Epilogue
The klaxon pierced the air and Starbuck jumped out of his skin in his duty office, while his four-sectar-old daggit started jumping and barking in alarm. It was a red alert, the tones dictating what everyone would do next. Starbuck leapt to his feet, almost tripping over Shadow as he reached for the telecom.
"Down!" he told the dog, before connecting. With a low whimper the daggit immediately lay down, unaccustomed to the din. "Good boy!"
"Control Centre."
"Captain Starbuck!" he reported in.
"Report to the Control Centre, Captain, on the double!" came the reply before he disconnected.
It wasn't exactly an enlightening conversation.
"Frack!" Starbuck cursed, tearing out of the office, wondering what on Earth was happening, while he ripped past others heading towards their duty stations. It had been about eight sectons since the Ravager had been destroyed, and since then the Endeavour had—among other things—primarily focused on peacekeeping and relief efforts. Before this, it had never occurred to Starbuck that as much energy could be expelled on maintaining peace as there was in destroying it.
Death toll: twenty-two million and counting.
Already, bit by bit, survivors and relief personnel were beginning to trickle back into what had once been Las Vegas and Mexico City after the radion levels had dissipated. Bit by painful bit, the dead were mourned. Hectare by hectare the devastation was cleared, and structures once more began to rise. The Endeavour herself played no small part. One of her holds had been filled with equipment used to construct bunkers and other ground installations on planetary surfaces for Cylon occupation forces. Virtually all of it, including over ten thousand tons of Megacrete, an incredibly strong, quick-setting casting material, was made available by order of Commander Dayton, along with crew to operate them. Also by his order, the formula was made available free of charge to every nation on Earth, along with Cylon metallurgy and related sciences. Within days, the rudiments of a government had once more begun to function in Mexico City, and Vegas was not far behind.
Of course, rebuilding a world so battered was hardly going to be cheap. With the assistance of the Brothers of Eden and the use of the Endeavour's computers and the reconstituted satellite network, Mal had once more shown his worth. Within a few days, hundreds of bank accounts all over the world, including many never meant to be found, had mysteriously emptied, much to the chagrin of various now exposed members of the Anakim. Almost at once other accounts appeared, providing hundreds of billions to aid the rebuilding efforts. Thousands upon thousands of tons of gold bullion—including that once housed in the now-defunct Federal Reserve Bank in New York—went mysteriously missing, turning up on markets from stock exchanges to jewellery traders around the globe, providing food, water and medical help to those who needed it most. Even so, it was just a start.
Starbuck reached the ladderwell and leapt up the first few rungs, propelling himself upward until he heard the bark of his daggit below him. Of course, not receiving any commands to the contrary, the daggit had followed. Shadow was still young, and as Lu kept telling everyone, his master was woefully inexperienced.
"Home!" Starbuck shouted, hearing the usual low whine before Shadow obeyed, heading back to quarters. Starbuck resumed his upward climb, feeling his tunic clinging to him from the coffee he'd spilled all over himself when the klaxon had sounded. Moments later he jumped to the deck, tore down another corridor, and launched himself through the hatch into the Control Centre.
Where the bridge crew was calmly waiting for him.
"What the . . .?"
"Report, Captain!" Apollo ordered, his manner relaxed, but his orders curt.
"Uh, Apollo . . . is this a drill?" Starbuck wracked his brain trying to remember reading a memo that had discussed an upcoming drill, but he came up blank.
"Report, Captain!" Apollo repeated, less relaxed, the klaxon still wailing.
"Triton Squadron standing by for launch, Colonel," Starbuck replied, the roster at this point emblazoned into his brain. "Phoenix Squadron awaiting orders."
"Captain?" Apollo asked Dorado.
"Affirmative on that, sir," Dorado confirmed from a station. "Both Phoenix and Triton Leaders report all ready."
Apollo nodded, glancing at his chrono. "Good work, everyone. Secure from Red Alert. Have both squadrons stand by in Beta Bay for inspection."
"Inspection?" Starbuck asked aloud.
"Yes, sir!" Dorado replied crisply, relaying the orders.
"Yes, inspection, Captain," Apollo replied, breezing by him. "You may have heard of it. It's that military protocol whereby a superior officer takes the time to mention you have java all over your tunic." He paused at the hatch, turning to raise his eyebrows at his astonished subordinate officer. "Captain? I presume you'd like to be there when I inspect your squadron?"
"Wouldn't miss it, Colonel," Starbuck replied, hurriedly falling in behind the executive officer.
It was as though Starbuck had been thrust into an alternate dimension . . . which wasn't routinely achieved by reviewing evaluations and assigning instruction modules to his pilots. No, he couldn't very well blame this one on Ama. Maybe if he cleverly probed his old friend, carefully wheedling answers out of him . . . but that wasn't really his style.
"What climbed up your turbo thrusters and lodged itself sideways this morning?" Starbuck asked.
Apollo came to a halt so abruptly in front of him that the captain collided with the colonel. Starbuck put out his hands on impact, reflexively taking an urgent step backwards as Apollo whipped around to face him.
"Do you want me to put you on report with your daggit, Starbuck?" Apollo snapped at him, before frowning, apparently realizing what he'd said. He closed his eyes briefly before turning a glare that Tigh would be proud of back on the captain.
"My daggit's on report?" Starbuck repeated, shaking his head in bemusement as the withering gaze blasted him. His training kicked in. "Sir."
"You're behind in your reports, Captain," Apollo suddenly said. "Performance evals, maintenance updates, shuttle logs, patrol rosters, and cargo manifests. I can't help but wonder if your public relations drive on Earth is interfering with your duty. Especially when you wear your favourite java blend to a Red Alert." He turned a scathing gaze on Starbuck's uniform, briefly fingering the damp material, then as much as snarled, "Colonial Capitano?"
"Hey, it was your klaxon that made me dump coffee all over my uniform while I was sitting at my desk getting my evals done and pouring over . . ." Starbuck's words trailed off as he watched Apollo actually cross his arms over his chest, staring at him impassively. It his heart he knew it didn't matter what he said in his own defence, right now in Apollo's eyes he was daggit meat. It was completely out of character for the colonel and behaviour more becoming officers like Commander Kronus from a generation ago. Something was going on here that he wasn't aware of. Finally, he decided to appeal to the friend he could only hope was still buried somewhere beneath that bullying military pomposity. "What the frack is this all about, Apollo? Did something happen?"
An uncomfortable silence hung between them for a long moment before Apollo took a step back, putting a little more distance between the men. He let out a long sigh. "Two things."
"What two things?" Starbuck asked.
