come free and was now hanging over her shoulders. "She knows how to have a good time."
Apollo looked at her in obvious amusement and simply shook his head.
"What?" Serina demanded. "Don't look at me so strangely. I am trying to have fun… but it's not easy to make the transfer. I'm exhausted. So much has happened, and this place gives me the creeps. I think it's all catching up with me at once."
"It's not that," Apollo explained. "I just happen to know that woman. It's Siress Blassie, and she's been known to always find a way to have a good time. But," he added dutifully, "I could take you to the guest quarters the Ovions have assigned to us if you don't feel up to the excitement."
Serina frowned, trying to figure out whether he was finally making his move or simply concerned about her health. But she didn't want to be separated from him. She didn't feel safe here… she didn't know why. Something seemed out of place; she just couldn't put her finger on it. However, her instincts as a newswoman were on alert.
"Let's stay here for a while," she said to Apollo, who simply nodded. "I'm going to have fun… I think. I want to sit here at one of these tables, where I can also keep an eye on Boxey."
Apollo smiled, although his eyes kept scanning their surroundings warily.
"Why don't we win a fortune, then?" he asked.
"Why don't we indeed, my beautiful Captain!" she replied coyly, smiling back at him. Then she took a seat at a nearby Trango table and bought some chips from the green-skinned, scaly humanoid who apparently served as the croupier.
She, too, won a few hundred cubits but grew bored with the game quickly and left the table after half a centare.
"When you simply can't lose, it isn't so much fun anymore," she explained with a shrug. "Besides, the air is getting too thick in here; it's hard to breathe."
"Let's go out into the garden, then," Apollo suggested, and she rose gladly to follow him.
The gardens of the resort seemed to extend to every direction behind the building, the various parts of them separated by fantastically cut brushes. The centrepiece of them, though, seemed to be a fountain, from which purple wine flew in the form of tiny waterfalls and fell back into a broad marble basin to be redirected back into the circulation. People scoped up portions of the liquid into golden goblets with broad handles, and then held the goblets over the tiny fires that encircled the basin. The result, based on the reactions of the crowd, seemed to be quite hefty.
"Do you want to try it?" Apollo asked.
Serina hesitated for a moment. The reaction of the people unsettled her for some reason she couldn't quite name.
"Perhaps just a little taste," she said. "This must be that grog Lieutenant Starbuck was so enthusiastic about."
They tried a sample and had to admit that the concoction was tantalising. It seemed to mix hot and cold in delicious bursts of taste. It also must have had some aphrodisiac effect, seeing how people who'd taken generous samples form it were flirting heavily… and not in words only. Serina pulled a face.
"Let's go somewhere else," she said. "This isn't any better than within the building."
Apollo agreed, and they walked down one of the side paths leading to a small, enclosed garden. There they sat down on a low bench, holding hands, and Serina rested her head on Apollo's shoulder. The music was muted out there; muted enough so that the water-play of the fountain in the middle of the garden – this time a regular one – could be heard. It was incredibly peaceful. Dangerously so.
"Feeling better?" Apollo asked quietly after a while.
Serina smiled. "I'm fine, Apollo, really," she raised her head for a moment, looking directly into his eyes; they were surprisingly warm.
"I care about you," he confessed in a low voice. "Fort he first time in my life, I know what all those poets have been talking about."
Serina was a little taken aback by his confession. After the disaster that had been her marriage with Boreas, she'd never accepted any emotional relationship with a man. Sex was fine, especially if such favours secured her a comfortable existence, but emotions… emotions were nothing but trouble. She learned not to trust them – either her own ones or those of her suitors.
And yet Apollo seemed so utterly honest, so serious – this might be her last chance to be truly loved. Even though she'd lost the ability to fall in love a long time ago, that didn't mean she was forbidden to accept love, did it?
"Write me a poem," she teased, touching her brow to Apollo's.
He smiled at her in that self-replecating manner of his. "You don't know what you're asking."
"Oh, I think I do," she said, laying her head on his shoulder again. "And it would mean to me more than you know," she added, before rising her head and kissing him chastely on the cheek. "I'll do better in private, I promise."
