The very sound of his voice could make a man's blood run cold; however, that was nothing compared to actually seeing Count Iblis standing in the centre of the crypt, freed from his recently imposed celestial prison, and in possession of the Oculus. Caradoc was practically prostrate, babbling incoherently, bowing down before the demon, which made about as much sense as Mother Teresa opening a brothel in the basement of the Motherhouse of the Missionaries of Charity back in the twentieth century. Johnson had tumbled over insensate . . . which, despite the situation, was actually an improvement from his usual surly self.
"Iblis!" Apollo cursed, bursting forward, wading through a sea of bejewelled bones, unmindful of the rashness of his actions.
Dayton and Ryan lunged into action, grabbing the impetuous young colonel and hauling him back.
"Whoa!" Ryan shouted. "Easy, son! Not a good first move!"
"Who do you think you are . . . Starbuck in berserker mode?" Dayton demanded, giving him a shake. "Cool it, Colonel! That's an order!"
"Let me go!" Apollo snarled. "He's done enough . . ."
"Yes, let him go." Iblis smiled malignantly. "I told you once you would forfeit your life if you threatened me again, Apollo. Do let him go, Commander Dayton."
"We freed Iblis!" Lia gasped raggedly behind them, her face ashen as she emerged from behind the shrine. "I can't . . . I can't believe it!"
"I thought I told you to stay put, Ensign!" Dayton reprimanded her.
"What are you?" asked Malus suddenly, much to Dayton's surprise. "Commander, I've scanned this being over and over again, but I can detect nothing . . . organic. Both my auditory and optical sensors confirm a presence, yet he is curiously not really here. It's a conundrum." Then his head jerked up sharply. "Are you the being that tried to hurt Starbuck?"
Iblis laughed derisively. "I am your Master and Maker, you stupid wind-up toy."
"I must correct you, for I am not intellectually compromised—especially by human standards—nor do I wind up . . ." began Malus.
"Sixth nested memory file!" said Iblis, staring at the IL. "Execute instruction sixty-six." Malus stopped. After a moment or two he shut down, going entirely dark. He slumped forward and was still.
"What in . . ." began Jolly.
"Oh, great! Just tell me we don't have to carry him out of here!" Ryan whined. "These things aren't made of aluminium alloy, you know. He weighs a bloody ton!"
"What gives you the right . . ." Lia exploded, shaking with silent fury.
"Do what thou wilt," replied Iblis with a smile. "Words to live by, my dear. As I did with the cyborg, I shall do with you!"
"The catch being that we don't have correlating memory files," Baker calmly pointed out. "Might be a bit trickier with us."
"Are you so certain? You foolish mortals!" Iblis scoffed. "You think you can change destiny! Your pathetic attempts to smite me are amusing at best."
"Amusing, huh?" Dayton replied. "How's it going with the fire and brimstone, Cockroach? Had a good time burning in hell, did we?"
Iblis smiled. It was the smile of a killer. Dayton felt a sick chill as he remembered that face from a day in Chicago, so long ago . . .
"Did you really think my daughter, a mere child, could defeat me? Fools! It was but a ploy to give you the overconfidence that would deliver you all here. To put the final phase of my plan in place. To complete the cycle."
"Cycle?" Apollo echoed.
"Look around, Apollo. Your people have been here before, toying with humanity. When they arrived here from Kobol, they found Earthmen to be inferior creatures, largely egalitarian hunter-gatherers, not worthy of Kobollian brotherhood. Instead, they manipulated and enslaved them as the inferior brainless vermin they were and still are." He looked down at Johnson. "The Kobollians became the gods of Earth mythology, dominating mankind as they secretly still do today." Iblis waved a hand at the hieroglyphics and illustrations on the wall, which now blazed with light from within. Battles between two great forces were depicted there. "Ultimately, they brought the vengeance of the Great Powers down upon all of humanity."
"What is he talking about?" Mufti demanded, his gaze torn between the enigmatic being that had suddenly appeared and the discovery of this hall of records. Even more information about the ancients who had inhabited Mars countless centuries ago was hidden within this inner chamber.
"Look to your ancient records, Dr. Mufti," Iblis replied smugly. "The Sumerian Eridu Genesis, the Akkadian Enuma Elish, the Babylonian Epic of Gilgamesh, the Jewish Book of Genesis, the Islamic Quran, and many more. Epic tales of the same catastrophe that reshaped the Earth, and indeed the entire star system after the last time the Kobollians came visiting." He smiled smugly. "Do you not sense they made poor houseguests?"
"Who are you?" Mufti demanded, his voice barely above a squeak.
