Chapter Twelve
Starbuck sprinted forward, heading for Cassiopeia and Ryan at the burial vault outside the mouth of the cave. He knew the centurions in the Raider overhead would be checking their scanners, determining what life signs were below, as they began to turn. Ten to one, on the next pass their weapons would be activated.
And locked on target.
"Cass . . ." he barked, but it wasn't necessary. The advanced med tech—turned surgeon due to necessity—was already dosing Ryan with something that made the Earthman's eyes fly open, as a low groan was torn from his lips. "What the frack did you . . .?"
"Because while he's anaesthetized, he won't breathe on his own," Cassie returned briskly, throwing equipment into her med kit, save the life mask on his face, but moving slowly because of her own injury. Apollo leapt in to help her. "I had to reverse the anaesthesia!"
"They're coming about!" Luana yelled from the mouth of the cave, her voice almost drowned by the fighter's engines, as she headed towards them at a run.
"Get out of the way, Doughnut Dunk," Dayton inserted, as Starbuck tried to position himself to pick up Ryan. "I've got him."
"Together! It'll be easier on him with a gut wound," Starbuck inserted.
"We'll draw their fire!" Dietra yelled, swiftly moving to the left, with Luana and Lia on her heels. All three women pulled their weapons, taking aim at the Raider, and firing to get their attention. They continued to move laterally, away from the others.
"You might as well throw rocks!" Dayton hollered, even as Starbuck nodded, and together they hefted a partially undressed Ryan between them in a "seat carry", a surgical drape maintaining his dignity. "Taking down a fighter with a handgun? The odds are . . well . . ."
"They know that. They're just giving us time," Starbuck returned.
"Then move, Biscotti Butt!"
"Hurry!" Apollo yelled, grabbing Cassiopeia's med kit and putting a supportive arm around her, guiding her towards the cave. Then he waved at the trolls who were watching the Cylon craft wheel about. "Get inside!"
"Is it just me, or does anybody else realize that if the Raiders start firing their lasers at the cave, they'll blow it to Hades Hole!" Baltar hollered at them. "I didn't cross dimensions to get buried alive!"
"Did you cross them to get incinerated?" Apollo countered. "Or do you have a spare air raid shelter in your back pocket?"
"Someone could draw their fire," Baltar retorted, glancing at the three women attempting just that. "Lead them away! If we don't complete the ceremony, we'll have an angel's chance in Hades Hole of stopping that Base Ship!"
"Be my guest," Dayton snarled, hearing the Raider's lasers starting to rip apart the ground. "Down!" he yelled, more for the benefit of the women who were still firing at the fighter. On his word, they broke from position, throwing themselves out of the line of fire as the Raider screamed by overhead. Lu rolled over, and kept firing at the Raider until it was obscured by the mountain top.
"Sagan, Lu . . ." Starbuck cursed, his guts twisting at the risk she had just taken. He sucked in a breath as she climbed nimbly to her feet, looking over and giving him a grin. Lia and Dietra were also unharmed.
"I hit it, Starbuck!" Lu announced proudly. "I'm sure I did."
"Let's hope so," he replied, realizing what a million to one shot would be needed to seriously harm a Raider with a hand weapon at that distance. "Let's hope so." He looked around. "Baltar . . ."
"General! With me!" Baltar snapped, pivoting abruptly and lurching in the opposite direction. "Bring your troops!"
"Baltar!" Apollo barked, turning around, Cassie still in his grip.
"Form up!" Caradoc growled, as his soldiers fell in behind them, and the small force sprinted after Baltar towards a secondary trail.
"Frack!" Starbuck cursed, slowing their pace. He didn't miss the fact that Baltar wasn't doing anything in the way of trying to get the Cylons' attention. He was just making a break for it. If Starbuck wasn't already carrying an injured man, he'd tackle the traitor himself. "We can't let him take off . . . "
"I'll go after them . . ." Apollo began.
"You can't! We need you for the ceremony!" Starbuck replied, watching Baltar and the Odreds disappear over the edge of the mountainside.
"Shizen . . ." Dayton growled.
"We'll go!" Luana called out, racing off in pursuit.
"I'm with you!" Lia hollered.