"Do you want me to find someplace private?" he asked, only half-joking.
"No," she said. "Not yet. Not here. There will be time enough for that later, or so I hope. Right now, we've got an assignment here; and besides, I'd hate to miss Athena's big entrée when she makes Lieutenant Starbuck to a leporid."
"No-one makes a leporid out of Starbuck easily," Apollo replied, "but this is one scene I want to see, too. Do you think we could go back now?"
"Sure," she said. "Let's hope we aren't too late already."
They found Starbuck where they had left him: in a far corner of the chancery hall, near an entertainment lounge, riding a winning streak that thwarted everything they'd seen before. A tall pile of golden cubits stood in front of him as he tossed another winning hand back onto the table.
"Let 'em ride again," he said, grinning, and pushed the cubits towards the dealer: a strangely leather-faced old man.
At the same time, the blonde Gemoni woman, the socialator Serina had seen at Life Station, appeared behind him, wearing a shoulder-free white dress with wrist frippery and rubbed herself against him in a manner that left absolutely no doubt about her intentions.
"Hello, Starbuck," she purred.
It was a cheap approach, really cheap. Serina felt strangely disappointed; a high-class socialator should have displayer more subtlety, she found. Of course, sometimes cheap worked better than any elaborate scheme, especially when the target was already interested and more than willing. Starbuck seemed content enough with her advances in any case, and turned to her, grinning.
"This must be my lucky night," he announced.
"Just might be," she replied in a low, sensuous voice and wrapped her arm around his neck, pressing up against his front.
"Sagan, I hope she won't frack him right here, in front of everyone," Serina commented dryly.
"He certainly seems eager enough," Apollo smiled. "But that's Starbuck for you. I've warned Athena that he cannot be tamed; she wouldn't listen. Nearly broke my nose, actually, for, and I quote, nosing around her love life."
And indeed, Starbuck didn't seem the least adverse to leave his unnatural winning streak behind for more… carnal pleasures. Serina was grateful that she'd let Boxey behind, in the company of the ever-reliable Lieutenant Boomer. She wouldn't want the boy to be subjected to such tasteless display. Apollo really should reconsider the company he keeps, she thought. There were things that definitely belonged to the private areas, not shown off publicly.
"Well, money isn't everything," Starbuck declared in the meantime, kissing the blonde socialator, completely undisturbed by the audience. "Have you checked the accommodations yet?"
She shook her head coyly. "Should I have?"
Starbuck threw her a positively lecherous grin. "Most of my unit is staying down on Carillon tonight. I thought it would be a waste if…"
She laid a finger across his lips and smiled in a manner that would have tempted a two-hundred-yahren-old Kobolian priest to mortal sin.
"I'll see what I can arrange," she promised and positively slinked away.
Starbuck stared after her with glassed-over ovine eyes. "Oh, yeah," he breathed.
Serina shook her head in exasperation. "What is it with your warriors and the mating heat anyway? What does he see in that little tramp?"
"She's available," Apollo replied cynically, "and she makes no demands, apparently. Starbuck can't deal very well with demands… or with permanent relationships. He's lost everything at about the age of six, including his memories, and if there's one thing growing up in orphanages had taught him, it's that nothing lasts. People would leave him sooner or later. Nobody wants to keep him forever."
"Except you," Serina commented softly.
Apollo nodded, his green eyes sad and serious. "Except me, yeah. I'd never had a friend quite like him; not even Boomer comes close. And as for him: I am the only family he has, even if it's only an honorary one."
"Yet you still didn't want him to court your sister," Serina reminded him with a certain degree of well-hidden satisfaction.
Apollo shrugged. "He's my best friend. I owe him my life several times and vice versa. That doesn't mean I'd agree with his lifestyle; I accept it as something that is an inherent part of him but I don't want Athena to share it."
"I'm afraid she might not care whether you approve or not," Serina answered, nodding towards the main entrance.
