With the Weapons of a Woman 09 - Fathers & Sons
Title: With the Weapons of a Woman
Author: Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Index page.
Author’s note: Remember, I go with the original concept, so Boxey isn't actually Serina's son. The confrontation between Apollo and Adama is based on a deleted scene from the pilot.
CHAPTER 09 - FATHERS AND SONS
Commander Adama must have formed a similar opinion concerning Apollo’s most recent stunt, because he all but exploded into his son’s face, as soon as the last Quorum member left the Council chamber.
“And just what were you thinking, volunteering for a mission like that?” he demanded. “Sire Uri must be laughing up his sleeve.”
“Is that what is worrying you about the mission?” Apollo retorted “That you might have been made to look foolish by Uri?” His father stared at him in silent fury, and he hurriedly back-pedalled. “I’m sorry. I know better than that, but there was no other choice. You didn’t seem to have another plan. It was his way or mine.”
“Now, you see, he’s got us doing it,” Adama said, his fury not so silent any more. “Turning one against the other. If Uri weren’t such a prima donna, I’d say let him lead. But we must not allow ourselves to be fractioned off. There are too few of us left. A single voice is imperative.”
“But not his!” Apollo protested. “He’s only interested in himself! I don’t understand how he got elected to the Quorum of Twelve - and you voted for him!”
Adama turned away from him, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“You should have known him, back in the Renaissance days of Caprica,” he murmured. “He was one of the best. A builder, an architect of dreams… Now he just sits and decays himself with drink and remembrance. No wonder our world fell apart.”
Serina wanted to applaud him. Yes, that was the Sire Uri she still remembered: a generous patron of ambitious young men and women, a leader and visionary. Not the sad failure that was now living aboard the Rising Star, letting people starve, in fear of not having enough for himself anymore.
Apollo, however, had no such memories, and he didn’t seem to be in a particularly understanding mood. In truth, he sounded downright judgemental.
“Looking back is contagious,” he declared angrily. “Decay and corruption go hand in hand with defeatism and lack of action. Uri moved in because you failed to act; to have alternatives to his plans.”
Adama stiffened as if his son had unexpectedly hit him in the face. Which Apollo had done, in a sense.
“I believe it is sometimes… prudent to steer away from the flames, once you’ve been badly burned,” he finally said, sounding terribly old and almost broken.
But Apollo wasn’t in the mood to listen, either. “And I’d say you’d better look around more carefully,” he retuned. “You’re nursing wounds while we’re still in the fire.”
And with that, he stormed off; presumably to find those volunteers for the suicidal mission he’d just suggested the Quorum himself.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Serina remained alone with the Commander in the Council chamber - Omega had executed a strategic retreat right at the beginning of the argument between father and son - and was now seeking desperately for the right words to comfort the old man. Despite her extensive training as a media personality, she failed. Compassion was not her strongest feature, and she knew that. Boxey had been the exception, not the rule - he’d filled the empty space left behind by little Madoc’s death, and that was the reason why she’d responded to him so strongly.
“Commander… I’m sorry,” she finally offered, with as much feeling as she could manage.
Those wise old eyes turned to her with understanding.
“Oh, I do not blame him,” Adama said heavily. “He was not entirely wrong, you know. I did not have an alternate plan to counteract Uri’s plotting. I hoped that the Council would listen to reason.”
“Some of them did,” Serina reminded him, and he nodded.
“Some… but not all of them. Not even enough of them. And if we don’t stand as a united front behind the decisions made by the Council, our people would cease to follow us.”
“Then Captain Apollo’s plan worked to serve your purpose,” Serina pointed out. “We are going to Carillon, are we not? All of us.”
Adama did not answer at once, his strategic mind preoccupied with the dangerous task before them already.
“I hope so,” he finally said. “I just hope I won’t be losing my only remaining son, too, in order to get us there.”
He sighed and gave her a surprisingly warm, almost fatherly smile. “I am so glad that he found you,” he added. “He’s been so unhappy over the deaths of Zack and his mother; he needed a friend like you.”
