The Lost Warrior 08 - Conspiracies
Title: The Lost Warrior
Author: Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the secondary index page
Author’s notes:
Commander Xaviar (Richard Lynch) has been borrowed from the ill-remembered “Galactica 1980”. He was about the only character of interest there, and it’d have been a waste to leave him there.
Lieutenant Troy (Mickalean McCormick) would have been the adult Boxey in Richard Hatch’s “Second Coming”. I promoted him and turned him into an original character. Siress Aeriana is an original character, “played” by Joan Collins as her most devious Alexis self from “Denver”. The identity of the other two conspirators will be revealed later.
Metric is the Colonial equivalent of a kilometer, although I’ve seen the word kilometron, too. A dodecada is a time unit of 12 yahrens.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER 08 - CONSPIRACIES
In one of the recently built, spacious estate houses of Ultima Thule, the capital (and so far only) city of New Scorpia, an exclusive meeting was taking place. The host of the meeting was a deceivingly mild-faced, emaciated, old-line politician from before the Destruction. He also happened to be the head of one of the most ancient, once most powerful patrician Houses of Scorpia; he was also all that had remained of his House. At the age of nearly a hundred yahrens, it was a sobering thought.
While nominally a democracy, Scorpia had always been ruled by the Great Houses, some of which supposedly could lead back their bloodlines to the Lords of Kobol themselves. However, the wielders of true power had always remained in the background, ruling through their influence rather than through visible presence. Not even their true names had been common knowledge; they had chosen a simple one for daily use, and few people could ever make the connection.
Like his fellow patricians, the old man had always remained in the background, so that nobody would suspect his involvement in a surprising number of questionable actions that had been going on behind the scenes ever since the late President Adar had called for the Renaissance to usher in a new golden age. Nonetheless, those who knew him from close acquaintance (and those were few in number) also knew that he was one of the shrewdest players in the power game, one that had to be counted with.
In fact, he’d been aide-to-camp to Sire Adar for a long time, having supported the President’s actions in reducing the budget for defence, with the argument that peace had never before been accomplished because the military had too much interest in the continued conflict. At the same time, however, he’d kept good contacts to the highest military leaders, like Commanders Adama, Cain or Kronus, which had brought him the office of the President after the Destruction, when a temporary assemblage of newly-appointed Councillors had formed a new Quorum.
He’d ruled the survivors of the Twelve Worlds during the long flight from the Cylons, on their pilgrimage to Earth, constantly struggling to wrest back the real power from the military, never truly believing that Earth would exist in the first place, and even less that they would find it. Earth was a legend that Adama had used to keep up the hopes of a desperate people and to keep them going - nothing more.
Had he known that they would find it, and so soon, he’d have made his move a lot earlier, instead of allowing that greedy idiot Uri or that hot-headed fool Gamesh to try their hands on the game. He’d thought he had time - that had been a mistake, something that he couldn’t have taken into consideration.
It didn’t matter, though. Old he might be, but he was still there, and while the new situation demanded more careful moves - the many observers of the Federation could seriously endanger his plans - it also offered new alliances. More powerful ones than he’d had for a long time.
First, however, he needed to knot some loose ties. Starting with re-establishing old alliances that had been neglected during the last two yahrens of hectic rebuilding. He needed people whom he could trust. Granted, those were not very numerous, but they were powerful, shrewd and ruthless.
At the moment, he had three of those in his atrium: the oldest ones, who’d held loyalty to him for dodecadas, and so well-concealed that nobody had ever learned about their connection. He still had others on his list, also in important positions, but they could wait. These three came first.
The most important among them was the silver-haired military governor of New Sagittara. He’d come in civilian disguise, but his entire posture was practically screaming professional warrior, even with one of his sleeves hanging empty. The old politician suppressed as smile. The commander could have had replaced that arm he’d lost in the Battle of Molecay, Federation biotechnology made such reconstructions possible. But Xaviar stubbornly refused to let go of the visible proof of his useless heroism - it made him a living legend in the eyes of his people.