"The Clavis pulsed." Apollo waited a moment as Starbuck's mouth dropped open in alarm. "And I slipped in daggit mong the consistency of mess gruel this morning, sliding a couple metrons before becoming airborne and landing flat on my back."
Starbuck winced at the visual. "Sorry 'bout that, buddy."
"So are my other boots," Apollo retorted, letting a shadow of a smile cross over his features for the briefest of moments. "They're in your quarters waiting to be cleaned, by the way."
Starbuck let out a breath, somewhat convinced the old Apollo was back. "What's the word on the Clavis? Did Mal take a look?"
"He ran some algorithms, but still couldn't explain it," Apollo replied. "But we all remember what happened the last time it did this. It took over the ship, Starbuck."
"But that's impossible. I thought we ended up attributing that to some entity that Ama warded off, or so you guys said in the debriefing," Starbuck replied. "It's gone."
Apollo frowned, contemplating it. "Could it be a message from Ama down on Earth? A warning?"
"Ama's, uh . . . not usually that cryptic, buddy," Starbuck replied. "Besides, since she came back, she hasn't probed my mind or tried to bleed me even once. It's almost as if she's turning her back on those powers she developed when she was with Iblis. Sagan's sake, she even demanded I assign her a couple pilots to fly her between centres of government down on Earth." He glanced at his chrono. "In fact, she should be returning from Pakistan shortly. She was supposed to be going down to Earth with me for Dayton's Chicago shindig. Too bad Lu has duty . . ."
"Another party?" Apollo asked, a note of incredulity in his voice as he crossed to a telecom. "What's the occasion this time?"
"Labour Day," Starbuck said. "It's some sort of holiday."
"They celebrate labour?" Apollo asked, finger paused over the comm.
"I guess so," Starbuck shrugged. "But the way I hear it, they celebrate it by not doing it, which appeals to me on more than one level."
"Yeah, it would," Apollo sniffed in amusement before returning to the matter at hand. "Could it be Iblis affecting the Clavis, I wonder?" he mused aloud before activating the telecom. "Control Centre, this is Colonel Apollo. What's the ETA on Councilwoman Ama?"
"Councilwoman Ama's Hybrid is landing now in Beta Bay, Sir."
"C'mon," Apollo said, taking Starbuck by the arm and guiding him down the corridor before letting go. "We can ask her ourselves."
"And then do a snap inspection?"
"Uh . . . yeah." It took him about two microns before he justified it. "I'm just trying to maintain discipline, Starbuck. Things are getting a bit lax around here and we need to keep the ranks on their toes. The only way to do that in times of peace is through drills; you know that. This is a military ship."
"That explains those mega-pulsars, huh?"
"Starbuck . . ."
"C'mon, Apollo, our warriors have been pulling double duty between relief efforts on Earth and their responsibilities here, not to mention repairs and supply. Personally, I've been about three sectars behind ever since I became the strike captain. Every time I come up for air, four or five supposedly urgent matters bury me again, and Mal won't help anymore unless I let him hug me. Let me tell you, buddy, trying to find some balance in there with Lu and her family, it's practically impossible to actually . . ."
Apollo dropped his gaze, turning away for the briefest of moments before looking back at his friend almost irritably.
Starbuck stopped short, giving the gesture some thought. It occurred to him that since they had departed for Earth, Apollo suddenly had a very big personal hole in his life. "Ahh!"
"Ah, what?" Apollo asked, once again stopping in the corridor to face his friend.
"You think it's time to get back to the Fleet, don't you?"
Apollo narrowed his eyes, resting his hands loosely on his hips, looking defensive. "And I'm thinking that based on what, exactly?
"Well . . ." Starbuck tried to keep his features impassive reckoning that 'because you miss your family, idiot' probably wouldn't go over very well at this juncture. Hey, who said he couldn't be discreet when he really put his mind to it . . .
"And if you're thinking it's because I'm missing my family, well there's a lot more to it than that, Starbuck!" Apollo didn't raise his voice so much as he raised his intensity. "While we're here helping Earth solve her own problems, somewhere out there the Cylons are still hunting ourpeople!"
Starbuck stood there silently for a moment, thinking about it. He'd been so busy with other things that he hadn't really given it much thought. After all, there seemed to be so much that needed doing in Earth's star system that it only seemed natural that they help out their Earth brothers. It was sort of like getting a home ready before you moved into it. You wanted everything perfect . . . or in Earth's case, at the very least not on the brink of a nuclear war. Meanwhile, far across the galaxy . . .
"You're right," Starbuck said.
Apollo took an audible breath, obviously prepared to continue to defend his point and not expecting complete agreement. He waved a hand in the air before saying grudgingly, "Of course, I'm right."
"You want to tell Dayton?" Starbuck grinned.
"You think I haven't already?" Apollo countered.
"I don't know," Starbuck crossed his arms over his chest, and then stroked his chin. "Apparently, I missed that Command meeting."
Apollo sighed before adding dryly, "You were redeployed on Earth that day, Starbuck, opening a Starbucks in Baikonur, if I recall correctly."
"And getting a medal from President Kuzmin, don't forget," Starbuck reminded him. "For my heroism and bravery . . . but mostly for keeping my mouth shut about that decontamination nightmare they put me through." Before he'd cut the ribbon for the new coffee house, Starbuck had a medal pinned on his chest by the Russian leader, something called the Order of Zhukov.
"Of course not. How could I or anyone else forget? Especially after that vodka incident with Surkov, Orlov and Jess." He crossed his arms over his chest.
Starbuck winced in memory. The vodka incident had been a social gathering where he'd learned that shots of vodka were obligatory whenever toasts were made. It was bad manners to refuse a top up and even worse to not eventually offer a toast to your host. Before he knew it, he'd consumed at least a bottle of vodka, and had been convinced to try dancing the Kazatsky with Orlov's nephews. The rest was a blur . . .
"In any event," Apollo continued, "Dayton said he'd made commitments that he wasn't willing to walk away from. Maybe you haven't noticed, but the three of us haven't actually been on the Endeavour at the same time since July."
No, he hadn't noticed. He had been too busy striking tasks off the list that Dayton had assigned to him. The long list that Dayton had assigned to him. It was times like this that he realized he sometimes followed too readily when others led. "Then I guess a Command meeting is overdue."
Apollo frowned. "Look, Starbuck, don't get me wrong here, I know that Dayton has good intentions . . ."
Starbuck waved a hand, cutting him off, and at the same time impelling him towards the landing bay. "Yeah, I hear you. I don't think any of us figured we'd get quite so embroiled in Earth's problems so quickly or so thoroughly."
"Exactly."