“I’m not so certain I can call myself his friend just yet,” Serina answered honestly. “I like him just fine, and he’s been very generous to both me and Boxey, but whether that would make us friends…”
“Given enough time, it will,” Adama said. “Friends… and more, perhaps. Or that is my hope, at least.”
Serina was baffled. Was he courting her on his son’s behalf?
“You wouldn’t object?” she asked in surprise. “I’m sure you’ve had something else in mind for your heir. Someone more… socially suitable.”
The old man shrugged tiredly.
“Does birth truly matters now, after the world as we’d used to know it has ended in the blink of an eye, in blood and fire?” he asked. “Besides, he’d shown so little interest in the ladies before that I’d have accepted just about any love interest, as long as she was halfway suitable,” he shrugged again. “Perhaps that, too, has been my fault. He’s my heir; I always had the highest expectations towards him… and he grew to meet them each time. Perhaps my expectations were too high. Perhaps I should have allowed him to actually live a little from time to time.”
“You only wanted the best for him.” Serina tried to be supportive, but it was hard. She knew better than anyone how… destructive the expectations of Caprican nobility could be towards their own children. Especially towards firstborn sons.
“It wouldn’t be the first time I found out that my best hadn’t been good enough,” Adama replied dryly; then he laid a hand upon her arm. “But you… you are good for him. Boxey is good for him. He’s so guilt-ridden about Zac’s death he’d throw his life away just to free himself from that guilt. Do you believe you could give him a reason to wish to stay alive?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Serina admitted. “He’s not an easy man to read.”
Adama smiled down at her.
“I know. Sometimes I, too, have a hard time to read him. But trust me in this: he and you and Boxey could have a good life together. The question is: could you imagine a life, Sealed to a warrior who’d spend considerably more time in the cockpit of his Viper than in your bed?”
Serina could barely trust her ears. The old Commander had all but proposed in his heir’s stead - who still didn’t have as much as a hunch about his good fortune, all planned out by his father.
“It depends on the warrior,” she replied with a coy smile.
But the Commander remained deadly serious.
“Would you give it some thought?” he asked. “For an old man’s sake, who’s worried about the future of his only son - assuming that there will be a future to begin with?”
Serina pretended to hesitate, even though she could barely believe her own luck. The old man was offering her everything she could have dreamed of on a silver tablet.
“I’ll… think about it,” she said after what she thought would be a proper pause.
She tried not to feel guilty when she saw the old man’s eyes lit up with hope.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To her surprise, she found Apollo waiting for her in the corridor that led to her modest little quarters.
“Apollo!” she smiled at him and saw him relax, just a little bit. “Is there something I can do for you? You look so sad. What bothers you - beyond the obvious, I mean.”
Apollo sighed. “Father’s decision hit me quite hard, to be honest. I can understand his motivation, but I’m afraid it will lead to new problems. None of the temporary Quorum have ever made any experience with leading people, save for Sire Uri, and he isn’t necessarily the person I’d trust with the fate of the Fleet.”
“I’m sorry,” Serina said. “I wish I could cheer you up somehow; but the sad truth is, Sire Uri is no longer the man I used to know when I was a young girl. The Destruction… it seems to have twisted him somehow.”
“I think he was pretty twisted before the destruction already,” Apollo said darkly. “The fear just brought his worst side to the surface. But let us not discuss politics now. I’ve something that might cheer you up… or, at least Boxey, which is the same in the long run, isn’t it?”
“Tonight?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you get some rest? The mission you’re going to…”
He waved off her concern. “I’ll sleep better after we solved Boxey’s problem.”
She raised an elegant eyebrow at that. “That’s a tall order, Captain, my Captain.”
He shrugged. “I’m a big boy. How’s he doing anyway?”
“He’s still having his moods from time to time,” she admitted. “Come in and see for yourself. Child Care has just had him brought home.”