Not that he’d need it, the old man thought with a barely visible shake of his head. While considered a democracy, in truth Sagittara had been ruled by the military since the beginning of the Thousand Yahren War - and that hadn’t changed in their new home, either. But if Xaviar wanted to enter a popularity contest with the civilian opposition (an opposition that never had the chance to get the upper hand, unless the Whole Sagittarian Statutes got turned upside down), who was he to hinder the man in such small pleasures? Xaviar’s position as the planetary leader was as stable as any position could be, and that was what mattered.
Yes; the Chief Warlord of New Sagittara was a useful and trustworthy ally, but a way too visible one. In really sensitive matters the old man preferred to depend on the two women currently accompanying them.
Siress Berenice, whose true name was only known to him and to some old archivists in these days, as she used a much more mundane one in public, was a woman about his own age; the last spawn of a once incredibly powerful family. Her originally blonde hair was so mixed with silver now that it would have been hard to guess its original colour. Nonetheless, like blondes usually did, she looked considerably younger than her actual age. She wore clothes of subdued elegance, very unlike her usual public appearance, and a somewhat watery smile that never really reached her cold blue eyes.
Siress Aeriana, a middle-aged, olive-skinned Arian noblewoman with the jet-black hair and jewelled eyes of her tribe, belonged to a younger generation of power-players. She’d learned the art of scheming at her mother’s knees and had been an active player since her coming of age. Not only was she the most ruthless of them all, she’d also managed to raise her own following of equally ruthless dependents who’d follow her orders without a blink of an eye. Regardless of her usefulness, though, she lacked that certain elusive finesse that made Siress Berenice so unique.
The four of them were the masterminds behind the intricate web that had been woven since the Destruction. All the others were secondary players of various use and thus could be sacrificed when necessary. It was a heady feeling to know that, but the old man kept that feeling under tight control. Overconfidence could lead to spectacular failures, as Sire Uri’s example had shown, and he was not willing to make the same mistake.
“Well, my friends,” the old man said with his trademark patronizing nasality that had always driven his fellow Councillors crazy, “things seem to be moving forward again. We’ve made contact with Mu Leonis,” he intentionally used the indigenous name of the Federation world to confuse eventual listeners, although he doubted that anyone would have placed listening devices in his house. “The preliminary negotiations have been closed. Soon, New Sagittara will be equipped with the most sophisticated defence systems of all our worlds - just like it was the case in our old home. We’ll make the planet an unbreakable fortress, so that we’d have a safe place to retreat to. And then… then we’ll make our move.”
“That could take yahrens,” the Sagittarian said with a dissatisfied scowl.
“It could… and it most likely will,” the old man said calmly. “But we have time. We can’t afford to ruin our chance by impatience as that greedy fool Uri had done over Carillon.”
“That was too early and too spontaneous,” Siress Berenice agreed. The Sagittarian raised an eyebrow.
“That’s how you see it? It was idiotic and suicidal, I would say. You couldn’t have really planned to disarm our Fleet - well, what was left of it anyway - and expect the Cylons to become all nice and friendly because of that one self-destructive act. If I agreed with Adama in one thing, which I do only reluctantly, it would be that one couldn’t trust the Cylons.”
“Of course not,” the old man nodded calmly. “If anything, we’ve learned that much at Cimtar. Even those who’d been naïve enough to believe differently before.”
“Why did you allow Uri to act freely then?” the Sagittarian demanded angrily, the old burn marks on his deformed face glowing in dark red as always when he got agitated.
“I had my reasons,” the old man remained completely unfazed as ever. “First of all, Uri was already too far gone in his delusions of grandeur. Had I tried to stop him, he’d have tried to blackmail me into cooperation. I didn’t want to give him the idea that he was in position to blackmail me into anything - so I didn’t give him the chance in the first place. Besides, letting him suffer a spectacular defeat helped to put him to his right place.”