"Lord sakes, Dee," Starbuck mouthed at his wingmate, knowing the last thing she'd want to do was leave Ryan. But he'd drop the Earthman and abandon the Angylion ceremony rather than concede two young and naïve Empyrean women being assigned as Baltar's keepers in the middle of a revolution.
As if reading his mind, Cassie called out, "Ryan will be fine! I expect a full recovery!"
After glancing at the med tech, Dietra's dark eyes met Starbuck's for an instant, and she nodded. "I've got Lu! You take care of Paddy for me, Starbuck." Then she raced after the others as the Raider's engines echoed across the stones, again.
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"This is just so cool! It's like we're going to find the Stargate!" Porter enthused, from the rear of the modified Cylon shuttle. Once used to transport ground troops to decimate whatever civilization the Cylons were invading, like the Hybrid fighters, it had been rebuilt utilizing a mixture of both Cylon and Colonial technology. "Buried deep in Cheyenne Mountain, under the tightest of military security . . ."
"Stargate?" Jolly asked from the pilot's seat.
"An old TV show," Baker explained, co-piloting. He had known if he was going to be working on the aeronautics and design for the Hybrid fighter, that he should get his Colonial "wings", making it official that he could actually pilot what he worked on. Dayton had been choked that he had found the time to clock his hours, while the commander had more pressing matters that had stood in his own way. However, Mark would make it eventually, come hell or high water.
"Tee vee?" asked Jolly, brows furrowed.
"Oh, right. A colloquialism for a form of broadcast entertainment. Sort of like your IFB."
"You mean there's something in the universe as bad as IFB?" asked Jolly.
"You should see the Sci-Fi Channel," drawled Baker. "They used to replay all these old seventies series. Space 1999, Battlest . . ."
"So . . .?"
"Right. Stargate. An alien device discovered on Earth that teleported people to like portals in other galaxies."
"Your people were already thinking about co-existing galaxies? And they'd only made it as far as your moon?" Coxcoxtli inserted.
"On a manned mission, Coxman," Baker inserted. He'd given up trying to master the kid's name. It gave his tongue a charley horse. "We'd sent probes to the outer limits of our own star system."
"But they still couldn't make the food taste like home," Porter added wryly.
"You're a slave to your stomach, Porter," Baker retorted.
"And a pitiless master it is, old friend."
"Finally, an Earthman I can relate to," Jolly grinned, checking the instruments against the telemetry Luana had recorded. "All right. We should be picking it up just about . . . now."
"Whoa, Nelly!" Baker nodded, as the scanner bleeped. He leaned over, studying the data on the screen. "Yeah, I can see why it caught her attention. A definite deviation from same old, same old. I'm reading some kind of unidentified electropositive chemical compound buried deep in that mountainside." He glanced out at the beautiful valley below them, then back to the console. "The computer doesn't have anything like it in its database." He punched some keys. "Linking up with the Endeavour's mainframe. Trying to get some dope on this." He waited, then shook his head.
"Analysis?" Coxcoxtli asked.
"That will do you no good," Malus interrupted from the rear of the shuttle. "I recall the Clavis being made of some utterly indeterminable element, that was only located at the Espridian geographical poles. We couldn't identify it, and had never seen its like."
"He's right," Baker replied. "The scanners aren't happy. The big ole data bank has zilch on it, as well."
"How do we get in, Malus?" Jolly asked, checking the terrain. "I don't exactly see any directions or welcome signs."
"There's a small lake just south of the mountain. You should be able to land nearby," the IL informed the lieutenant. "I'll direct you from there."
"Gotcha," said Jolly. "The lake is on the scanners. Everyone belt in."
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"I'll take care of it, Adama," Sheba signed off on the personal matter, as she finished informing the Galactica's commander of his grandson's whereabouts before the Pegasus was out of communication range of the Fleet. The sad thing was, so caught up in his own duties, Adama hadn't known the boy was missing. After all, in the relatively safe environment of a Battlestar, and involved in a cooperative program, there were any number of places the child could have been. Sheba leaned forward across her desk, where Boxey stood on the other side with his trusty companion, Muffit. "Boxey, why?" she asked. "Why would you stow away in the cargo hold of a Pegasus shuttle? The very shuttle you knew I was leaving the Galactica on!"
"Muffit wanted to see the Pegasus," Boxey replied quietly, his eyes searching hers, obviously trying to read exactly how angry she was.