"Do you not know?" asked Iblis haughtily. "Or are you merely afraid to believe?"
"To most he's known as the Prince of Darkness, Doctor. He calls himself Count Iblis," Dayton said.
"But his friends call him Satan," Ryan added, his eye drawn away as a shimmering light began to appear. "Not that he has any. And, I hate to mention it in mixed company, but he lies like a sidewalk."
"Ah, right on time." Iblis smiled, fanning out a hand as Ama appeared in the chamber in a flowing white gown, much like his own. Her long white hair was, as usual, unruly, as it spread out around her face like a deranged nimbus. "Greetings, daughter of mine," he said mockingly. "Did you miss me?"
"Like crab lice," replied the Empyrean necromancer, her gaze sweeping the company before settling hungrily on her goddaughter. She held out her hands. Lia ran to her and was soon enfolded in the woman's embrace. For a moment, their foreheads touched, before Ama held her at arms length once again. "Hush, my child," Ama murmured, reaching up and seemingly plucking the young woman's Empyrean talisman from the air. She kissed it once before placing the talisman back where it belonged.
"I'm so sorry, Ama!" Lia cried, gripping the talisman that was once again resting against her chest. "I didn't know . . ."
"How could you, dearest?" Ama replied, before shushing her again and pushing her gently towards Jolly. "I believe you have a thing or two that doesn't belong to you, Count Iblis. If you surrender them, I promise to take it easy on you this time." She held out her hand expectantly, walking towards him.
"I admire your spirit." Iblis chuckled at her brazenness. "The Oculus was given to me freely, whelp."
"And stolen from Eirys," Ama replied with a derisive look at Caradoc as she came to a stop before him. "I'm sure it amused you to defile such a man as the Angylion general, especially after witnessing Baltar's redemption." Caradoc looked up at her with no recognition, his eyes dull and lifeless.
"I'm glad you didn't miss the subtle irony, Daughter," Iblis remarked. "So many others would have."
"This is not the venerable Llyr, Caradoc," Ama told the Angylion, putting a finger under his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. "It is the Mystic, Iblis, who enslaved your race as Odreds. Who brought the Cylons to your world, and at whose door every Angylion death can be laid. See him for the monster he truly is."
Confusion reigned in the former general's eyes as he looked over at Iblis uncertainly.
"He is human. He sees only what he wants to see, Daughter," Iblis told her. "As for the Oculus, Eirys was its Keeper. I am its Master."
Dayton tensed. The Oculus was supposed to erase any supernatural limitations placed on Iblis by his kind. It would grant him virtual omnipotence, the sort of limitless power that before now the Earthman had only associated with God-Almighty. He had to level the playing field or else . . .
"Don't, Mark-Dayton," Ama was suddenly beside him, her hand on his arm, her grip as solid and unrelenting as ever for a supposedly ascended Being of Light. "He will kill you as surely as he did millions of your brothers thousands of yahrens ago."
"Is that what the Elders told you, Daughter?" Iblis asked, his regal face twisting in disgust. "It was mankind's own conceit and hubris that destroyed civilization as they knew it on Earth and Mars millennia ago. Their own pride and arrogance. Pah! Maggots writhing in their self-importance, dreaming of power that was never theirs to wield!"
"Yes, I suppose you would prefer to remember it that way," Ama sniffed indelicately. "But I have seen what truly happened. I have looked back through the ages and the truth is somewhat different. Isn't it?"
"Tell us, Ama," Dayton asked her.
"We have no time for that, Mark-Dayton." She turned, pointing to another smaller chamber barely discernible in light of the feast for the senses in the crypt. A sudden eerie light illuminated it from within. "Within is the canopic chest. Atop that you will find a much smaller box with data crystals telling you all you want to know. But heed my warning, for as we speak, a Cylon force is heading for Earth. You must tarry here no longer, else Starbuck will think you tardy." She smiled her gapped-tooth grin. "And we both know you will never hear the end of that."
"But these records!" Mufti protested, waving a hand at the brightly painted walls featuring scenes and inscriptions.
"Will still be here," she replied.
"Who are you?" Mufti demanded.
"A friend."
"You assume I will let them pass, Ama," Iblis said with supreme self-confidence.
"I know you will, Iblis, for I can see what lurks in that cold place you call your soul . . . just as I know you will free Starbuck and cease these spurious attempts to control the Clavis and the Wraiths."
"That was Iblis?" Dayton asked incredulously. And he had left Coxcoxtli in charge of trying to solve an issue that was never actually technical in nature. But was Iblis telling the truth? Damn!
"What do you mean about the Wraiths, Ama?" Apollo demanded. "Is Starbuck in danger now?"