They found Boxey lying on the lower level of the double bunk (which was supposed to be Serina’s bed). He looked strangely listless again, as if the excitement of the recent days had burned out already. At least he was willing to look at Apollo.
“Get up, young warrior, and come with me,” Apollo ordered in a crisp military manner. “You and me, e have a mission tonight.”
Boxey looked over to Serina. “Do I hafta, Mommy?”
“Yes, you do,” Apollo replied sternly. “You’re a Colonial warrior, albeit a really small one; and orders are orders. Come!”
The boy reluctantly took his proffered hand and got up.
They had some trouble keeping up with him as he strode through the corridors that all seemed to be alike, but in his current mood Serina didn’t want to ask him to slow down. She practically dragged Boxey after her, tracing a circuitous route to an area of the ship that she’d never seen before; nether could she remember having seen it on they blueprints.
They stopped at a door marked Droid Maintenance Laboratory, and Apollo said. “There it is.”
Smiling at the confusion on Serina’s face, he ushered her and Boxey into the lab. Immediately in front of them was a row of droids, propped up against a wall, all of them obviously switched off. Some of them had been opened up and various wires dangled from the regions of their barrel-shaped midsection and numerous limbs.
“What are these?” Serina asked.
“Droids,” Apollo said with a shrug. “Mechanical constructs designed to simulate human or animal…”
“I know what droids are,” she interrupted. “I thought they were banned, though.”
“On Caprica, they were,” Apollo admitted. “Capricans didn’t believe in using mechanical substitutes for human effort. A noble philosophy, but…”
“I don’t know about philosophy,” Serina said, “but I do know, in the few experiences I’ve had with droids on Scorpia, I’m uncomfortable perceiving human traits in something that turns out not to be human at all.”
“I think you’re wrong, but under the circumstances it’s not a worthwhile discussion to pursue. Let me just say that droids have become a necessity for spacecraft. They can tuck themselves into niches that bulkier humans can’t reach and they can perform minor repair jobs on the surface of the ship or in atmospheres we can’t breathe,”
A silver-haired, white-clad man with sharp, patrician features came through the door in that very micron. His face lit up when he recognized Apollo.
“Ah, Captain Apollo!” he exclaimed with a certain enthusiasm. “Right on time. We’ve been expecting you. Is this the young officer who’s been put in charge of the new project?”
Boxey, surprised at the attention from this stranger, clutched Serina’s hand tightly and tried to hide behind her skirt. Apollo grinned at the man.
“Well, Doctor Wilker, I haven’t had time to fully discuss the project with him. It’s our hope he’ll accept, though.”
Boxey pulled on Serina’s skirt, clearly frightened. “Mommy, I wanna go back!” he whispered.
Apollo looked down at him with mock-seriousness, although his eyes were laughing.
“Boxey, this is a military order,” he said. “We have at least to hear the doctor out. Tell us more about the project, doctor.”
Dr. Wilker grinned at Boxey in the unmistakable manner of a man who finally got the chance to broach his favourite topic. Even Serina had to admit that his enthusiasm was somewhat… contagious. He must really have loved his job.
“Well, you see, we’ll soon be landing on various alien planets, and we cannot know what we’ll find there. It’s important that we be safe. Ordinarily, we’d have trained daggits to stand watch at night, when our people are asleep in their encampments, but we don’t have any daggits. So, we’ve had to see what we could come up with. We’ll call the first one Muffit Two.”
Boxey looked sideways at Apollo. “What’d he say?”
Apollo shrugged. “I don’t really get it all,” he turned to the scientist. “Doctor Wilker, maybe you’d better show us?”
Doctor Wilker ducked, his expression apologetic. He’d apparently forgotten that he’d been talking to a six-yahren old. “Right, right, I’m sorry. Leon, come in!”
The call to his assistant was just a bit overdone, like in one of those children’s programmes on old vids. Leon, a young, dark-skinned man with a head shaved and smooth as a marble, came in at once, shepherding before him the strangest creature Serina had ever seen.