"Oh, Boxey . . ." she murmured, remembering the story Apollo had once told her about how Boxey had ended up on the mission to Arcta through similar circumstances.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, blinking his eyes furiously, and dropping his chin to his chest. "It's just that . . . I really miss my Dad." His hand slipped up to wipe at his face, but Sheba could see little beneath his hair.
She stood up, coming around the desk, and kneeling down in front of him. Tipping up his chin, she was almost surprised to see dry eyes, and frowned slightly, wondering how much of this was Boxey truly missing his father, and how much was him using it as an excuse to act out. A flare of annoyance swept over her, but just as quickly she quashed it, trying to draw on her own life experiences, and recalling that her own mother's anger as she rebelled at her father's absence had only made her feel worse. More alone.
Some things never change.
"Boxey, I know you miss your father, but I think you're old enough to understand that you don't stow away on shuttles. Aren't you?"
He nodded briefly, not meeting her gaze as his lip popped out petulantly.
"You know, when my father used to go away, I ended up getting into all kinds of trouble, as well," Sheba admitted. Part of her felt like she was talking to herself, aged seven.
He looked up at her then, cocking his head to the side, but not replying. At least she had his attention.
"I think I was so upset and angry that he had left me, that I just . . . felt like doing crazy things . . . things I knew I would get in trouble for."
He seemed to think about it, his hand curling tightly in the daggit's fur.
"Even as adults, when we're upset we do things that we know are wrong." How long had she held a grudge against Cassiopeia, for offering her father such blessed things as love and companionship, after her mother was gone? "It takes courage to admit we're wrong . . . especially when we're still hurting."
"Can I go now?" he asked, glancing at the door that was slightly ajar, promising escape.
She blinked, not exactly expecting that response. "Where exactly do you think you're going to go?"
He smiled. "To the Bridge."
Everything she had said seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. Apparently she wasn't getting through. "Boxey, this is a secure military vessel. We don't have family quarters, and the Bridge is a restricted area."
"Then . . . where can I go? The Rejuvenation Centre?"
Despite what he had done wrong, he still thought he should be playing games in the Rejuvenation Centre. Maybe she'd been too understanding, too sympathetic. "For a start, to my quarters, which it looks like you'll be sharing with me."
"But I wanted to bunk with Silver Spar Squadron!" he protested sullenly. "I know there's room!"
"No," she replied quietly. Calmly. Not at all how she felt, having become the sole guardian of Apollo's son. How could she be the strike captain, and look after Boxey too? "The billet isn't fully rebuilt, yet."
"You can't keep me confined to quarters!"
"Wanna bet?" It was out of her mouth before she could say, "like father, like daughter". His eyes opened widely. She took a deep breath, realizing she didn't respond well to defiance. Apollo had mentioned that a time or two. "It isn't my intention to confine you to quarters . . . but since you're here, I'm going to have to figure out what exactly I'm going to do with you. The Pegasus is very different from the Galactica, Boxey. We've had to be. We've been combat ready since leaving the Colonies for Molecay with the Fifth Fleet. We've never had proper facilities for families aboard. This is going to be a real adjustment for you, Boxey, and for me! Lord Suffering Sagan, if I was fully manned, I'd stuff you in a jump seat and send you back in the fastest Viper we have. This is no place for a child!"
His bottom lip trembled, and this time tears welled up in his eyes. "You d-don't want me . . . either . . ." the last words were barely decipherable. He dashed for the door, and was through it before Sheba could say, "Oh, frack!"
"Boxey!" she shouted. "Come back here!"
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"I want my pants back . . ." Ryan groaned, between Starbuck and Dayton as they carried him into the Holy Sanctum, within the cave, following Apollo and Cassie. "Is anyone actually listening to me? I want my pants!"
"We have a Cylon Raider turning about to start another strafing run, and he may send for reinforcements, Baltar making a break for it, and you're worried about your modesty!" Dayton snapped in disbelief, even as the surgical drape that was partially covering his friend from the waist down began to pool around Ryan's lap. "You're alive, Paddy! You hear me? You're still breathing, you godless Canuck! That's what matters!"
"I don't want the rest of you guys . . . getting an inferiority complex . . ." Ryan grunted between clenched teeth. "After all, Mother Ryan taught us humility!"