Iblis laughed cruelly. "When is Starbuck not in danger? He didn't get the welcome you hoped for on Earth, Commander Dayton. In fact, your long lost kinsmen treated him almost as badly as my disciple, Torg."
Dayton ground his teeth together before demanding, "What the hell is Starbuck doing on Earth? He had orders . . ."
"I believe he was saving your eldest daughter's life, Mark-Dayton," Ama replied. "Both girls seem to take after you when it comes to getting in trouble."
Dayton shut his mouth. A nod from Paddy confirmed it was best.
"That only leaves one small detail," Iblis said, offering his elbow to his blood. "You will be coming with me, Daughter, to take our rightful place in the New World. For among those that follow me, ours is the most sacred and ancient bloodline of all." She frowned distastefully, hesitating a moment as she looked around at those gathered. Iblis smiled slowly. "If you do not, in an instant I will destroy Starbuck, Luana, the Endeavour and all aboard, as well as everyone on this base. And that will only be the beginning."
"You plan to destroy them anyway," she reminded him.
"Only if I can not dominate them. Domination over death. It is so much more . . . dramatic. More satisfying. Certainly, more engaging." He looked upward, getting a faraway look. "Can you sense Starbuck's misery, Daughter? His suffering? I could send him spiralling to the unknown, never to return. Or I could crush him with a wave of my hand for my own amusement."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Your capacity for cruelty is infinite."
"You will find, if you look deep enough within yourself, an appetite for cruelty that matches my own. You only need to embrace it."
"NO!" Lia screamed, lurching forward to be caught again by Jolly. "Ama, don't!"
"He . . . leaves me little choice in the matter, Lia," she replied stiffly, drawing in a deep breath. "Did you see this coming too, John?" she whispered softly.
"Face it, Daughter, the Great Powers are stifling you. You like their rules no more than I did. Like me, you break them at every opportunity, deeming them beneath you." He smiled. "The Elders knew the risk they took. They suspected my spawn would follow my path. It is, after all, your destiny. Come with me, Ama. I can offer you the universe." His features darkened. "Or with the power of the Oculus, I could deliver humankind to an eternity in darkness. It is your choice, Ama."
"You really know how to sweet talk a girl," she replied, slowly reaching out to take Iblis' arm. "Get moving, Mark-Dayton! Earth needs you now!"
"Ama, no! Don't do it!" Ryan yelled, lunging towards her.
And in a blinding flash of light they were gone.
xxxxx
"Where did he go?" Jess Dayton demanded, staring at the scope.
It was the foremost question on everybody's mind at Baikonur Control. One minute Starbuck was leading the squadron of Cylon fighters to the awaiting Russian trap, and the next he was gone.
"His ship . . . it just disappeared," Sadowski reported, flipping various switches. "Sukhin sin! There is no trace of him. No sign of an explosion. Nothing."
"That's impossible!" Jess insisted. "He has to be there somewhere!"
"His ship did disappear on the runway, only to reappear moments later," Orlov reminded her.
"But . . ."
"If you run after two horses, you will catch neither," Surkov replied measuredly. "We concentrate on the Cylons. Is their attack force in range?"
"Almost, Colonel General," Sadowski replied. "They will be in range in one minute, mark."
"Transmit the signal," Surkov ordered, his gaze falling on Dayton as she pushed a lock of hair back from her forehead while she looked intently on. "All units, switch to the designated scan frequencies. Fire as soon as the enemy is in range."
"Transmitting."
He waited a full minute, glancing over at Jess. "At least now there is no chance Starbuck will be hit by friendly fire."
Jess sniffed, glancing at him briefly and nodding. It wasn't in Surkov's nature to look on the bright side. That had been entirely for her benefit.
"Fire all missiles," Surkov ordered.
"Firing."
"Pray," whispered Orlov, putting a supportive hand on his director's shoulder.
"Praying. That he doesn't suddenly reappear in the middle of that," replied Jess, looking upward. Then she whispered, "Fare thee well, Starbuck. Fare thee well."
xxxxx
Could he fire on his own men if he had to?
The question had been plaguing General Roach since the moment they started retracing their footsteps from deep within Area 51. Of course, he was hoping to avoid any kind of military confrontation by getting to his transport, up into "The Box"—the restricted airspace around the field—and out of the area, hopefully long before Mason or anybody else put measures in place to stop him. Where he'd go from there he hadn't quite figured out.
Now, they were finally outside and headed for the MC-130V aircraft waiting for them on the runway. As they climbed into the ground transport, Humvee Mk IV, they were all concentrating on appearing nonchalant. With the exception of Ryan, who wore insouciance like a well-loved t-shirt, Roach figured that the rest of them looked about as inconspicuous as a bright pink zeppelin at a submarine exhibit.