“That was an awfully big risk to take,” the Sagittarian said accusingly.
The old man shrugged. “Not really. I knew Adama and Tigh would come up with something. They always did. They’re no fools. The crisis also helped us to calculate the forces Adama could mobilize and the extent of his influence over the military. It was… informative. It helped us to plan our next moves better.”
“And it only cost us a few dozen deads, eaten by the Ovion larvae,” the Sagittarian commented bitterly.
The old man blinked at him with false benevolence but had a hard time to restrain himself. Military men always thought so two-dimensionally. Dealing with them could be really… tiring sometimes.
“What’s wrong, my dear Xaviar?” he asked mildly. “Are you getting doubts about our goals?”
“Oh, I have no problems with our goals at all,” the Sagittarian replied with the same forced friendliness. “I just don’t like your methods sometimes, that’s all.” He rose. “Is there anything else? I have a planet to rule back home.”
The other three stared at the closing door for a long time after his departure.
“He might become a problem, eventually,” Siress Aeriana said thoughtfully. Her jewelled eyes were cold like space itself.
“Perhaps in time,” the old man allowed. “He’s got used to the role of a hero… he’s grown comfortable with it and forgets about his obligations sometimes. But he won’t move against us. Not yet, not as long as the defence systems of New Sagittara aren’t installed. After that, though… yes, he might become a problem.”
“If he does, my dependents will be ready for him,” Aeriana replied coldly.
“Removing him won’t do us any good if we don’t have a replacement ready,” Siress Berenice reminded the other two. “A vacuum of power would be most… impractical for us. We need new dependents on Sagittara.”
“No,” the old man said. “We need something better than just dependents. We need someone from an old military clan who is capable of independent thinking and is allied to us because it’s in his best interest.”
“That could be a problem,” Siress Aeriana said wryly. “Sagittarian military education doesn’t exactly encourage thinking of any kind, unless it’s about strategy.”
“True,” the old man admitted, “although a good strategist could be of use. And there are exceptions, even on Sagittara.”
He looked at Siress Berenice whose task it always had been to keep tab on promising candidates of the younger generation. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“What about Troy?” she asked.
“Too young,” Aeriana riposted promptly.
“But he’s Sagittarian, the last twig of an old and well-respected clan,” Berenice pointed out. “And highly decorated. He just made Strike Captain when the battlestar Columbia was destroyed. He’s also very ambitious, with no hope for further promotion in the near future.”
“He is a possibility,” the old man agreed. “We’ll have to groom him carefully for his future position, though.”
Berenice shrugged. “You have the best possible bait in your hand to tempt such a young stud. It would serve them both.”
“Perhaps,” the old man said. “But she’s a dark equine, just like her father was. Right now, she’s ours, out of hurt pride and disappointment. But she’s used to get her own way in everything. She might turn against us just as easily.”
“That would be unfortunate… for her,” Aeriana commented icily. Berenice shook her head.
“Not for her alone, I’m afraid. We can’t afford too many… unfortunate accidents in our proximity. That could draw unwanted attention, which we must avoid at all costs.” She thought about it for a centon, then apparently came to a decision. “There’s another way. Slower but less risky. I can introduce them to each other socially.”
“That would work?” Aeriana doubted.
“Why not?” Berenice asked back. “They are both about the same age, both ambitious, both frustrated… once he swallows the bait, we can begin to pull him closer. And she would jump at the chance to nail someone of position, good breeding… and good looks.”
They both looked expectantly at the old man who nodded.
“It could work,” he judged. “And it would look like a natural thing, not to mention keeping her occupied. Very well. Let’s give it a try. Is there anything else?”
“Uri,” Aeriana prompted. “How long are we going to drag him with us? He’s played his role and not to well, I may add. He’s nothing but dead weight now.”
The old man shrugged. “He was re-elected, which secures us the cooperation of Leonis. He still has some use - for now. We’ll use him as a pawn as long as we need him. then we’ll throw him to the lupines.”