"You never let up," Starbuck shook his head, looking from Ryan to Dayton. "He's worse than me."
Cassie snorted, but said nothing. Apollo sniffed knowingly.
"I'd say it's a close race," Dayton returned, waiting for Apollo and Cassie to stretch out a blanket on the ground. "As to who's the most annoying of the two of you, it's a toss up. Too close to call."
"Where's Dietra?" Ryan breathed, as they started to settle him back on the blanket. Cassie quickly gave him another dose of painkiller from the hypo. "She'll get my pants. If I ask nicely, that is."
"As I was starting to tell you, she went after Baltar with Luana and Lia," Dayton replied, glancing at the Odred sorceress and Empyrean necromancer. Torches were now lit all around the cave, and from what he could tell, they were ready for this occult ceremony to raise the dead.
"Did he really . . . take off, eh?" Ryan asked, a faint smile on his lips.
"Yeah, Doug McKenzie, he really did . . . ya Hoser," Dayton returned.
"Beauty," rasped Ryan. A loud whine of weapons fire from outside followed.
Abruptly, the cave shook, debris falling from above. Dayton grabbed Cassie, pushing her to the ground, and threw himself over both her and Ryan. Starbuck grabbed the med kit, pulling it over his and Dayton's heads for protection as he joined the "daggit pile".
"Cylon salvos!" Apollo yelled, voicing what was in everybody's mind as he leapt for cover. The Raider was hitting them with everything it had, despite Baltar's supposed diversion.
"Just tell me my pants aren't still outside," a voice called from the bottom of the pile.
"They aren't," replied Dayton.
"Liar, liar . . . pants on fire . . ."
"More likely incinerated," Starbuck retorted.
"Ohhh!"
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Luana poured on the speed, keeping Baltar in sight as she scrambled down the steep trail on the mountain. The traitor was in mediocre physical condition, at best, and she knew it would take no time at all to catch up with him and his party of Odreds. All the same, at any moment the Cylon Raider would come tearing through the air above her on a strafing run, breaking over the edge of the cliff like an ominous tidal wave bent on their destruction.
Suddenly, the sound of lasers ripping up the ground above them made her stop. The Raider was firing on the cave, obviously not noticing a small party of Humans fleeing down the path that was probably meant for mountain caprines. The diversion had failed. All too quickly, an image of Starbuck being crushed under falling stone and debris surged through her imagination.
"Frack!" she cursed, aiming her weapon at the sky, and firing back towards the cave. She had to get their attention, and draw their fire. "Over here, Metal Heads!" she screamed, shooting successive rounds off into the air. "C'mon . . ."
"By Llyr," Caradoc cried, as he stopped, then turned to witness the fearless display. "Such courage! She must have Angylion blood!"
"There's one chance in a million that she'll do any damage," Baltar muttered beside him, his own weapon held ready.
"Run!" Lia yelled at Luana, only metrons behind her. Dietra was right on her heels.
"I just need to see . . ." Lu began, when the Raider banked, veering off sharply, and coming about as it rolled. It was heading towards them! Yes!
"Lu!"
Lu nodded, ignoring her sister's plea. Standing stock still, she lined up the Cylon fighter in her sights, and fired.
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When they landed the Cylon transport near the lake as directed, Malus looked around a few moments, then proceeded as though the last time he had visited this secret Espridian retreat was days ago, not a centi-yahren. What struck the humans was the white rock face of the mountain that towered over them, like Yosemite or the Cliffs of Dover, back on Earth. And although there were no visible traces of a former trail or pathway that they could see, the IL confidently moved forward, finally halting where the sheer drop came to an abrupt stop.
Baker looked upward, placing a hand on the hard, warm surface of the rock. "If Dayton was here, he'd probably want to climb it."
"Yeah," Porter nodded, pausing a moment to catch his breath.
"Why?" Malus asked, stopping and turning back to look at them.
"Because it's there," the Earthmen responded in concert.
"And that justifies an attempt at climbing it?" asked Malus, clearly confused.
"Oh yeah," said Porter.
"I do not understand," said Malus, looking from them, back to the cliff ahead.
"Chill out, Mal," said Baker. "It's a Human thing."
"Oh. I . . . see." He paused. "Actually, it doesn't compute. However, I shall store the data along with psionics, love, luck, humour, and religion as being coexistent in the universe despite the lack of a clear scientific explanation."