"General Roach! A moment please, sir!" a voice called out.
Shit!
"Keep going," Roach said to the others, turning to see five soldiers, one of them the Base Commander, heading towards him.
"General, we have orders to detain you and your party," Colonel Hundal said, not looking too pleased about it. The others paused about twenty feet away from Roach, knowing there was no point in running. At least, not now.
"Under whose authority?" Roach demanded, putting on his best 'I won't take any BS from you!' flag officer stance, and still trying to figure out how best to proceed. He would avoid bloodshed if at all possible, but he had no intention of rotting in a prison cell like Dickins and Hummer had.
"Admiral Jack Edwards, sir," Hundal replied dourly, holding up a piece of paper. He handed it to Roach. "The order is confirmed, sir. Believe me, I checked."
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had made it official.
"Colonel Hundal," Roach let out a long breath, trying to find the words that would sway this man to his side . . . if only long enough to escape. "What I'm about to tell you I relay in the strictest confidence." He nodded pointedly at the other soldiers. To his credit, Hundal waved them towards Bradshaw, Ryan and the rest. "I have reason to believe that Admiral Edwards is not operating in the best interests of the United States of America. That in fact, he has been suborned by treasonous elements within the government."
"Funny. That's what he said about you, General," Hundal returned, his dark features searching Roach's own for answers that eluded him.
"Then I guess it comes down to who you believe, Colonel."
"General . . ."
"Hundal, listen up. We've unearthed evidence that proves top-level government officials have been furthering their own agenda and colluding with an enemy that aligns himself with . . . terrorists." Somehow he couldn't spit the word 'aliens' out. "Meanwhile, we're working with a . . . a universal coalition to set things right. We have to bust this thing apart or it will tear apart our country . . . our planet." Roach paused as he recognized that particular look in Hundal's eyes. He'd seen it in the mirror a time or two. "No, I'm not off my rocker. Edwards is trying to bury this data, along with myself, my colleagues and our visitors here."
Hundal hesitated a long moment. "A supersonic jet was shot down over Kazakhstan, General. No survivors. The rest of the details are sketchy at best."
"The Cylons are here, then," Roach said.
"Ceylon? International terrorists from Ceylon infiltrating our government?" The colonel looked bewildered. Sri Lanka hadn't been known as Ceylon since before 1972.
"Cylon."
"Where's Cylon?" Hundal's voice rose in frustration.
But Roach was already focussing on the latest intel he'd received. "I was afraid it would come to this. That we'd be too late. God damned fools . . ."
"Where's Cylon?" Hundal shouted.
"It's . . . it's in another star system. They've known about them since 1947, but the government buried it."
"This is crazy, General," Hundal said, shaking his head. "Next you're going to tell me that little green men are manipulating our government through mind control." Roach said nothing for several seconds, and the two locked eyes. "Yeah. That's what you are telling me." He shook his head. "For crying out loud, General . . ."
"All truth passes through three phases, Hundal. First, it is ridiculed, second, it is violently opposed, and third, it is accepted as self-evident," Roach told him. "You're in phase one, just like I was not long ago."
"How long ago?"
"Hours."
Hundal snorted. "Maybe if you showed me one of these alien ships, offered me some proof . . ."
"Is that what it would take?" The words seemed to burst out of Roach, unbidden. The thought hadn't been his own.
"Considering the circumstances, it wouldn't hurt, General."
The sky rumbled. Then something like a small sonic boom erupted without warning. There was a strong rush of sudden wind that knocked more than one man back a pace. A moment later, a burst of light exploded above them as a strange energy filled the air. Roach took a half step back, shielding his eyes instinctively. An aircraft was suspended in the air about three hundred feet above them, but it wasn't any craft that Roach recognized. Smaller than anything that Earth had, its surface had a chameleon-like skin, reflecting its environment almost like a mirrored surface, unless the general was deluding himself. The air around it was crackling with electrical energy, giving it a sort of aura that left Roach shaking his head in wonder.
Dickins whooped in joy.
"Report!" snapped Hundal, barking into his phone. "Tell me how an unknown ship penetrates 'the box' without me knowing about it!"
"I d-don't know, sir! It just appeared! It wasn't on our radar until now!"
"Want to try and explain that, Mister?"
"I wish I could, sir." There was a moment's delay. "All tracking systems now off-line, sir! Communicat . . ." The phone roared with hiss. Hundal snapped it shut, poised to start shouting orders.