Apollo, who'd been watching Starbuck lit a fumarello and turn back to the game, glanced into the same direction… and was instantly thunderstruck. The grand entrée of Athena would have put any great media star to shame. She was wearing a dress that made Serina pale with envy at once: a sleeveless gown of such a pale rosé it almost seemed white, with a shawl of the same feather-light silk twisted loosely around her neck to balance out the depth of the cleavage. She wore her hair down, as always; it seemed to float around her bare shoulders like a mahogany cloud. The glittering of her eyes made it adamantly clear that she was on the warpath.
She walked up behind Starbuck and grabbed him at the cuff as one would grab the neck of a baby daggit. "Is this seat taken?"
Starbuck, clearly believing that it was his blonde companion returning, turned to her with a grin… and nearly choked on the smoke of his fumarello in the next moment. "Oh… erm…" he stuttered, "well… it's…"
She interrupted him with surprising gentleness. "Starbuck…"
Her tone seemed to surprise him indeed. "Yeah?"
"I came because I think I owe you an apology," she told him straightforward.
His surprise was even more genuine now. "You do?"
Serina was impressed. She hadn't expected Athena to launch such a frontal attack; but she had to admit that with a man who appeared as clueless as Starbuck, it might just work.
Athena nodded. "I believe so, yes. When you asked me to Seal with you, right after the Destruction, I turned you down. Told you I didn't want to care about anybody… especially you…"
"I vaguely recall you saying that," Starbuck answered slowly, his eyes wary and suspicious.
Athena rolled her eyes and touched the tip of his nose with uncharacteristic gentleness.
"Oh, come on! This Elysium is the perfect opportunity for us to be… open," she circled him playfully and pressed herself against his back in a shockingly similar manner as the socialator had done just microns ago, "and honest to one another."
"Yeah," Starbuck must have had the same flashback because he seemed extremely uncomfortable.
Athena circled him again and lifted his chin with one finger. "I hurt you. Admit it."
"Well…" the topic seemed to make Starbuck nervous like Hades.
Athena made big cervus-eyes at him. "Didn't you say that I was the only woman you'd ever really cared about?"
Serina stifled a laugher. "She certainly takes no prisoners tonight, does she?" she whispered.
"That's my baby sister for you," Apollo whispered back with almost proprietary pride. Serina withstand the urge to roll her eyes. These Adamans! Did they really think that willpower was the only thing they needed to get what they wanted?
Starbuck in the meantime, was somewhat… redundant to give a straight answer. Athena's look hardened as she said, "Well, did you say that or not?"
Ouch! Bad tactic, applying pressure in such an awkward situation, Serina thought, wincing. Starbuck glanced to the side, expecting Cassiopeia to return any micron now.
"Yeah, I… erm… I may have said that…" he began.
Athena's eyes narrowed, turning to ice rapidly. "You may have said that?" she repeated coldly and turned around to storm off.
"No!" Starbuck back-pedalled hurriedly. "No, Athena, wait! What…what I meant to say is that… I've had to shut all those feelings out of my mind to… to avoid any more pain than I've already suffered…" he took her hand and kissed it gallantly. She smiled and caressed his face but Serina could clearly see the ice in her eyes still, even if Starbuck did not.
"Poor Starbuck," Athena all but purred. "So lonely. So much in need of a little comfort. I think, under those circumstances I can forget your little peccadillo with the socialator. I have to accept part of the blame for you looking for comfort elsewhere, I guess."
Starbuck's eyes widened in surprise as realization hit him like a Cylon laser torpedo. "It was you! You turned on the fracking steam! I should…"
"Should what?" Athena asked sweetly. "Didn't you deserve it?"
"No, of course I didn't deserve it!" Starbuck exclaimed. "It was you who…"
"I only asked you for a little time," Athena interrupted. "Starbuck, I'd just lost my mother, my baby brother, my home… a home that, by the way, you'd shared with me, with us, for yahrens, whenever you came back with Apollo for a furlong. I thought you'd understand that I needed to come to terms with hat loss… instead of hopping into a launching tube with any socialator that happens to come your way."
"That's pretty bigoted, and you know that!" Starbuck protested. "A socialator is not a common…"
"I don't care if she's an uncommon anything," Athena interrupted with an expression on her face that was positively glacial. "My brother, although you're his best friend, warned me about you. I told him he was mistaken; that you were capable of fidelity if you'd choose to. But it seems that he was right and I was wrong, doesn't it?"