“The sooner the better,” Berenice murmured worriedly. “He’s too great a risk. He knows too much. He knows you - and he knows me. The real me. I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” the old man admitted. “I was against Adar sharing all our secrets with him from the beginning, but our late President wasn’t exactly the kind of man who’d listen to his aides. But we can’t get rid of Uri right now. Not before we learn for certain what happened to Gamesh.”
“Gamesh is dead,” Aeriana said impatiently. “I have witnesses who saw his shuttle explode just short the Fleet. There was nothing left but glowing pieces of metal. Those people who reported sightings of him must have been on bliss.”
“Perhaps,” the old man said. “But we must not give up the search. The man had been a politician since his youngest adult yahrens, and he used to work with Uri before he decided he was the Libran saviour. You should never underestimate a high-ranking member of the Libran oligarchy. They are tough and they are shrewd - and they have connections.”
“Very well,” Aeriana shrugged. “We’ll keep looking for him. Although I think it’s a waste of time and resources.”
“We do have the time,” the old man replied sharply, "and they’re my resources to waste.”
“Very true,” Aeriana agreed primly. “Well, if that was all, I’m due to visit the Orion today. Someone has to keep our self-proclaimed matriarch updated.”
The old man nodded, and the Arian Councillor took her leave. Berenice stayed for a moment longer.
“The young ones are getting impertinent, Antiochus,” she said calling him on his true name nobody else knew any longer; the two of them had been allies and sometimes lovers for almost eighty yahrens by now. “They don’t want to be led and guided anymore. They want to go their own way.”
“They underestimate their elders,” the old man said. “They will learn what a big mistake that could be. That they can be replaced, like everyone else. Not yet… but as soon as the next generation is ready to take their place.”
“What will that happen?” Berenice asked doubtfully. “We’re old, Antiochus. Soon, we won’t have the strength to keep all ties in our hands, and our allies are wavering.”
“They are getting nervous that they won’t have the chance to come to true power before the young lionets grow strong enough to show their claws,” the old man said with a chilling smile. “Perhaps they are right. We still have a few yahrens left to raise our successors - young and strong and determined ones. We shall leave our stamp on the New Colonies, worry not. Our work will survive us.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thousands of metrics away, aboard the Galactica, Dr. Salik was still working in his lab in the Life Center. He’d sent Kreon back to his quarters centares ago. Even the unwearying Dr. Sekhet had left to perform his daily meditations, without which no Vulcan could lead an ordered life in the long run. But Salik couldn’t stop working. He had the strong feeling that he was close to his goal, very close.
They’d gone through the entire medical database. They’d filtered out everyone with a purely monotribal parentage. They’d filtered out the hybrids without a Leonid parent and ordered the remaining files in twelve piles, according to the tribe of the other parent. Salik was now checking out every single one of those piles.
He’d started with Caprican hybrids, based on the simple fact that Starbuck was one of those himself- When he hadn’t found anything, he began to go through every pile systematically, fully expecting to spend the night in the lab. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He’d been through seven piles already, and his eyes started to tear up from sheer exhaustion when he finally found the right file. When he saw the name, he frowned and asked the computer for the patient’s family tree. It was a long and complicated one. He studied the last three generations and checked them for possible Leonid connections.
There was only one - the same patient whose file he’d sought for and finally found. But it still didn’t answer his question, so he checked the Leonid side of the family, which produced an equally long and complicated family tree. He asked the computer to compare the two family trees for possible intersections - and the seemingly random details suddenly slid into place with an almost audible click. Like a kaleidoscope after a curious child had shaken it thoroughly.
Shaken was the right expression for Salik’s own state of mind, too. He fell onto a stool heavily and stared into the emptiness of his lab in deep shock.
“Sagan,” he murmured to the universe in general, “what in Hades have we gotten ourselves into?”
But the universe, as usual, failed to give him an answer.