It was apparently meant to represent a daggit, but both in size and looks was more similar to a baby ursus - with round, bulbous eyes of the size of saucers, small, curved ears that moved on their own (the soft whine of servos that moved them barely audible) and four identical legs that looked like metal columns covered with artificial fur. It was also bigger on all fours than any daggit that had ever lived on any of the Twelve Worlds - its head was almost at the same level as Boxey’s.
Leon pushed the daggit droid forward, and it immediately began to bark in a high-pitched, compellingly friendly tone. Actually, its visage was such that it would make the smallest child laugh: friendly, even though a little stupid. Moving to Boxey, it sat on its backside and poked the boy with its front paws, so that Boxey nearly fall over. The wagging of its tail was natural and convincing, unless you looked up close and could see that the tail protruded through a square hole at the back of the droid.
“Naturally,” Dr. Wilker said, “the first one will have to be looked after very carefully.
Boxey backed a couple of steps away from the eager daggit droid.
“That’s not Muffit,” he said accusingly. “It’s not even a real daggit!”
“No,” Dr. Wilker admitted softly. “But it can learn to be like a real one. It’s very smart. If you’d help us, he’ll be even smarter.”
Despite his mild disappointment about the daggit’s mechanical nature, Boxey couldn’t take his eyes off it. With the first hint of a smile in several days, he took another couple of steps backward from the daggit, who looked up quizzically and turned its ears. The boy started to cross the room, and the droid ran after him in a somewhat awkward manner that was seemed as clumsy as it was endearing.
“We used the image of Boxey you gave us to train the droid to respond him,” Wilker whispered to Apollo and Serina.
Boxey stopped walking and turned to look down at the droid. Slowly he opened his arms. The droid moved forward, sat up on its hind legs and put its paws on the boy’s chest. The trying-out period was over. Boxey hugged the daggit and smiled back at the three watching adults.
Apollo smiled at Wilker and said. “That’s one I owe you, Doc.”
“Any time,” Wilker said, his eyes a bit misty, making Serina wonder whether he’d lost any children or younger siblings in the Destruction. After all, it wasn’t exactly natural that the head scientist of the entire Fleet - and Wilker’s name had been a well-known one even before, he’d often appeared on Transmission to explain new scientific discoveries to the interested audience - would waste his time making mechanical pets for lost little boys.
As they followed Boxey and his new pet into the corridor, Serina whispered to Apollo. “That’s one I owe you, Apollo.”
Apollo smiled at her, looking happier than she’d seen ever since they’d first met on the surface of bombed-out Caprica. “Any time.”
“You look quite smug, you know that?” she teased.
He shrugged, still smiling, but softer now, in a way that was almost intimate. “If you say so.”
“But I’ll kiss you anyway.”
And she did, not caring that they were in a public corridor and anyone could have turned around a corner and caught them in the act.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Captain Apollo did not make it back to his own quarters to get proper rest on that afternoon. They brought Boxey back to the Child Care Centre for past-midday education - where he became the envy of all children because of his mechanical daggit - and then they returned to Serina’s modest room, where they made desperate love for a centare or two.
At first Serina was a bit surprised that a man with Apollo’ stiff upbringing could unbend enough to have casual sex with anyone of his own social circle - well, slightly beneath his own, but still - since as a devout Kobolian, the Commander probably wouldn’t have sanctioned such liberties. If one was the heir of a Great House of Caprica, one did not prey on those below one’s own rank yet still from noble blood. That was something Not Done… even though some people obviously indulged themselves in such practices, as she knew from first-hand experience. Still, it was considered as unworthy of a true patrician.
Professionals were a different matter, of course, yet Serina had the impression that Apollo couldn’t have employed their services all too often. He turned out endearingly simple in his lovemaking… she’d even risk to say that he was fairly inexperienced. Not entirely so, no… he was a good kisser, and seemed to know the movements he was supposed to go through, at the very least. But he was also easily embarrassed for a grown man, and some of her actions clearly amazed him - almost shocked.