To his credit, Starbuck at least tried to look contrite. "Athena, I'm so sorry!" he hugged her; but at the same time, over her shoulder, he also spotted Cassiopeia approaching. "Oh, no…"
"What a miserable timing," Apollo commented softly. "This is like angling towards a tilted deck for a crash landing. Perhaps if Starbuck crawls under the table while the girls fight it out between them, he may come out of this mess with his skin mostly intact."
Cassiopeia, in the meantime, reached Starbuck and Athena and said with a falsely charming smile, "Excuse me, I believe you're occupying my seat."
Athena turned towards her with a studied deliberation. "Your seat?" she asked elegantly, with so much patrician superiority that only the daughter of an old Kobolian family could master.
Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow that was probably meant to be superior, too, but compared with the natural-born and bred thing, it only seemed cheap. She stood no chance against Athena when it came to true social graces. Some things one just couldn't learn from books… or from frequent dealings with the aristocracy. One either had it in one's blood – or one didn't. Cassiopeia clearly belonged to the latter category. But at least she tried.
"Pretence of maturity doesn't become you, little girl," she said haughtily; then she turned back to Starbuck nonchalantly. "I've got good news."
"Huh?" Starbuck made a face like an ovine, clearly not having a clue how to react. Serina didn't blame him. This was a situation where he couldn't win, no matter what.
Cassiopeia held up a hand. From one finger, a golden key dangled on a glistening chain. A very elaborately wrought key. "I've got us the key to the Royal Suite," she said triumphantly.
"As such a turn is politely know in Fleet parlance, this is the moment where the felger hits the fan," Apollo commented softly. Serina grinned, having heard the much less polite version of it already.
"I wonder how the Lieutenant winds himself out of this felger," she said.
"I'm not sure he can, not this time," Apollo replied, shaking is head in helpless laughter. "Only you, Starbuck. Only you can get yourself this deep in felger, without actually trying."
At the same micron Athena snatched the key from Cassiopeia's fingers. "Why, thank you, we do appreciate it," and she walked away, looking back over her shoulder. "You coming, Starbuck?"
Starbuck looked from one woman to another in thinly-veiled panic. "Erm, see… listen, I've got this really hot streak going on here…"
Athena turned back, with a falsely excited smile, and crossed her arm. "Oh. I see."
"Yes, I do, too," Cassiopeia said coldly, then she glared at Starbuck. "Honey, your streak wasn't that godforsaken pile of cubits on that table. It used to be here, with me… and it's just gone cold."
"That's right, you tell him!" Athena scowled in complete agreement.
"Hey!" Starbuck protested intelligently.
"Forget it, Lieutenant," Cassiopeia said. "A socialator of a certain class knows when to bow out. Well, have a good time, you two. And next time, it's office sales for you, too, Lieutenant."
She whirled around and angrily pushed her way through the crowd. Athena glared daggers at Starbuck. "Oh, Starbuck, the Royal Suite…"
"Yeah?" he asked hopefully.
"Forget it!" Athena threw the key down on the card table, pushed the chair over and followed Cassiopeia's wake. Starbuck let out a long-held breath and started collecting his cubits, while the dealer pushed his newest winnings towards him.
"That went well," Apollo commented cynically.
Serina shrugged. "What did you expect? No woman likes being double-teamed. Your sister is a fighter; and I'm sure the socialator hasn't quitted for good, either. They are both letting him squirm on his leash before they pounce again… and then it's gonna be really ugly."
"That's not a very comforting perspective," Apollo sighed. But before he could have said anything else, a seriously concerned Boomer showed up and made his way across the crowd to them.
"We need to talk," he said grimly.
There was an urgency in the Leonid's voice they could not ignore. Even Starbuck, sorely disappointed by the outcome of what he thought would be his "lucky night", stuffed his winnings into his pockets and followed them away from the gambling tables and into the chancery hall's entertainment lounge.