Initially, they had concentrated on helping with relief efforts in those areas destroyed or attacked by the Cylons, as well as those whose infrastructure had been damaged by the EMP unleashed on Earth when the Ravager had exploded. Ama had, of course, insinuated herself quickly into the bureaucratic situation, drafting an alliance with other world leaders as the sole Council of Twelve representative. Meanwhile, Starbuck had taken a personal interest in seeing both Mason and the Russian, Borodin, brought to justice. Much to Starbuck's disbelief, Mason was still lingering in a cell awaiting tribunal . . . or trial, as they called it. After all, in comparison Colonial justice was swift and decisive, bringing the accused to tribunal within twenty-four centars of being charged. Ironically, justice was served far swifter in Russia, and about a secton after Colonel General Alexei Surkov assumed Borodin's old job, the former GRU director was found dead in his cell, victim to a lethal radioactive isotope that he had carelessly ingested. It wouldn't have been a pretty death, but after his early time in Kazakhstan, Starbuck found himself unmoved.
Maybe he'd been hanging out with Dayton too long.
Speaking of which, at the end of July an "unidentified" body had been found bobbing in the Hudson River, which Lauren Dayton had every reason to believe, after investigating the incident further, was Eckandar Shahhosseini. It had coincided with a few days that Dayton and his men had spent in New York, presumably mixing business with pleasure, as they visited Dickins' family and rubbernecked with bureauticians of every nationality at the United Nations Complex.
Starbuck truly didn't want to know.
"When's Dorado due back from Phobos?" Starbuck asked Apollo as they ascended the ladderwell towards the landing bay.
"That's another project that keeps extending itself," Apollo called down to him. "Coxcoxtli and Hummer are optimistic they can get one of those ships operational."
"A seven thousand yahren old battlecruiser? I take it that's a long-term plan?"
"Space does have a way of preserving things," Apollo replied. "Just think about the Endeavour."
"I was thinking about Dayton, actually," Starbuck returned wryly. "Or was that the asteroid whiskey?"
Apollo chuckled, exiting the hatch into the landing bay. "Uh, Bucko . . ."
"What?" Starbuck asked, following his friend's gaze when his feet hit the deck. The older woman walking towards him had short but elegant white hair, framing a face with high cheekbones. Her outfit was from Earth, and was both fitted and flattering. When she smiled at him, he just about fell over. It was Ama, and she had straight pearly teeth! Gone was the wild hair. Gone was the gapped-tooth smile. Gone was his sense of one unchanging force in his personal universe. "Ama?"
"Hello, Dear Heart," she replied, cackling in delight as warriors stood erect for inspection several metrons behind her, Lia and Luana among them. The sisters broke the line, obviously taken aback before Rooke barked a warning at them and they fell in again. Ama, for her part, did a slow, graceful pirouette for all to admire. "Do you think Chameleon will like the new me?"
"I . . . uh . . . well," Starbuck sputtered, before recovering from the shock. A few times he had seen her decked out, her wild hair tamed and restrained like a feral beast in a throw net. But just as he had grown comfortable with the transformation from Empyrean necromancer to elegant Councilwoman, she would smile that trademark grin of hers and the illusion would shatter. Not this time. "You, uh . . . you look great."
"You really do, Ama," Apollo said, much more graciously than his friend.
"Well, thank you both," she smiled again, lightly touching her hair. "Tell me, were you testing the Clavis this morning?"
"Then the energy surge didn't have anything to do with you?" Apollo guessed.
"Well, there's my answer. Obviously it wasn't explained away by your diagnostics," Ama said, her lips thinning. "Blast!" Then she muttered more quietly, "Why can't they let me be?"
"They? They who?" Apollo replied.
"Ama?" Starbuck said less insistently.
Ama let out an unladylike growl, turning her back on them both, her fingers interlocking behind her new coif. Microns dragged on as she anguished there alone, her form tense and angry, her manner unapproachable.
Feeling like he was about to poke an angry serpent, Starbuck took a step closer. Hesitantly, he reached out to her, touching the silky sleeve of her blouse. "Ama, we need your help here."
She turned her head to look at him, and something behind those grey eyes unnerved him. Then, as if knowing what he was thinking, she smiled reassuringly at him, covering his hand with her own.
"Better let me take a look so we can see exactly who the culprit is, Dear Heart," she said.
Apollo nodded, glancing at his line of warriors awaiting his displeasure.
"I'll handle inspection," Starbuck reassured him. "You and Ama go ahead and try to get to the bottom of what's going on with the Clavis. I'll catch up with you in the Control Centre."
"Thanks, buddy," Apollo replied, taking the Councilwoman by the arm and heading back to the core.
Starbuck strode over to his pilots, setting his features grimly.
"A drill, Starbuck?" Jolly asked, standing at the end of the line beside Rooke. "How about some warning next time?"
"You had the same warning that I did, Lieutenant," Starbuck replied.
"Stand alert! Eyes front!" Rooke barked, detecting something amiss in their strike captain's tone as Starbuck started to walk down the line of Colonial Warriors, appraising them.
Each warrior stood ramrod straight, an aura of uneasy expectation enveloping them. Lia didn't flinch when he looked her way, but Lu gave him a saucy wink before returning her focus to the Hybrid fighter behind him. Starbuck turned around and passed by them all again, this time more slowly, pausing before Jolly to pick a speck of errant lint from his tunic. Starbuck kept his features impassive as Jolly's eyebrows raised in surprise. The jovial lieutenant briefly met his eyes, unexpectedly seeing something there that made him abruptly return his gaze to the front in crisp military fashion. In the service it was known as "mong rolling down hill", and it could overcome even the most even-tempered and good-natured of officers. Finally, seeing that he had them on their toes, Starbuck walked down the line once again, coming to a stop before the group, one hand resting on his holster as he considered them all.
He grinned.
"Good work, everybody. In honour of not only your hard work and dedication these last couple sectars, but also Earth's Labour Day, the first round of drinks are on me in the OC. " He paused as a low murmur of appreciation for their strike captain rose in the ranks and they visibly relaxed. Starbuck held up a hand. "There's a catch; the last one of you to arrive there has to clean the colonel's boots . . ."
xxxxx
"Tell me your secrets," Ama murmured, placing her withered hands slightly above the glowing Clavis in the Control Centre. "Who seeks to manipulate you now?"