Which had both its advantages and its disadvantages. On the plus side, she could easily make him dependant on her with pleasure. She’d been trained by an Aquarian, after all, and Patroclus had been highly skilled and very imaginative, even as Aquarians go. On the other side, she’d have her work cut out for her to train Apollo, so that their married life wouldn’t become deathly dull, very quickly. Add the responsibility of an important, yet decidedly not glorious job and the rising of a child not even her own, she could have easily gotten more than she’d bargained for.
In the end, however, the advantages clearly outweighed the disadvantages - especially aw he seemed to have developed almost paternal feelings for Boxey already. And so when she did let him out a couple of centares later - after a quick check that no-one would see him leave her quarters - she quietly congratulated herself for landing on her feet again, more so than ever before.
Granted, he wasn’t the kind of man she’d have picked under normal circumstances. But he was handsome, of the highest social status one could find in the entire Fleet, he seemed besotted with her - and he was apparently very fond of Boxey. He’d do just nicely… if she managed to get her hooks in him properly.
The fact that his father so obviously approved would serve to her advantage as well. Despite their recent, heated arguments, Apollo clearly respected his father enormously and would go a long way to please him… and giving the old man an heir would be among the first things Adama would want from him. Things were looking reasonably good - unless he managed to get himself killed by a Cylon mine tomorrow.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the next morning, Serina was called to the Viper deck in her function as the Fleet’s official chronist, to witness the three pilots selected for the dangerous mission being seen off by the Commander. Apollo had chosen Lieutenants Starbuck and Boomer indeed, just as Lieutenant Omega had predicted, and while Boomer simply seemed nervous and unhappy, Starbuck moved around with great care, as if he were in pain.
“What happened to him?” Serina asked Deitra, who, like many other pilots, had come to see the heroes of the day off.
The shuttle pilot from the Atlantia grinned. “Athena happened. It seems Starbuck has picked up a socialator from one of the Gemini freighters and brought her over to the Galactica for medical treatment…”
Serina nodded. “I know. I saw them at Life Station while waiting for my check-out.”
“Really?” Deitra’s kava brown eyes lit up with interest. “What is she like?”
Serina considered the question for a moment. “Blond. Pretty. Wearing a clinging outfit that would become transparent in the right light. Doubtlessly shrewd enough to use any situation to her advantage. What socialators are like. So, what happened?”
Deitra’s grin grew from ear to ear. “Apparently, Athena caught them on one of the monitors as they were rolling around in a launching tube, half-naked.”
“In a launching tube?” Serina whistled softly. “Imaginative.”
“Perhaps, but not very practical,” Deitra said. “Especially as the launching tubes are usually steam purged by remote control.”
Serina stared at the Libran woman in shock. “She didn’t…!”
“Oh yes, she did,” Deitra replied in deep satisfaction. “It was a long way coming for Starbuck, I’d say. He’s grown too comfortable with all his ex-girlfriends forgiving him, no matter what.”
“But how will he be able to fly in that condition?” Serina asked in concern. Not that she’d cared for Starbuck, but if the blond pilot wasn’t in top form, that could have endangered Apollo, too. “His entire back must be raw!”
She almost felt sorry for the man. Almost.
“Oh, they’ve fixed him up at Life Station well enough,” Deitra waved off her concern breezily. “Sure, he’s a little tender, and wearing a pressure suit must be hell right now; but I hope he’s learned his lesson: no double-teaming on the Commander’s daughter.”
“Remind me never to make her mad at me,” Serina said, still shocked a little by the ruthless action of Athena. But again, she was a warrior. Trained to fight for what she considered dear… and hers.
Deitra nodded in complete agreement, and then they watched the Commander see off the three pilots with a few heartfelt words.
“We don’t have time for elaborate searches,” he then told them. “You’ll have to navigate by scanner and sweep everything out of your path with turbo lasers. Any questions?”