They got a small table at the side wall, near the stage, where a trio of small, springy-haired, humanoid singers with oversized heads was currently performing. They were singing a song that bore no likeness to any kind of music Serina had ever heard – and considering that she had started her media career as the host of talent shows before she could have switched to a more… serious department, was saying a lot. They sang in a high-pitched and raucous fashion, but not without a certain sweetness in a deeper timbre undercutting the melody.
Starbuck was clearly quite charmed by their performance and could not take his eyes off them. "What do you know about the entertainment?" he asked Boomer.
The Leonid glanced towards the stage and said in a voice that completely lacked any interest. "Tucanas."
Which, apparently, didn't say Starbuck a thing. "Is that the name of the group or their species?"
"They came from the planet Tucana," Apollo intervened, in a manner of a wary Academy lecturer who'd long given up hope that his students were actually listen to him for a change. "Which, as you'd know for yourself, had you ever paid attention to Political Sciences during your yahrens at the Academy, has been wiped out by the Cylons some three dodecadas ago. Only a handful of them have survived; mostly those who'd already worked on other planets as entertainers. Am I right?" he looked at Serina for confirmation.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Apollo, but I never heard of them before. Interesting sound, though – and sort of attractive, in an odd way."
"Very odd," Boomer said darkly.
Starbuck frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
The Leonid's answer was cryptic. "Look closely."
Starbuck gave the singers a good, hard look – and so did Serina, understanding suddenly what Boomer meant. Each of the Tucan women – if they were, in fact, women – had two mouths, and all of the mouths were engaged in the song. No wonder they were able to create such a bizarre sound.
"They're incredible," Serina commented.
Boomer nodded. "Yeah, that they are. And the noise level in here makes it hard for any of those fracking Ovions to overhear us... or to read lips."
"Lips?" Starbuck asked, a little confused. "Oh, you mean our lips! Look, are you sure you aren't imagining things? Why would anybody want to read our lips?"
"Why indeed?" Apollo said softly. "Why establishing this Elysium here, on such a godforsaken outpost? Why feeding us, entertaining us, keeping us down on the surface?"
"Speaking of which," Serina asked, glancing around nervously and spotting quite a few Orion slaves in the crowd, slurring after their nondescript duties, "it would not harm to pretend that we are being entertained. At least we should buy a drink, or we might raise suspicions."
"That can be arranged," Starbuck dumped a handful of cubits onto the table, selected one and inserted it in a small pedestal at the centre. In the next micron, a cup of the infamous grog materialized on the pedestal. He picked it up and handed it to Serina with a mocking half-bow. "Your drink, my lady!"
"Where did you get all those cubits?" Boomer asked.
Starbuck looked at him as one would look at a particularly slow-minded child. "Gambling," he explained patiently. "In case you haven't realized yet, you can't lose here. The cards are simply falling my way."
"That's what I'm talking about," Boomer said. "Everybody's winning. Have you ever been to a place where you can't lose a single cubit?"
"No," Starbuck admitted lightly, "but then I've never been here before, either."
"Starbuck, nobody else I know of has ever been here either," Apollo intervened. "Don't you find that just a little bit strange? I know, this place is a little out of the way, but…"
"A little out of the way?" Starbuck repeated, outraged. "We almost died to get here!"
"Exactly," Apollo said. "We almost starved, because of the fuel problem, because of the contaminated food, and because we spent a lot of time crawling as slow speed for the other ships to keep up with us. And yet half the people here are from our home planets – Caprica, Tauron, Sagittara… I eve met Librans and Aquarians here! And none of them knows about the Cylon attack, none of them has any idea that the colonies are gone."
"When I tried to tell them what had happened, they thought I was joking," Boomer added darkly.
Starbuck shrugged. "Understandable. It isn't a very credible story when you're sitting in a joint like this."
"Yeah, but how did they get here in the first place?" Apollo asked. "Someone must have transported them here, before the Cylon invasion. How did they learn about this place? No communication has been going in or out, ever since we arrived, and I'm fairly certain that it has been the case for a very long time."
"And another thing," Boomer added. "Not only have we never heard of this so-called resort before; no-one has ever encountered Ovions, right?"