Chapter 09 - Curiosity Killed the Cat
Author: Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the secondary index page
Author’s notes:
Commander Xaviar (Richard Lynch) has been borrowed from the ill-remembered “Galactica 1980”. He was about the only character of interest there, and it’d have been a waste to leave him there.
Lieutenant Troy (Mickalean McCormick) would have been the adult Boxey in Richard Hatch’s “Second Coming”. I promoted him and turned him into an original character. Siress Aeriana is an original character, “played” by Joan Collins as her most devious Alexis self from “Denver”. The identity of the other two conspirators will be revealed later.
Metric is the Colonial equivalent of a kilometer, although I’ve seen the word kilometron, too. A dodecada is a time unit of 12 yahrens.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER 08 - CONSPIRACIES
In one of the recently built, spacious estate houses of Ultima Thule, the capital (and so far only) city of New Scorpia, an exclusive meeting was taking place. The host of the meeting was a deceivingly mild-faced, emaciated, old-line politician from before the Destruction. He also happened to be the head of one of the most ancient, once most powerful patrician Houses of Scorpia; he was also all that had remained of his House. At the age of nearly a hundred yahrens, it was a sobering thought.
While nominally a democracy, Scorpia had always been ruled by the Great Houses, some of which supposedly could lead back their bloodlines to the Lords of Kobol themselves. However, the wielders of true power had always remained in the background, ruling through their influence rather than through visible presence. Not even their true names had been common knowledge; they had chosen a simple one for daily use, and few people could ever make the connection.
Like his fellow patricians, the old man had always remained in the background, so that nobody would suspect his involvement in a surprising number of questionable actions that had been going on behind the scenes ever since the late President Adar had called for the Renaissance to usher in a new golden age. Nonetheless, those who knew him from close acquaintance (and those were few in number) also knew that he was one of the shrewdest players in the power game, one that had to be counted with.
In fact, he’d been aide-to-camp to Sire Adar for a long time, having supported the President’s actions in reducing the budget for defence, with the argument that peace had never before been accomplished because the military had too much interest in the continued conflict. At the same time, however, he’d kept good contacts to the highest military leaders, like Commanders Adama, Cain or Kronus, which had brought him the office of the President after the Destruction, when a temporary assemblage of newly-appointed Councillors had formed a new Quorum.
He’d ruled the survivors of the Twelve Worlds during the long flight from the Cylons, on their pilgrimage to Earth, constantly struggling to wrest back the real power from the military, never truly believing that Earth would exist in the first place, and even less that they would find it. Earth was a legend that Adama had used to keep up the hopes of a desperate people and to keep them going - nothing more.
Had he known that they would find it, and so soon, he’d have made his move a lot earlier, instead of allowing that greedy idiot Uri or that hot-headed fool Gamesh to try their hands on the game. He’d thought he had time - that had been a mistake, something that he couldn’t have taken into consideration.
It didn’t matter, though. Old he might be, but he was still there, and while the new situation demanded more careful moves - the many observers of the Federation could seriously endanger his plans - it also offered new alliances. More powerful ones than he’d had for a long time.
First, however, he needed to knot some loose ties. Starting with re-establishing old alliances that had been neglected during the last two yahrens of hectic rebuilding. He needed people whom he could trust. Granted, those were not very numerous, but they were powerful, shrewd and ruthless.
At the moment, he had three of those in his atrium: the oldest ones, who’d held loyalty to him for dodecadas, and so well-concealed that nobody had ever learned about their connection. He still had others on his list, also in important positions, but they could wait. These three came first.
The most important among them was the silver-haired military governor of New Sagittara. He’d come in civilian disguise, but his entire posture was practically screaming professional warrior, even with one of his sleeves hanging empty. The old politician suppressed as smile. The commander could have had replaced that arm he’d lost in the Battle of Molecay, Federation biotechnology made such reconstructions possible. But Xaviar stubbornly refused to let go of the visible proof of his useless heroism - it made him a living legend in the eyes of his people.