“One, sir,” Starbuck, clearly as irrepressible as said about him, raised his hand. “My bio-pulse line says this is a bad time for me to be cooped up in a cockpit. Would this be an appropriate time for me to take my sick leave?”
Adama smiled. The other two pilots grinned nervously.
“It would,” the Commander said, “but request denied. You three control our fate. The rest of us will sit in anticipation of your skill.”
“Or the lack thereof,” Starbuck joked, and Adama rolled his eyes.
“Well,” Apollo said, ”there’s no easy way to do this - so let us get out there and do it.”
The other two nodded in agreement and went to their Vipers for a final check with the mechanics. The rest cleared the bay and went back to their respective stations to follow the progress on the viewscreens.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Serina wasn’t particularly surprised when the Commander invited her to Core Command, where she’d be able to see everything first-hand. It was her job to document the progress, after all. As she followed Adama and his entourage out of the Viper bay, however, she found herself walking next to Athena… who didn’t seem happy with the turn things had just taken.
“I can’t believe he’s doing this!” she ranted in a low voice; too low for the ears of anyone but Serina to hear. “Why couldn’t he have listened to the others, gone to Borallus, instead of this filthy and dangerous place?”
“He had his reasons,” Serina replied, just as quietly. “Sound reasons, as far as I can tell. Besides, do you think the Nomes would be pleased if a fleet of hungry people showed up on their doorstep? If there are any Nomes left, that is?”
Athena couldn’t really dismiss that simple truth, but she wasn’t about to give up, either. Not yet.
“He’s taking such an awful chance with their lives!” she muttered bitterly.
Serina nodded. “Yes, he does. And they know that. They volunteered… at least Apollo did. The others could have backed off without blame, I assume.”
“Yeah, because Starbuck would ever back out of a dangerous mission!” Athena snorted.
Serina thought to understand her. After all, Athena was still a young girl who’d already lost half of her family. It was understandable that she’d cling to the loved ones that she still had.
“Is it your brother you’re worrying about - or rather Lieutenant Starbuck?” she asked.
Athena’s shoulders sagged suddenly as all the rage seemed to go out of her in a rush.
“It’s not just Starbuck. I’m worried about Apollo, too - you ought to know that by now. And Boomer… he’s such a good, solid man, such a good friend. It’s just that - oh, I don’t even know what it really is!”
Was I ever this young? Serina wondered, but out loud she said, choosing her words carefully.
“Well, if you love Lieutenant Starbuck, you’re naturally…”
“I hate that little tramp!” Athena burst out. It was a remarkably… controlled outburst, Serina found, but the sentiment behind it seemed genuine.
“You’ll have to fight for you man, then,” she replied. “I don’t think that would be so hard for you… what I’ve heard, you are a fighter. And you can even fight dirty, which is a good thing. With such an adversary, you’ll have to fight dirty.”
The pale cheeks of Adama’s daughter coloured a little. “Where have you heard that?”
“The only thing that travels faster than light in this universe is gossip,” Serina replied, smiling. “Lieutenant Deitra was so impressed with your action that she felt the need to share.”
“I’m not proud of what I’ve done, myself,” Athena admitted glumly. “I used to think I could cure myself of Starbuck, get a pill from Life Station or something and forget about him. But when I saw them, writhing around in a launching tube, half-naked… my rage just went through with me.”
“Why would you want to forget him?” Serina asked. “Especially now, when everything we still have is each other, shouldn’t we cling to the few loved ones we still have?”
“I don’t know,” Athena sighed. “I’m very disturbed, and I don’t know what to think. It’s this war, and the Destruction; our home planets gone, and this desperate voyage to a place where we don’t know what we’ll find…”
“You don’t trust the judgement of your father?” Serina asked carefully. Athena shrugged.