"They aren't even mentioned in the Galactopedia," Apollo told him, "which is near impossible. "Every known species, alive or extinct, is mentioned in the Galactopedia."
"I've asked around among our biggest gossips," Boomer continued. "Nobody, but not a single one of them got a word of publicity about this most efficient gambling den of the galactic quadrant. How is it that all these people come here but never get home again and told everybody about it?"
"Would you tell everybody you found a gold mine?" asked Starbuck with a dismissive shrug. "I mean, who knows hop long they're gonna keep it up? There must be some kind of introductory offer, but I can think why they keep this from the military… hey, those girls are amazing!"
"Forget the girls," Boomer scowled. "Talk to me. Did you pick up any gossip around here?"
Starbuck was barely listening to him. He was still staring at the singers, despite Boomer's worries. "Like what?" he asked.
"Like why everyone eats so much in this place perhaps?" Boomer suggested. "I heard some have already ended up at Life Station with signs of serious over-indulgence."
"Why not?" Starbuck dismissed his concerns. "The food is practically free, and it is sensational, like… hey, would you listen to that? They're unbelievable!"
During their argument, one of the singers had moved downstage for what sounded like a riff solo, while, while the others provided a complex harmony. Serina was a bit surprised that only six mouths could perform such intricate beauty… then she realized that the soloist was only using her upper mouth at the moment to carry the melody, the sweetness of which made her shiver and the little hairs on her bare arms rise.
"What is unbelievable is how blind you can be!" Boomer was clearly frustrated with his best friend. "We may be lucky if we last till tomorrow morning!"
Apollo stiffened in his seat. "What are you talking about, Boomer?"
Boomer lowered his voice until it could barely be heard in the overall noise. "People are disappearing."
"Disappearing?" Apollo repeated, stunned. "Who? When?"
"I'm not sure," Boomer admitted. "But I've picked up some talk, some strange stuff about guests who just drop out of sight," he turned to Starbuck. "Remember that blonde Taurus we met just as we found this place? She never showed up again."
Starbuck rolled his eyes. "Boomer, she went on a moonlight tour! And so did the others, I'm sure about that. This is a big place, Boom-boom, and people usually have some kind of tour to go on before leaving for home."
"Home?" Boomer said incredulously. "What home? I just told you, nobody every heard of anybody going home! And what home are they gonna go to, now that the Colonies are all destroyed?"
"You ask too many questions," Starbuck waved off his concerns again.
"And you're not acting yourself," Boomer returned angrily. "Something's gotten to you, Starbuck – or are you on Bliss or what? I'm telling you, something is not right around here."
"Well, they are," Starbuck interrupted him. "Listen to them!"
The trio was building up to their big finish. The two Tucanas singing harmony hit a sustained chord, while the soloist's voice rose… and rose… and rose… Then, just at the final beat, her lower mouth came open and emitted a low, resounding note that not only put an unbelievable capper on the piece of music but also smashed the glass on their table to pieces.
The audience broke into tumultuous applause. Flabbergasted, Starbuck rose from his seat, shouting, "I gotta talk to 'em!"
Boomer looked like someone who wanted to hit the tabletop with his head. "I don't believe this! Has he gone completely mad now?"
He rose to run after Starbuck, who was rushing towards the stage, trying to catch the attention of the Tucana singers, but Apollo caught his arm.
"Let him go; he's not thinking straight."
"That's fracking right, he's not!" Boomer snapped. "Half the galaxy is trying to kill us, people are disappearing from here, and all he cares about is to manage a trio of alien singers?"
"I assume there has to be something in the drinks here," Apollo said grimly. "I'll go after him. You go back to the Galactica and make a report to my father; I'd rather not talk about those things through the comm system. We never know who might be listening."
"We must find Boxey first," Serina clutched the edge of the tabletop nervously. "Where is he?"
"He's with Jolly, in the banquet room," Boomer told her. "Don't worry; nothing but the Captain's direct order would remove Jolly from those tables. But you should hurry up, Apollo, before Starbuck decides to go on an interstellar cruise with those singers."