Apollo stood a pace behind her with Malus, watching the Empyrean necromancer close her eyes, her features relaxing into tranquillity. She seemed older, more fragile, since their experience two sectars ago. Ryan had mentioned that Iblis had shown her something that had shaken her faith, but being Ryan, the Earthman didn't seem too surprised by that. Starbuck, Luana and Lia had all tried to probe her about her experiences, the strike captain going as far as to ply her with both asteroid whiskey and Empyrean ale in an effort to loosen her tongue, but the sagacious old woman had remained evasive, determined to shoulder her personal burdens alone, at least as far as Apollo knew. She had thrown herself into the role of Colonial envoy, representing the Council of the Twelve with a wisdom and dignity that almost surprised the colonel, so familiar was he with her sometimes backwards and abrasive Empyrean ways.
Ama frowned, taking a step back and putting a hand to her mouth. "Hold these, will you, Dear Heart?" she said, turning to drop something into Apollo's unfortunate hand. Then she resumed her position, probing the mysteries of the Clavis with her psionic powers.
Evidently, Ama's dental makeover was easily reversible. Apollo grimaced, regarding the warm, moist dental plates in his hand, the residue of victuals still clinging to them. He made a mental note to warn Starbuck of this latest ritual before setting them down atop the control station, wiping his hand distastefully on his uniform pants.
"Keep those safe, Apollo, they weren't cheap," Ama said, as though she had eyes in the back of her skull.
"Neither is my self-respect," Apollo retorted, not missing the playful smirk that now lit her face. It was as if she were reading his mind at the same time as she probed the Clavis. "What is it, Ama? What can you tell us?"
"Do tell us, Ama. I ran several diagnostics, but an ascertainable technological explanation evaded me," Malus said.
Ama sighed, dropping her hands and stepping back from the machine. She paused for a moment, looking at the entryway expectantly. Just as Apollo was about to prompt her once again, Starbuck walked in.
"Did I miss anything?" the strike captain asked.
"You might say that," Apollo replied with a glance at Ama's artificial teeth.
"Greetings, Starbuck," Malus said. "Is your pet not with you?" There was a slight note of jealousy in the IL's tone.
"Hey, Mal," Starbuck replied, seemingly unaffected. "Shadow's in the doghouse."
"I see. But inevitably he will be let out, and you will call him 'Good Boy' and rub his belly. Such is the life of your daggit, Starbuck." The IL's lights seemed to strobe for a moment. "I often wish I could trade places with Shadow."
"Mal, this really isn't the time or the place to take another pseudo-hormonal IL adventure into Hades Hole," Starbuck replied, blowing out a breath as if he was already mentally counting to ten.
"Haven't had your hug today, Malus?" Ama asked in amusement.
"He's just whining because we won't let him go down to Earth," Starbuck replied. "I keep telling him that Earthlings are a little Cyborg-shy right now, but he doesn't get it."
"Give him a hug, Starbuck." Ama grinned as the warrior glared at her. "I believe he feels that he's been replaced by a four-legged canine."
"Shadow is Lu's dog," Starbuck said, using the Earth word for daggit interchangeably with the Colonial Standard one.
"Then why does he follow you around incessantly?" Malus asked. "He's always nuzzling you and licking you . . . and you seem to enjoy it."
"Mal, we don't have time for this right now," Starbuck returned irritably, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Time is always precious when we are discussing my feelings," Malus replied.
"Malus, didn't we discuss applying filters to your emotional program set? Not in the Control Centre!" Apollo inserted sharply, reflecting briefly that his once orphaned friend had acquired one of the strangest extended families ever known to mankind. As soon as Interfleet Broadcasting got wind of this, they'd have a field day with the possibilities. "Well, Ama?"
"Well . . it's not Count Iblis," she replied. "I'm certain of that."
"Is it the parasitic entity returned from where you sent it?" Malus asked, back in form.
She shook her head, scowling. "It's a warning from the Beings of Light." She took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. "It's time to return to the Fleet."
"A warning?" Starbuck said. "That sounds sort of . . . ominous."
"Well, that might be reflective of my parting with them," Ama replied elusively, turning to scoop up her teeth, picking at some residue and flicking it onto the deck before popping them back into her mouth, her lips smacking noisily as she lubricated them with her tongue.
"Ama, are you telling us that you antagonized beings that have the power to cross dimensions, make ships and people disappear, and to bring dead men back to life?" Apollo asked in disbelief. "And you're only just mentioning it now?"
"Yes, I guess so." She smiled ever so slightly. "But they deserved it."
"Well, in that case," Starbuck sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he studied the old woman. "Are you ever going to tell us what really happened between you, Iblis and the rest of them?"
"Maybe one day . . . when I have it all figured out for myself. I'm afraid that right now I'm still too emotionally attached to the event to give an objective and possibly even accurate recount of it," the Councilwoman replied with a shrug. "Baltar pops in now and then, trying to persuade me that I am overreacting, but it's difficult at my age to suddenly doubt everything you once believed to be true." She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself, stroking one arm up and down repeatedly in a consoling fashion. "Apparently, they have assigned him as my newest . . . mentor, which is rather ironic, don't you think, considering it was I who put him on the path towards redemption. However, my disillusionment is too raw, too fresh right now for me to be swayed. Every time I even think about trying to use my powers, I can feel both them and him peering into my soul, tearing open wounds that I thought healed. I find I don't want any of them there anymore."
"Are you saying that they somehow connect with you telepathically when you use your psionic powers?" Malus asked.
"More viscerally than telepathically." Ama shivered.
"I am not sure I understand," Malus said.
"I'm sure that I don't. Did you get any of that?" Apollo asked his friend after a moment of reflective bemusement. Hopefully, some personal insight into Starbuck's godmother-in-law would clear up her inscrutable words.
"She said that maybe one day she'd tell us what happened," the strike captain replied, his mien conveying an unexpected understanding, empathy and patience with the Empyrean wise woman.
"Thanks for clearing that up," Apollo said a few microns later.
"Any time."
"Do you have any recommendations?" Apollo asked the necromancer.
"I'd get our people from Earth and Phobos back here as soon as possible and voluntarily prepare to return to the Fleet," Ama advised, "before the Clavis does it for you."
"How long do you think we have, Councilwoman Ama?" Malus asked.
She shook her head. "I don't know, Malus. Honestly. It could be they're trying to prevent us from interfering with something that's about to occur. Or perhaps now that we've finally helped lay the groundwork that will ensure a smooth transition into Earth's future, our work, at least for the present, is done."
"Can you find out?" Starbuck asked. "Probe some receptive celestial souls. Maybe Baltar's?"
Ama fixed a stare on him that would have had a lesser man diving for cover.
"Don't look at me like that," Starbuck told her. "The day is gone when I was afraid you'd turn me into a putrid. The way I understand it, you're more powerful now than ever before. I think you're afraid to use your powers right now, Ama. I don't know why, but . . ."