Not that he’d need it, the old man thought with a barely visible shake of his head. While considered a democracy, in truth Sagittara had been ruled by the military since the beginning of the Thousand Yahren War - and that hadn’t changed in their new home, either. But if Xaviar wanted to enter a popularity contest with the civilian opposition (an opposition that never had the chance to get the upper hand, unless the Whole Sagittarian Statutes got turned upside down), who was he to hinder the man in such small pleasures? Xaviar’s position as the planetary leader was as stable as any position could be, and that was what mattered.
Yes; the Chief Warlord of New Sagittara was a useful and trustworthy ally, but a way too visible one. In really sensitive matters the old man preferred to depend on the two women currently accompanying them.
Siress Berenice, whose true name was only known to him and to some old archivists in these days, as she used a much more mundane one in public, was a woman about his own age; the last spawn of a once incredibly powerful family. Her originally blonde hair was so mixed with silver now that it would have been hard to guess its original colour. Nonetheless, like blondes usually did, she looked considerably younger than her actual age. She wore clothes of subdued elegance, very unlike her usual public appearance, and a somewhat watery smile that never really reached her cold blue eyes.
Siress Aeriana, a middle-aged, olive-skinned Arian noblewoman with the jet-black hair and jewelled eyes of her tribe, belonged to a younger generation of power-players. She’d learned the art of scheming at her mother’s knees and had been an active player since her coming of age. Not only was she the most ruthless of them all, she’d also managed to raise her own following of equally ruthless dependents who’d follow her orders without a blink of an eye. Regardless of her usefulness, though, she lacked that certain elusive finesse that made Siress Berenice so unique.
The four of them were the masterminds behind the intricate web that had been woven since the Destruction. All the others were secondary players of various use and thus could be sacrificed when necessary. It was a heady feeling to know that, but the old man kept that feeling under tight control. Overconfidence could lead to spectacular failures, as Sire Uri’s example had shown, and he was not willing to make the same mistake.
“Well, my friends,” the old man said with his trademark patronizing nasality that had always driven his fellow Councillors crazy, “things seem to be moving forward again. We’ve made contact with Mu Leonis,” he intentionally used the indigenous name of the Federation world to confuse eventual listeners, although he doubted that anyone would have placed listening devices in his house. “The preliminary negotiations have been closed. Soon, New Sagittara will be equipped with the most sophisticated defence systems of all our worlds - just like it was the case in our old home. We’ll make the planet an unbreakable fortress, so that we’d have a safe place to retreat to. And then… then we’ll make our move.”
“That could take yahrens,” the Sagittarian said with a dissatisfied scowl.
“It could… and it most likely will,” the old man said calmly. “But we have time. We can’t afford to ruin our chance by impatience as that greedy fool Uri had done over Carillon.”
“That was too early and too spontaneous,” Siress Berenice agreed. The Sagittarian raised an eyebrow.
“That’s how you see it? It was idiotic and suicidal, I would say. You couldn’t have really planned to disarm our Fleet - well, what was left of it anyway - and expect the Cylons to become all nice and friendly because of that one self-destructive act. If I agreed with Adama in one thing, which I do only reluctantly, it would be that one couldn’t trust the Cylons.”
“Of course not,” the old man nodded calmly. “If anything, we’ve learned that much at Cimtar. Even those who’d been naïve enough to believe differently before.”
“Why did you allow Uri to act freely then?” the Sagittarian demanded angrily, the old burn marks on his deformed face glowing in dark red as always when he got agitated.
“I had my reasons,” the old man remained completely unfazed as ever. “First of all, Uri was already too far gone in his delusions of grandeur. Had I tried to stop him, he’d have tried to blackmail me into cooperation. I didn’t want to give him the idea that he was in position to blackmail me into anything - so I didn’t give him the chance in the first place. Besides, letting him suffer a spectacular defeat helped to put him to his right place.”