"He won't have a chance," Serina glanced at the stage and grinned involuntarily. "Sire Darius apparently beat him at trying to engage the girls. Somehow I have the feeling that we'll meet this group again – on board of one of the Aquarian ships."
"In that case," Apollo said in relief, "let's pick Starbuck up and find Boxey, before we decide what we'll do next."
On their way to find Boxey, they passed the central garden with the grog fountain again. There they caught a glimpse of Sire Uri, clad in his most festive official robe. He was fixing himself one of those addictive drinks and talking with one of the other Quorum members – namely Sire Lobe, the representative of Piscera.
"I had a long talk with their queen… what's her name again, Lory, Lotty… something like that," Uri was saying, just as Apollo and Serina reached the garden. "She's very wise and generous – even attractive, if you can adjust your thinking to one of these insect creatures being attractive at all. She said, she was happy that we seemed to like it here so much."
Lobe, a fairly simple man who went in constant awe of Uri, more based on what the Leonid once had been than what he was now, nodded in agreement.
"What is there not to like?" he said. "Have you seen the guest quarters? They're as opulent as the palace of the lost Kings of Aquaria, and endless. Endless. If we just could take this planet with us, we wouldn't need to seek out any mythical place to settle on."
"Why would we need to take it with us?" Uri asked softly. "That's exactly what I talked to the queen about. Elysium, the fulfilment of our wildest dreams, could not be better. There's the food, all the necessities to feed our people, and the Ovions can produce it in mass quantities. With the Ovions, we also have the support of a culture quite content to be subservient to our needs. When I asked the queen if we could stay here, she said they would be happy to welcome us, expect for one thing."
"And that would be?" Lobe fixed himself another grog, his eyes getting a little glassy from the stimulants the drink contained.
Uri shrugged. "She said they are a peaceable race, and they fear our weaponry. Justifiably so, it appears to me."
"It does?" Sire Lobe was clearly too far gone to lead any sensible conversation but went on nonetheless.
Uri nodded. "What would you think, if a superior race came down out of the skies and threatened us with superior weaponry? I mean, you can see their point. And anyway, here we are far away from the Cylons so as not to post a threat to them. At least we ought not to pose a threat, and would not, if we calmed the Ovions' fears by giving up our weaponry, our awesome war machines."
Apollo and Serina exchanged shocked looks. It was not that Uri had spoken so preposterously that surprised them; it was the fact that Lobe seemed to be in complete agreement, and a few people all around them were nodding their assent to the idea."
"Do you realize what you're saying, Sire Uri?" Apollo said, stepping forward into the centre of the councillor's group. Serina stayed at the edge of the garden, trying to focus her eyes on the scene before her and to remember every word that was being spoken.
"Ahh..." Uri said with a benevolent smile. "Our young warrior or should I say saviour. The son of our god-like commander, who can count back his ancestors to the Lords of Kobol themselves, can't he? Captain, I was just pointing out that this planet offers us a marvellous opportunity."
"I can imagine," Apollo replied dryly. "The opportunity to be murdered for good and all by the Cylons."
"If they even bothered with us, which they would not," Uri said confidently.
Apollo rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Sire Uri, they destroyed our homeworlds!"
The councillor raised a hand in a lecturing manner. "They attacked us, I would remind you, because we were a threat to their order. Here, isolated from them, we pose no threat, or would not, if we disposed of ships and weapons. What do you think of my proposal?"
"I'd hope it's the grog," Apollo replied. Uri raised his goblet in a toast.
"Well," he said. "Tonight, it might very well be the grog, but there's always tomorrow."
Apollo whirled around and walked out of the circle. Taking Serina's arm, he led her along a garden path back towards the chancery.
"Come on," he said. "Let's find Boxey and return to the Galactica. Father must learn about this immediately."
"You truly believe that anyone would take that proposal seriously?" Serina asked doubtfully.
"Maybe not," Apollo allowed. "Not in the sombre light of the day, at least. But you could see, too, all those people nodding right along with what he said."
Serina had to admit that that was, unfortunately, very true. So they headed to the chancery again, to find Boxey. It was beyond the boy's bedtime anyway.
~TBC~