"You don't know what you ask of me, Son of my Heart," she said, glowering at him. "Honestly, you do not."
"Nothing that you wouldn't have given readily before now," Starbuck replied.
Apollo kept his mouth shut, leaving it between them.
"I will monitor the situation," Ama declared. "That is all."
"What exactly does that mean, Ama?" Starbuck demanded.
"That I won't subject myself to their scrutiny. I won't exercise. . ." She clamped her mouth shut.
Starbuck blew out a loud breath of frustration, taking a step towards her and grasping her upper arms, leaning down to look into her eyes. "What are you afraid of, Ama?"
"Losing myself," she whispered after a moment, bowing her head. "Letting myself be consumed by resentment . . . and hatred. Becoming like him. Becoming him! Taking his place."
"Iblis'? That could never happen," Starbuck told her, tipping her chin up. "There is too much good will, grace and integrity in you, Ama, for you to take Iblis' place. I don't know how you could even think such a thing."
She smiled at him, reaching up and lightly stroking his face. "Many would disagree with you, Starbuck."
He shrugged. "That's the story of my life. But the upshot is I'm usually right."
"Except for when you're very very wrong," she reminded him.
Starbuck sighed, pulling her to his chest, letting her arms enfold him naturally, as if they were mother and son, at least in destiny. "Once you told me to follow my instinct, Ama. Maybe you should do the same."
"I was baffling you with bovine mong, Starbuck," she murmured into his chest, the words muffled.
"No, you were right on the mark, lady," he said, stroking her freshly cut hair as if she were a child. "After all you've been through already, all you've survived, all you have to fear now is fear itself."
She raised her head, taking a step back, looking up at him in wonder.
As did Apollo.
"May I embrace you next, Starbuck?" Malus suddenly asked.
"Filter, Malus!" Apollo said sharply.
"Yes, Colonel," the IL replied meekly. "Apologies."
"Well, Ama?" Starbuck said.
"If I intervene, Starbuck, it may make it worse," she whispered, her eyes searching his as she grasped his hands. "If it had been up to them, I'd be powerless right now."
"They took your powers?"
"I didn't exactly abide by their rules," Ama admitted. "Count Iblis returned my powers to me just before he was exiled. It wasn't very popular with the Great Powers."
"Holy frack, Iblis did that? Iblis?" Starbuck asked, releasing Ama and looking over at Apollo briefly in amazement. He fixed his gaze back on the necromancer. "So you think they'll . . . punish you if you use your powers? Is that why you've been so hesitant to flex your usual Empyrean muscles?"
By the expression on her face, Starbuck was close, but not exactly correct.
"Or maybe she thinks they'll punish us?" Apollo said, feeling uneasy. "Is that it, Ama?"
"You're very perceptive, Apollo," she replied. "I have pondered it. Mostly . . . at a time like this . . . I don't wish to anger them . . ."
"At a time like what?" Starbuck probed.
"Do you really think they'd punish us . . . or you?" Apollo said, his very nature rebelling against the idea.
"Apollo, I believe that if goodness can be found, even in one such as Iblis, then perhaps maliciousness can also be found in those considered to be largely altruistic," she replied. "In order for there to be a battle between good and evil, one must be willing to make war. And a war is not won through good intentions, honesty and goodwill. A long dead Earth leader once said that 'in wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies'."
Starbuck stood by silently, digesting her words.
"That makes a surprising amount of sense, Ama," Apollo said, still taken aback at the prospect. However, he was only hearing one side of the events, and it was a sketchy retelling at best.
Starbuck nodded slowly. "You get Dorado and the others back here from Phobos, Apollo. I'd better get down to Earth and tell Dayton what's going on."
"Using the telecom would be quicker, buddy."
"I have the feeling I'd better tell him this in person."
"Oh?"
Starbuck grimaced.
Apollo looked at him, a new understanding dawning. "He's . . . not coming back. Is he?"
Starbuck hesitated, seeming to waffle in indecision. "He never said that, not in so many words, anyhow. I just can't help but think that after finally getting home, being reunited with his daughters and making such an impact on Earth's technological and bureaucratic future that just maybe he'll be reluctant to voluntarily walk away from all of that again."
"I see what you mean," Apollo said, reaching forward and clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"As do I," Ama said, lightly touching his arm. "I'll come with you, Starbuck. Someone had better be there to keep you out of trouble."
Although Starbuck and Dayton had had a rough start, theirs had been a relationship built on mutual respect, honour and deep camaraderie. More than one person had recognized the uncanny similarities in their natures, both believing in their own way that loyalty and allegiance took precedence over all else. Over the sectars, theirs had grown into a father-son relationship, possibly superseding the one Starbuck had with Chameleon. But then, even Chameleon had once remarked that Dayton seemed to challenge Starbuck to excel, helping to mould his character in a way that the old conman didn't think he was personally capable of.
"Maybe we should bring Cassie along," Starbuck suddenly inserted.
"A med tech seems like a good idea, especially at one of Dayton's parties," Apollo returned, squeezing his friend's shoulder once again before releasing him. Leave it to Starbuck to think of his former lover's situation if Dayton didn't return to the ship. Cassiopeia would be devastated and they both knew it. "And Starbuck, whatever you do, don't take too long. If Ama's right . . ." He broke off his words, not wanting to think about leaving his friend behind, especially with his wife still on board the Endeavour. Speaking of which . . . "What about Lu?"
"All the more incentive for me to get back here on time," Starbuck replied.
"You're sure?" Apollo checked.
"I'm sure," Starbuck replied, taking Ama's arm and heading for the core.
"She'd kill you if she knew!" Apollo shouted after him.
"Then don't tell her!" Starbuck replied, looking back.
"Don't tell her?" Apollo repeated incredulously, moving to the corridor and shouting after them. "Right! I'll just gag the crew and suspend all activity on the Endeavour until you work up the nerve to talk to your wife, Starbuck!"
"Well . . . when you put it like that," Starbuck muttered, a shadow of a grin crossing his face. "Okay, I'll mention it if I see her."
Apollo raised a hand, pointing to the core. "You do that. Move it, Captain. And make sure that damned daggit is contained before you go."
"Aye, sir!"
xxxxxx
"If you think for one micron that I'm going to let you go down there without me on the off chance that you might not come back, you're out of your mushie-munching mind," Luana told her husband, one hand on her laser and the other on his flight jacket, curled into a loose fist.
"Mushie-munching mind, huh?" Starbuck looked down at her laser pointedly, before meeting her eyes again. He smiled at her. "You planning on using that, Lu?"