“That was an awfully big risk to take,” the Sagittarian said accusingly.
The old man shrugged. “Not really. I knew Adama and Tigh would come up with something. They always did. They’re no fools. The crisis also helped us to calculate the forces Adama could mobilize and the extent of his influence over the military. It was… informative. It helped us to plan our next moves better.”
“And it only cost us a few dozen deads, eaten by the Ovion larvae,” the Sagittarian commented bitterly.
The old man blinked at him with false benevolence but had a hard time to restrain himself. Military men always thought so two-dimensionally. Dealing with them could be really… tiring sometimes.
“What’s wrong, my dear Xaviar?” he asked mildly. “Are you getting doubts about our goals?”
“Oh, I have no problems with our goals at all,” the Sagittarian replied with the same forced friendliness. “I just don’t like your methods sometimes, that’s all.” He rose. “Is there anything else? I have a planet to rule back home.”
The other three stared at the closing door for a long time after his departure.
“He might become a problem, eventually,” Siress Aeriana said thoughtfully. Her jewelled eyes were cold like space itself.
“Perhaps in time,” the old man allowed. “He’s got used to the role of a hero… he’s grown comfortable with it and forgets about his obligations sometimes. But he won’t move against us. Not yet, not as long as the defence systems of New Sagittara aren’t installed. After that, though… yes, he might become a problem.”
“If he does, my dependents will be ready for him,” Aeriana replied coldly.
“Removing him won’t do us any good if we don’t have a replacement ready,” Siress Berenice reminded the other two. “A vacuum of power would be most… impractical for us. We need new dependents on Sagittara.”
“No,” the old man said. “We need something better than just dependents. We need someone from an old military clan who is capable of independent thinking and is allied to us because it’s in his best interest.”
“That could be a problem,” Siress Aeriana said wryly. “Sagittarian military education doesn’t exactly encourage thinking of any kind, unless it’s about strategy.”
“True,” the old man admitted, “although a good strategist could be of use. And there are exceptions, even on Sagittara.”
He looked at Siress Berenice whose task it always had been to keep tab on promising candidates of the younger generation. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“What about Troy?” she asked.
“Too young,” Aeriana riposted promptly.
“But he’s Sagittarian, the last twig of an old and well-respected clan,” Berenice pointed out. “And highly decorated. He just made Strike Captain when the battlestar Columbia was destroyed. He’s also very ambitious, with no hope for further promotion in the near future.”
“He is a possibility,” the old man agreed. “We’ll have to groom him carefully for his future position, though.”
Berenice shrugged. “You have the best possible bait in your hand to tempt such a young stud. It would serve them both.”
“Perhaps,” the old man said. “But she’s a dark equine, just like her father was. Right now, she’s ours, out of hurt pride and disappointment. But she’s used to get her own way in everything. She might turn against us just as easily.”
“That would be unfortunate… for her,” Aeriana commented icily. Berenice shook her head.
“Not for her alone, I’m afraid. We can’t afford too many… unfortunate accidents in our proximity. That could draw unwanted attention, which we must avoid at all costs.” She thought about it for a centon, then apparently came to a decision. “There’s another way. Slower but less risky. I can introduce them to each other socially.”
“That would work?” Aeriana doubted.
“Why not?” Berenice asked back. “They are both about the same age, both ambitious, both frustrated… once he swallows the bait, we can begin to pull him closer. And she would jump at the chance to nail someone of position, good breeding… and good looks.”
They both looked expectantly at the old man who nodded.
“It could work,” he judged. “And it would look like a natural thing, not to mention keeping her occupied. Very well. Let’s give it a try. Is there anything else?”
“Uri,” Aeriana prompted. “How long are we going to drag him with us? He’s played his role and not to well, I may add. He’s nothing but dead weight now.”
The old man shrugged. “He was re-elected, which secures us the cooperation of Leonis. He still has some use - for now. We’ll use him as a pawn as long as we need him. then we’ll throw him to the lupines.”