"How do we get in?" Jolly asked. "Did these guys even need an entrance?"
"They didn't," admitted Malus, "however, I most certainly did."
"So, where is it?" Coxcoxtli asked.
"Right in front of you," Malus replied, sounding pleased with himself.
"That's solid rock in front of us, Mal," Baker told him.
"Psionic energy is making you believe it to be so," Malus replied.
"Mal, the Espridians are dead. Where is this . . . psionic energy coming from?"
"The Clavis," Malus replied, motioning towards the rock. "Please. Proceed."
The four humans looked at him sceptically.
The IL shook his head dramatically, 'sighing', "Oh, very well." He stepped forward into the mountainside, disappearing.
"Holy . . ." said Coxcoxtli.
Baker glanced at Porter, whose mouth was hanging open. "You wanna go next?"
Porter shook his head, looking to the Colonials who both seemed to take a step back. He glanced back at Baker. "Rock, paper, scissors?"
"Seems fair to me." He smiled at Jolly and Coxcoxtli, holding up his hand. "Okay, boys, the first time's for demonstration, the next time's for keeps. Let's go."
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It was a charmed moment in time when Baltar had known instinctively that the young woman's shot was on target, as she stood there lining up the old Cylon Raider. He didn't even see Starbuck's wife tackled by her sister, or hear the inevitable Cylon salvos start tearing up the ground. Instead, he lined up his own impossible shot to follow hers, innately picturing a ruptured fuel cell, and his own blast of Colonial energy that struck the underside of the hull, raising sparks, and leaving a trail of black smoke in the ship's wake. It was better than having his old podium on the Cylon Base Ship. Much better.
The traitor fired again, once more hitting the now-wobbling fighter. One wing erupted in flame, as the laser penetrated the fuel tank. Bare microns later, the Raider above them exploded magnificently, flaring into a fireball, before becoming a flaming projectile of destruction that hurled into a nearby crest of rock. A subsequent explosion rocked the mountain, setting trees and brush alight, as smoke and debris filled the air. Baltar chuckled, altogether too gleefully, only now noticing that the scarred path of the salvos that had been ripping up the ground stopped just short of him. He laughed again, feeling unfamiliar emotions burbling up inside of him, filling places he had thought long gone. He had defied death once again this day, not because of someone else's reflexes, but because of his own bravery and skill. After all those yahrens of Cylon coercion, treachery, subjugation, humiliation, and self-loathing, Sagan's sake it felt good to kill them.
"Nice shooting!" Dietra called out, cutting off his laughter. She looked from the still-burning wreckage of the Raider, then back to Baltar. "Nice shot, er . . . Baltar." She was looking at him suspiciously, and, old bureautician that he was, he could read her thoughts almost before she could think them. Her laser wasn't quite trained on him, but with a flick of her wrist, it could be. She had thought he was turning tail and running.
"Those centurions had to come from somewhere, Lieutenant. There's no way a Cylon patrol could take the same mountain pass that we did, and come out unscathed or undetected. I suspect there must be a spot to land somewhere nearby, where they left a troop transport."
"A troop transport?" Lia asked. "I've never heard of a Cylon troop transport."
"Before your time, Ensign," Baltar returned. "When the Cylons sought to conquer a world, rather than just destroy the inhabitants, they would deploy ground troops and landrams from transports, working along with air support. Eventually, when our battlefield became the galaxy, and campaigns were more commonly fought in space rather than on planetary surfaces, transports were less commonly used. General?" He glanced at Caradoc.
"As you said, there is a site that they used for deploying troops from their flying armoured vehicle," Caradoc replied, pointing in the distance. "If we hurry, we might get there before they realize their task force has been destroyed."
Baltar nodded, feeling a surge of confidence race through him. "With an injured man, a ride off this mountain could be useful. We might be able to deceive them."
"We don't have a vocal modifier here," Dietra inserted.
"Strangely enough, you can get a similar effect by simply pressing on your larynx, creating a vibrato," Baltar replied with a faint smile, thinking back to when he was a kid playing Colonial Warriors and Cylons. Oddly enough, or possibly prophetically, he usually was stuck being the Cylon. Being the bad guy was almost always more fun. He pressed against his throat, illustrating his point. "With-communications-being-what-they-were-a hundred-yahrens-ago, I'm-willing-to-bet-we-could-pull-it-off."