"Don't tempt me," she replied, glancing back at Ama, Cassie and Dietra. Word had spread like wildfire around the ship that they were preparing to use the Clavis to head back to the Fleet. "You'd better start talking fast, Flyboy."
"I'm sure that you've heard already, it's the Clavis, Luana," Ama said to her goddaughter. "It's surged again. I believe it's going to self-generate once more, taking us back to Fleet. We have to get everybody back aboard who's coming aboard. There may not be much time."
"What about the teams on Mars and Phobos?" asked Cassie, only just arriving a centon before. The med tech was wearing a floral printed Earth-style dress that swished and moved with her motions, accentuating her curvy figure. It had made every male head in the launch bay turn when she'd climbed through the hatch.
"Recalled," replied Starbuck. "They're scheduled to lift off from Mars roughly twenty centons from now. When they rendezvous with the Phobos crew, they'll leave Mars space within sixty centons. I just hope the Dayton is here when they get back."
"Not to mention the Endeavour," Dietra added worriedly.
Lu released Starbuck, her gaze swinging from one face to the next until she realized what they were alluding to. "Are you saying that Dayton's not coming back?"
"I don't know," Cassiopeia admitted. "I've broached it with him a few times, but each time he evades the question. I think he's really struggling with it all." She sighed, looking over at Dietra. "What about Paddy?"
Dietra sniffed softly. "Paddy will go wherever Commander Dayton does. When Mark makes up his mind, so will Paddy."
"What about you, Dietra?" Cassie asked.
"My place is with the Fleet," Dietra said quietly. "Has been since the Holocaust."
"Does Paddy-Ryan know that, Child?" Ama asked.
Dietra nodded. "He knows. We've discussed it at length. He's surprisingly forthcoming about what he wants and needs, more so now that he's been reunited with family and friends on Earth. He expects the same of me." She shrugged. "He told me I deserve more than an old reprobate whose first allegiances are to his friends, his liquor and his family, probably in that order. His words, not mine. Anyhow, after I gave it some thought, I realized he's right."
Cassie nodded, reaching out and touching the other woman's arm empathetically. It was clear the med tech had also placed herself somewhere down the line in Dayton's list of priorities, but it just wasn't as important to her. Her spirit was a generous one and she didn't harbour jealousies over not being first in her man's life. Being that her last three serious relationships had been with officers in the Colonial Service, it wasn't surprising.
Starbuck cleared his throat, uncomfortable at being caught up in the candid female conversation. "You'd rather stay, Dee?"
"If you're saying that there's a chance the Endeavour might leave without us," Dietra replied, "well, then yes."
"It's possible it could come to that," Starbuck conceded, earning himself an indignant glare from Lu. "Why do you think I'm taking Ama?"
Lu visibly relaxed. "A wild Empyrean ride home, just in case," she murmured. "Always have an exit."
"That's right," Starbuck agreed.
Ama shook her head adamantly. "Starbuck, I told you, I may not be up for that kind of adventure right now. I'm a little out of practice, in fact."
He raised his hands in a conciliatory fashion. "It might not even be necessary if we get our astrums aboard the shuttle and get there and back in time. I've already arranged for a helicopter to meet us at the Air Force base."
"I'll co-pilot," Luana said, brushing past her husband and stepping aboard.
"Lu, you know how Dayton feels about you and I flying together," Starbuck told her back, following her aboard. "Remember what happened the last time . . ."
"And the time before that," Ama pointed out, also boarding. Cassiopeia followed.
"Commander Dayton's not here to complain about it, and I think I can handle the strike captain if he starts protesting too vociferously," Lu said over her shoulder, a teasing glimmer in her eyes. "Besides, if there's any chance that you're going to be left behind on Earth, Innamorato, then I'm going to be with you. You can take that and post it on the main page of your fan club website just to make it official."
Cassie and Ama laughed in amusement behind him. Starbuck blew out a breath, following Lu to the flight deck, calling back, "Strap yourselves in, ladies. Looks like it's going to be a bumpy ride."
"Maybe for you, Dear Heart," Ama returned with her trademark cackle. "Maybe for you."
xxxxx
"You can't just . . . leave!" Grae Ryan raved, fists clenched, as he and Carter stood suited up, facing Dorado, Hummer and Coxcoxtli. "We've come so far! And there's still so much we can do here!" He waved a hand, encompassing the flight deck of the battlecruiser they had been working to restart, as well as the view of the Phobos space dock beyond it. Dozens of WASA technicians in spacesuits were still hard at work, crawling all over the hull and the dock, unaware that the Colonials had been recalled. "We can't do it without you guys! It would set us back decades!"
"I'm just following orders, Grae," Dorado told Paddy Ryan's son. "If we don't rendezvous with the Mars crew now, we're going to miss our ride home."
"Home?" Grae asked incredulously. "Aren't you the guy who was telling me just the other night that home was a smouldering hunk of rock called Caprica light years away in both distance and time, where you once had a family, not to mention no cybernetic body parts!"
"I think that was mentioning it, Grae," Carter pointed out. "Real subtle, pal."
"This isn't about home, it's about duty," Dorado replied, slowing heading aft in the low-gravity environment. Although minimal in strength, the portable grav-generator attached to the underside of the ship's hull at least kept them from floating helplessly about. "We've been recalled. You know. Orders?"
"Well, what about your duty to us?" Grae demanded, following. Carter said something, but the more effusive Ryan stormed over his words. "You know how much we need your Colonial know-how! We might as well be pissing in zero gravity as trying to get this ship or base operational if you pull out now!"
"Slow down!" Dorado turned on him, putting his hands up to prevent the other from colliding with him. They ended up in a deranged dance as momentum drove them in a half circle. "My languaphone is rendering felgercarb about drowning in urinary incontinence, and something about interrupted . . ."
Ryan couldn't help but grin, his glance darting over Dorado's shoulder briefly before returning to the captain. "Sounds about right, actually."
Dorado shook his head in frustration and disgust, turning again, this time heading down a ladderwell.
"We need you, Dorado!" Ryan continued following. "We've had a tight team since we arrived back in July! Just look at what we've accomplished between our manpower and your technological prowess. We have power restored to a third of the base, we've come within a hair's breadth of figuring out how to restore gravity and environment, this battlecruiser might actually be operational, then there's that sealed sanctum that Hummer thinks has to do with celestial travel of some sort. Well, newsflash, they found an inset symbol for the All Seeing Eye identical to the one on Mars there! Didn't you say that you have Starbuck's talisman? It might open it! These Kobollians were absolutely brilliant and we all have a chance to tap into their knowledge, unearthing long-forgotten technology that even your people lost along the way!"