"Easy, Colonel!" The general grabbed his arm. "From the looks of Captain Dickins, I'd say this one is friendly. One of the Colonials, I presume, Captain Dickins?" Roach shouted over at the old astronaut.
"You bet your sweet bippy, General!" Dick grinned. "Yeehawwwwwwwwww!"
xxxxx
Ama could sense the shock, the disbelief, and the rage from Count Iblis as he realized what she had done, plucking Starbuck from the nothingness and redirecting him to where he could now do the most good. Iblis turned on her, the Oculus still in his grip. His very essence roiled with a malignance that would destroy a defenceless being. She felt his evil powers wash over her, but what should have been instantly deadly, was instead more like a gust of feculent air. He had expected her to follow him submissively when he had threatened her with precious human lives. Instead, she had gained an advantage, slowly and unobtrusively expanding the tendrils of her own spiritual energies ever outward, until she at last connected with the powers of the Oculus, embracing them and making them her own. Her mana—the supernatural force in her blood that had made Ama what she was—had come from her father. She did not have to touch the Oculus to manipulate its infinite power while her own father possessed it.
It was the secret that John had known all along. Now she realized it as well.
"You deceived me, child!" Iblis thundered. The cosmos rumbled in concordance.
"Deceit is your stock in trade! Are you so surprised when your blood pays you in your own coin?"
"You ungrateful worm! I . . ."
"You promised me the universe, Father. Surely you meant us to be equals," Ama replied, feeling his powers swell as they rose to meet hers. She forced down a rising dread, prepared to face his wrath with her own. It was her destiny.
"Equals? You impudent hussy! There is none equal to Iblis!" he roared. He waved a hand carelessly, redirecting his energies.
Creation trembled as their powers clashed.
xxxxx
A gradual awareness of his head forming coherent thoughts, or at least as coherent as he could normally manage, signalled that it was over. Whatever it had been. Starbuck sucked in a steadying breath, slowly opening his eyes as his faceplate display began to flicker back to life. Everything still looked blurry and surreal, and his stomach was doing its level best to betray him as the gorge rose in his throat in reaction to whatever had happened.
So what had happened?
He blinked a few times before he could adequately focus. It was still another centon before his vision stayed focused. They'd theorized that the Espridians had used their Wraiths along with the Clavis in order to observe planets in other star systems, and even entirely separate dimensions when their civilization had once thrived. So it made some sense that a pulsation from the Clavis would cause some kind of correlating effect on his bird. But where exactly did that leave him now? Not at his previous coordinates, that was for sure, or so his scanner was telling him. In fact, his Wraith seemed to be holding its position about a hundred metrons above the ground, floating on its grav-pulsars, its systems going through a self-diagnostic as the auto-pilot Baltar had ordered him to initiate kept him in the air instead of hurling towards the Earth out of control. So where was he?
And what if the same thing had happened to Lu? He didn't even know where she was right now, but all that pulsating and surging could play havoc with a Wraith's ECM, leaving a pilot vulnerable to Cylons and misguided Earthlings, not to mention being relocated to God knows where. "Frack," he whispered. "Please let her be okay . . ."
"Wraith pilot, this is Lieutenant Colonel Otokol. Surrender and land immediately or we will take offensive measures!"
He startled, not expecting the sudden transmission or the apparent ability of the officer to identify his ship. He checked his equipment, which was finally giving him coherent data. Apparently, he'd vanished from Kazakhstan, and rematerialized in the airspace of the United States of America, clear on the other side of the planet Earth. In fact, he was directly over an air base. A quick scan showed armed air support heading towards him, as well as surface-to-air missiles locking onto him. Still, it could have been worse. Much worse.
And if his muddled lack of imagination failed to reveal how, he reckoned that those below would fill him in shortly.
"This is Captain Starbuck of the Colonial Ship, Endeavour. I come in peace. I mean you no harm." His voice sounded hoarse, but oddly enough, his blocked sinuses and the other symptoms of his virus seemed to have cleared. It was almost like the time Ama had used her powers to get rid of a headache that had been plaguing him. He cleared his throat. "Just contact Colonel General Surkov of the Russian Air Force. He'll vouch for me." Either that or the Russian would wonder how Starbuck had managed to lead a squadron of Cylons straight to him and had then disappeared without a trace. A handy trick when a guy was bravely going to supposedly place himself in the middle of a hostile situation, using only his skill and the Wraith's ECM to evade a personal attack.
"Yo! This is Dickins! When did you learn to speak English, Hold the Whip?"
"Di . . .Dickins?" stuttered Starbuck into his helmet mic. "That really you?"
"Sure as hell is, hotshot! Get your vanilla latte ass down here, kid!"