"Holy frack," Luana murmured. "That could work!"
"Only if we take that transport!" Lia added.
"And quickly," Baltar nodded.
Dietra glanced at the general. "How far?"
"Two thousand paces," Caradoc returned, pointing down the mountain. "Perhaps a little more."
"Pardon me for asking, but is that Odred paces, or Angylion?" Luana asked.
Caradoc sniffed. "Angylion, of course."
She nodded. "Let's be careful. They may have left someone on guard."
"Understood," said Baltar.
Dietra raised her eyebrows, shaking her head almost imperceptibly at the strange team that had come together, before waving them ahead. "Let's go! We'll comm the commander later! When we know more!"
"Yeah, he'll like that!" Lu scoffed, as they took off at a run.
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The dust hung in the darkened chamber, making it hard to breath. Chunks of the cave roof had started coming down around them, extinguishing torches, and shaking the mountain, when the Cylons started firing on the Holy Sanctum. The abrupt cessation of Cylon salvos slamming into the cavern, and the explosion only moments later, had been two surprises that Starbuck hadn't been counting on. Not only had Lu, Dietra and Lia been able to draw the Raider's fire, but they had somehow destroyed it. Now that would be a story worth hearing over an Empyrean Ale back on the Endeavour. Providing, of course, they were all okay. Part of him wanted to burst out of the cave, following his wife down the trail to reassure himself she was indeed unharmed. Of course, he could just ask Ama . . .
"Everybody okay?" Starbuck hollered, coughing as he inhaled the thick air. He could hear Cassie murmuring reassuringly to Ryan. "I can't see a fracking thing! Count off!" He pulled the heavy medical kit off him and Dayton, sure that something inside was dented beyond repair. Better it than them.
"Fine," Apollo choked out, shaking debris off as he climbed to his feet. "Dayton?"
"I'm alright," Dayton replied, kneeling back and delving into his own pack, trying to find some illuminators. "This bloody thing is like my Mom's purse. As usual, the thing you want is always at the very bottom! Cassiopeia?"
"Ryan and I are okay as well," Cassiopeia replied.
"Half-naked, but alright," the Earthman added. "At least the lights are out."
"Ama?" Starbuck called, squinting as illuminators flared to life from Dayton's position as well as Apollo's. He reached out, taking the one Dayton offered. "Eirys?"
"We are unharmed, Starbuck," Eirys called. "Shaken, but otherwise fine."
Starbuck followed the tone of her voice, climbing to his feet to follow it. Sure enough, both necromancer and sorceress were unscathed as they stood between the altars that the Angylion princes rested upon. As he drew closer, he realized there was not a bit of debris on any of them. No dust. No dirt. No grime. It was as though they had been somehow protected from the attack. But somehow that didn't seem as important as . . .
"Luana and Lia?" he asked, looking at Ama.
"I sense their life forces, Starbuck," Ama replied, nodding. "They still walk this world."
"What about Dietra, Ama?" Ryan called out. "Can you tell if she's . . . well . . . you know."
"I do indeed," Ama replied. "I sense hers as well, Paddy-Ryan."
"By Llyr, we have been fortunate!" Eirys exclaimed.
"Luck has a way of changing," Dayton proclaimed. "You can bet they saw that explosion. They'll send another fighter to investigate what happened to the first, when it doesn't answer. If you're going to awaken these boys, then you have to get on with it, before we all get blown to Hell."
"Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Ama replied, glancing at the Odred female. "Hag?"
"I've been ready nigh on ten years, White Witch," Eirys replied. "Let us begin."
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Looking up at the mountain, Commander Mendax mulled the flash of light and distant rumble that had echoed down the valley. While the patrol being out of communication was not a concern at the moment, the fighter sent to back them up was not answering. That was. Something wasn't right here. He looked from the brooding peak, to the hovels of the local workers. Whatever it was, they sensed it as well.
"Centurion?" he said. A silver-coloured soldier approached.
"By-your-command."
"Round up some of the workers. I want them questioned. What is it about the mountain that excites them so?" He looked at the centurion. "Spare no pains. Especially theirs."
"By-your-command."
"I shall be in the Command Centre preparing for the countdown."