It had surprised Dorado the day that Starbuck had pressed his talisman and good luck charm into the captain's hand, telling him almost jokingly that where he was going, he was more likely to need it. Starbuck wasn't exactly known for being superstitious, and Dorado had detected a deeper concern and seriousness behind the lightness of his friend's words. The old war jock was getting soft around his edges.
Dorado stepped off the ladder, holding up his hands helplessly, still preceding Ryan as he paced through the corridors of the Kobollian vessel, as though he was trudging through water in his anti-grav boots. As much as he hated to abandon the most fascinating project he'd ever been assigned to, his superior officer had just given him orders to ship out. His hands were tied. He sighed, slowing his pace, letting the still ranting Ryan catch up to him. Hummer, Coxcoxtli and Carter were following more slowly, in view, but also in conversation, obviously on another channel. He stopped to wait for them.
"C'mon, Dorado, tell me this place isn't the culmination of your hopes and dreams! Your goddamn El Dorado, to coin a phrase," Ryan continued. "This is a scientist's paradise! An engineering Nirvana! How can you even think about tearing yourself away?"
"You following me around raving incessantly makes it easier," Dorado replied, letting out another breath. He'd had to fight Apollo for this assignment, but the colonel had conceded the early stages of the mission, thinking he'd get his chance eventually. Evidently, he'd been wrong.
"Wait up!" Hummer switched to their channel as the three men closed the distance between them.
Grae crossed his arms over his chest, turning, looking at Carter expectantly. The WASA pilot nodded briefly. "Well?"
Coxcoxtli cleared his throat, looking at the Colonial captain almost guiltily.
"What?" asked Dorado.
"Sir, we've decided to stay, Hummer and I," Coxcoxtli admitted. "We're both . . .uh, submitting our resignation to the Colonial Service."
"You're what?" Dorado growled. "There's a fracking war on! You can't just resign!"
"Last time I checked, we weren't under Military Law anymore, Captain. It's within our rights," Hummer informed him.
"Welcome aboard," Grae said with a grin, reaching out to shake both men's hands.
Dorado blew out a loud breath, glaring at Ryan. "Damn you, Ryan! You planned this."
"So sue me," Ryan shrugged. "This is the sweetest assignment that any of us will ever get the chance to take part in, including you, Dorado. I've come to know you pretty well over the last six weeks, and I have the idea the last time you did anything selfish for yourself, you were prepubescent. There's more to life than duty and following orders, Dorado."
It sounded like it was right out of the Book of Starbuck, and it struck a nerve with the captain.
"The work we do here now just might pave the way for an easier transition for both your people and our people in the future, when the Galactica and the Fleet finally pull up outside," Ryan continued. "It might even save lives or possibly the whole human race. It's crucial that people who know the technology and some of the history are here to lead the rest of us in the research, development and rebuilding. We need you. All of you." Grae paused. "What do you say, Dorado?"
xxxxx
Even though Starbuck had been there a few times by now, he still paused at the crisply painted white gate to admire the Dayton family house in Chicago, which had at one time belonged to the Endeavour commander's parents. Ironically, it was a two level "Colonial" style house, built from dark red brick, nestled amongst large trees, offering the generous lushly landscaped lot natural shade from the warm glow of the evening sun. The house that Dayton was raised in was more than a centi-yahren old, and Starbuck couldn't help but smile as he looked up at the rotted and meagre remains of a tree fort that a young Mark Dayton had worked on with his grandfather. He could almost hear the familiar timbre of Dayton's voice telling him about how he had insisted they build an orbiter instead of a tree house, the passion for space exploration having already taken root.
"Shall we?" Ama asked, lightly touching his elbow.
"Right," Starbuck agreed, pushing open the gate, and letting the three women precede him as a row of white and purple flowers ushered them up towards the front door. Cassie paused to look at him in indecision. They could already hear voices and detect delicious smells coming from the backyard, where the barbeque would be in full swing.
"Captain, should I wait or return, sir?" the young soldier that the military had sent asked, standing beside the large sedan that had delivered them from the heliport. Before that, a helicopter had transported them from Scott Air Force Base where they had left their shuttle.
"Seems to me you'd better join the party until we're ready to go, Sam, unless you have somewhere better to be. I'm sure there's a cool one with your name on it," Starbuck replied, waving a hand towards the festivities to encourage the young man.
Sam smiled, closing the door to the vehicle and eagerly joining them. "I'm technically on duty, Captain." He tipped back his head, sniffing the air deeply. "But whatever they're barbequing sure smells good."
"Cold beer and barbeque is a Dayton speciality," Cassiopeia added, now also equipped with a languaphone, putting a hand on Starbuck's arm, holding him back for the moment. "The more the merrier, Sam. You three go ahead. I just need to talk to Starbuck for a moment."
"Thank you, Miss," the soldier replied, with a bow and tip of the cap, joining Ama and Luana as they stepped off the cobblestone pathway to head towards to the side of the house.
"Starbuck . . ." Cassie began, and then paused as they stood side by side. She drew in a deep breath of the floral scented air, glancing up at the grand old house. "You know he thinks the world of you, don't you?"
"It works both ways, Cass," he replied, following her gaze. If Dayton opted to remain on Earth, he had the feeling that Cassie would stay with him, not that she had committed one way or the other, at least out loud. This might be the last time he saw either of them. At times like this, women, he had realized, had the need to make some kind of dramatic closing statement to keep in their mental book of memories.
"Thank you."
"For what?" he asked.
"For bringing Mark Dayton into my life."
He turned towards her, reflecting that while he may have physically delivered the Earth astronauts to the Fleet, the blossoming romance had had very little to do with him. "He's lucky to have you, Cass. You know that, don't you?"
She stepped forward into his embrace, kissing him lightly on the cheek and smiling up at him. "There were times when I thought . . ."
"Hey, hey, hey!" a voice called coming around from the backyard. "What's going on here?" Dayton demanded teasingly, as he came out casually dressed in jeans and a light cotton shirt, wearing an apron emblazoned Kiss The Cook. With his skin browned by the sun, and his grey eyes sparkling in merriment, he had never looked better. "Listen, Vanilla Bean Vaquero, half of America is drooling over you, not to mention most of the rest of the world! At least leave my Cassiopeia alone."
Cassie seemed to glow with joy when he said "my Cassiopeia", and promptly followed the instructions of the apron. Starbuck could picture the two of them living here in this picturesque house in Chicago, surrounded by golden-haired kids, all taking after Cassie. What had Ryan called it? The American Dream?
"You know me, Dayton, if I don't constantly have a beautiful woman adoring me, I start to break down on an emotional—not to mention molecular—level," Starbuck quipped as he watched the two embrace.