“The sooner the better,” Berenice murmured worriedly. “He’s too great a risk. He knows too much. He knows you - and he knows me. The real me. I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” the old man admitted. “I was against Adar sharing all our secrets with him from the beginning, but our late President wasn’t exactly the kind of man who’d listen to his aides. But we can’t get rid of Uri right now. Not before we learn for certain what happened to Gamesh.”
“Gamesh is dead,” Aeriana said impatiently. “I have witnesses who saw his shuttle explode just short the Fleet. There was nothing left but glowing pieces of metal. Those people who reported sightings of him must have been on bliss.”
“Perhaps,” the old man said. “But we must not give up the search. The man had been a politician since his youngest adult yahrens, and he used to work with Uri before he decided he was the Libran saviour. You should never underestimate a high-ranking member of the Libran oligarchy. They are tough and they are shrewd - and they have connections.”
“Very well,” Aeriana shrugged. “We’ll keep looking for him. Although I think it’s a waste of time and resources.”
“We do have the time,” the old man replied sharply, "and they’re my resources to waste.”
“Very true,” Aeriana agreed primly. “Well, if that was all, I’m due to visit the Orion today. Someone has to keep our self-proclaimed matriarch updated.”
The old man nodded, and the Arian Councillor took her leave. Berenice stayed for a moment longer.
“The young ones are getting impertinent, Antiochus,” she said calling him on his true name nobody else knew any longer; the two of them had been allies and sometimes lovers for almost eighty yahrens by now. “They don’t want to be led and guided anymore. They want to go their own way.”
“They underestimate their elders,” the old man said. “They will learn what a big mistake that could be. That they can be replaced, like everyone else. Not yet… but as soon as the next generation is ready to take their place.”
“What will that happen?” Berenice asked doubtfully. “We’re old, Antiochus. Soon, we won’t have the strength to keep all ties in our hands, and our allies are wavering.”
“They are getting nervous that they won’t have the chance to come to true power before the young lionets grow strong enough to show their claws,” the old man said with a chilling smile. “Perhaps they are right. We still have a few yahrens left to raise our successors - young and strong and determined ones. We shall leave our stamp on the New Colonies, worry not. Our work will survive us.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thousands of metrics away, aboard the Galactica, Dr. Salik was still working in his lab in the Life Center. He’d sent Kreon back to his quarters centares ago. Even the unwearying Dr. Sekhet had left to perform his daily meditations, without which no Vulcan could lead an ordered life in the long run. But Salik couldn’t stop working. He had the strong feeling that he was close to his goal, very close.
They’d gone through the entire medical database. They’d filtered out everyone with a purely monotribal parentage. They’d filtered out the hybrids without a Leonid parent and ordered the remaining files in twelve piles, according to the tribe of the other parent. Salik was now checking out every single one of those piles.
He’d started with Caprican hybrids, based on the simple fact that Starbuck was one of those himself- When he hadn’t found anything, he began to go through every pile systematically, fully expecting to spend the night in the lab. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He’d been through seven piles already, and his eyes started to tear up from sheer exhaustion when he finally found the right file. When he saw the name, he frowned and asked the computer for the patient’s family tree. It was a long and complicated one. He studied the last three generations and checked them for possible Leonid connections.
There was only one - the same patient whose file he’d sought for and finally found. But it still didn’t answer his question, so he checked the Leonid side of the family, which produced an equally long and complicated family tree. He asked the computer to compare the two family trees for possible intersections - and the seemingly random details suddenly slid into place with an almost audible click. Like a kaleidoscope after a curious child had shaken it thoroughly.
Shaken was the right expression for Salik’s own state of mind, too. He fell onto a stool heavily and stared into the emptiness of his lab in deep shock.
“Sagan,” he murmured to the universe in general, “what in Hades have we gotten ourselves into?”
But the universe, as usual, failed to give him an answer.
Chapter 09 - Curiosity Killed the Cat