Dayton chuckled before turning his attention solely on his lady. "Hello, Beautiful. I thought you couldn't make it. I'm glad you were able to get away. Lauren's here already, and Jess is on her way with Yvonne. My sister, too. They'll be happy to see you." Dayton, for his part, had done all he could to ease his lady's transition into his family, but had largely found that Cassie had a way with people that endeared her to them quickly.
His daughters had been both gracious and welcoming of Cassiopeia, despite the fact that Dayton's legal wife was still alive, although suffering an advanced stage of a degenerative brain condition called Alzheimer's disease. Her disease had stolen any chance of them resuming any kind of meaningful relationship. In fact, on previous encounters she refused to believe that he was her husband, come back from the dead. On one occasion, she'd mistaken Starbuck for him, apparently seeing something in the Colonial warrior that reminded her of a young Mark Dayton. It had been traumatic to the husband who had held her dear in his thoughts for thirty yahrens, hanging on almost desperately to her memory just to survive. Dayton had admitted one night to Starbuck, that he wondered if somewhere deep inside the fragile, bewildered old woman was some enduring fragment of his Yvonne or if Alzheimer's had completely destroyed any vestiges of the woman he had once married.
"Yvonne's coming?" Cassie asked. "I didn't think . . ."
Dayton shrugged. "As I told you, she doesn't know me, but she does know the girls." Only he referred to his middle-aged daughters as 'girls'. "Jess thought it would be good for her to get out of the home for a few hours. Yvonne livens up a bit in the evening; it has something to do with her medication, or so I'm told."
Cassie nodded, slipping an arm around the Endeavour commander.
"Come around back," Dayton told Starbuck. "The party's in full swing. The guys all made it, and a few more folks are still going to show up. Also, I have a local stout I want to introduce you to, Starbuck. I think the two of you will get along fine."
"I hate to say it, Dayton, but we don't have time. The Clavis pulsed again. Ama thinks it's a warning from the Ship of Lights to get our astrums back in gear and head back to the Fleet. She's worried if we don't set off on our own initiative, that they'll do it for us."
The joy and animation slipped from Dayton's face like a curtain dropping.
"Damn," he muttered, looking from Starbuck to Cassie, before turning to feast his eyes on the home of his childhood. It was all written there plainly on his face: indecision, regret, disappointment and concern. He looked more torn than Starbuck had ever seen him. "Just . . . damn. The teams on Phobos and Mars . . ."
"Already recalled," Starbuck cut in, while Dayton nodded slowly. Suddenly, he looked as lost as his demented wife. "We need to talk, Old Man."
Cass extracted herself from Dayton's embrace. "I'll leave you two alone."
"Cassiopeia . . ." Dayton started, a hand held out to the woman walking away from him.
"Just tell me what you decide, Mark," she said looking back at him, pushing a tendril of blonde hair from her face. "This is your decision."
xxxxx
"I know on the surface it seems like disobeying orders, Apollo, but we can't just abandon this project. It's too important. Sagan's sake, Hummer thinks that the sanctum we discovered here on Phobos is some kind of control centre for a portal that the ancient Kobollians used to explore the universe, utilizing pyramids as star gates," Dorado urged the colonel. "Remember the tomb of the ninth Lord you discovered on Kobol? And how Count Iblis appeared in the Mars pyramid, escaping from wherever the Beings of Light exiled him to? They might be linked."
"Are you suggesting that along the way to figuring it out, we try and free more evil demons that the Beings of Light have banished from their dominion?" Apollo countered over the comm to Phobos, recalling that Dorado was currently in possession of Starbuck's Empyrean talisman. "I don't know about you . . ."
"Okay," Dorado conceded, "maybe that was a bad example. But you know what I mean. Starbuck once told me that the Beings of Light said that we are as they once were, or words to that effect. What if they're the ancient Kobollians? What if their secrets are just sitting here, waiting for us to discover them? What if evolving to their level has more to do with technological prowess than spiritual growth?"
"That's a lot of 'what ifs', Dorado," Apollo replied, tempering his personal feelings on that. Dabbling in an arena where mankind could travel through space and time, and Empyrean necromancers had metaphysical powers that transcended the impossible; his once firmly entrenched belief system was being put to the test. What if the Beings of Light were actually a highly advanced civilization with their own agenda, rather than messengers or agents of the Almighty? Early Earthmen had once thought that the far advanced Kobollians were themselves, in actuality, gods. Was there a parallel to be recognized if he really stood back and looked at it objectively? Could he look at it objectively? Did spirituality necessarily have to be embodied in some kind of a tangible, recognizable form? Or was it just more comfortable that way? And what about Starbuck's reports that Baltar had become a Being of Light? While it fitted the prescribed Kobollian doctrine, was it possible that evolving beyond this dimension didn't necessarily reflect religious beliefs or aspirations held to be true for millennia? If so, what were the criteria? "Besides, if Ama thinks the Beings of Light want us to move on, then it follows that they don't want us making those kinds of discoveries. There might be a good reason for that."
"I can hardly believe you just said that, Apollo," Dorado replied.
"I'm just saying that staying behind might be putting all of you at risk, Dorado," Apollo explained.
"Are you actually trying to tell a warrior that by following through on his mission, he might be in danger?" Dorado replied. "Really?"
"If you recall the story, when we penetrated the tomb of the ninth Lord and my father started to translate the ancient script, soon afterwards the city and any Kobollian secrets were buried under the onslaught of a Cylon attack," Apollo reminded him. Were the Beings of Light trying to hide secrets from them even then? Were they easing the way to insinuating themselves into the Colonials' lives as miraculous godlike creatures when they later resurrected Apollo and provided the course to Earth? Or was the Cylon attack on Kobol simply the coincidental result of Lucifer trying to eliminate a bothersome Baltar? Regardless, Apollo's colleague was right; as warriors they dealt in danger every day. "Is everybody staying? Have you given them the option?"
"Of course," Dorado told him. "Our Mars contingent had reached the same conclusion as those here. Those that want to head back have already launched in Hybrids since this might be time sensitive. I'm forwarding you the roster now so you know who to expect."
"You know, there's a big part of me that envies you, Dorado," Apollo admitted.
Dorado smiled. Commander Adama's son envied a man who had been to Hades Hole and back, and had the cybernetic parts to show for his trouble. "Well, there's something I never thought I'd hear."
"Good luck."
"To you as well. And tell Starbuck that I'm unsubscribing from his fan club. Six hundred and sixty-six messages a day is overkill, even by Starbuckian standards."
"Six hundred and . . ." Apollo mused aloud. Why did that number seem significant?
"Dorado out."
The line went dead.