“Oh, I do… as a rule. He has saved us all, hasn’t he? But we’ve been on this voyage for some time now, and everything is in a different perspective. Hopeless. That’s why I’m so frightened about this… this mission. Everything has been hopeless since… since Cimtar. Assuming they survive this… assuming any of us survive, what next? Will we find this Earth Father claims is not a myth?”
“Perhaps not,” Serina allowed. She could hear some of her own doubts mirrored in Athena’s words all too clearly.
“I was thinking that,” Athena nodded grimly. “We could grow old waiting. I mean, we may never have the chance… the chance to… to…”
“To form permanent relationships, have children and a home?” Serina finished for her. Lords, but she’s so young!
Athena nodded. “Yes. A Battlestar is not the place to raise children - nor are most of the other ships, for that matter. But if we cannot raise the next generation to take over our heritage, why go such lengths to survive in the first place? Just to live out the rest of our lives in our flying coffins?”
Her voice was bitter and resigned, a chilling contrast to her youth and beauty.
“It’s too soon for you to be concerned about old age,” Serina answered lightly. “Let’s deal with it one step a time. Let’s hope we manage to find food and fuel on Carillon - that would enable us to continue our journey… and give us hope to find, if not the mythical Earth, then a place where we can settle and recover.
Athena gave her a doubtful look. “You really believe that?”
Serina shrugged. “I have to; or else I could simply walk out of the nearest airlock. And whatever happened, I’m not ready to die just yet.”
“No-one is at the dawn of new love,” Athena smiled, and Serina realized that young though she might be, there wasn’t much happening aboard the Galactica that she wouldn’t find out sooner or later.
It was her home, after all. And being a bridge officer apparently had its perks.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They reached the bridge at that point, and the discussion stopped. Athena hurried over to the sensors to take her station. Serina was guided to a semi-separated little niche near the Commander’s office, where she could make her records undisturbed.
The Commander himself, with Colonel Tigh on his side, stood on the rotating command deck. Below, Flight Corporal Rigel was going through the pre-flight check with the three pilots. She, too, seemed awfully young with her long braids doubled back on both sides of her head, in the fashion of her now-gone home planet. There could be no doubt that she originated from Virgon.
“Vipers Blue One through Three, pre-flight check is finished,” she said in her gentle, child-like voice. “All systems show up green. Launch when ready.”
“I am ready,” came the cool sound of Apollo's voice. “What about you, Starbuck?”
“I’m not ready,” Starbuck said with emphasis, “but let’s get it over with anyway.”
“Blue Three ready,” Boomer’s sturdy voice said, his slight Leonid accent thicker than usual, perhaps due to the pressure.
There was a short, tense pause, then the launch lights came on, and the three ships catapulted into space. Establishing a neat triangular formation, they headed for the minefield.
“I’m going in for preliminary scouting,” Apollo said.
“Good luck,” Boomer and Starbuck answered simultaneously.
“Don’t jinx me with good wishes,” Apollo said, laughter in his voice. “It could turn against me.”
“Yeah, sure,” Starbuck replied in the same manner. “Just make a sweep by the nearest thing; we’ll be right behind you.”
Watching the three asterisks symbolizing the three Vipers move towards the minefield, Serina found herself prying fervently to all and any Lords of Kobol that might listen to watch over the three pilots and help them through this dangerous task in one piece.
At least she hoped they would listen. After the Destruction, nobody could be all that sure about that any longer. Not even the devout Kobolians who took the Book of the Word quite literally.
Chapter 10 - Carillon
Author: Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Index page.
Author’s note: Remember, I go with the original concept, so Boxey isn't actually Serina's son. The confrontation between Apollo and Adama is based on a deleted scene from the pilot.
CHAPTER 09 - FATHERS AND SONS
Commander Adama must have formed a similar opinion concerning Apollo’s most recent stunt, because he all but exploded into his son’s face, as soon as the last Quorum member left the Council chamber.
“And just what were you thinking, volunteering for a mission like that?” he demanded. “Sire Uri must be laughing up his sleeve.”
“Is that what is worrying you about the mission?” Apollo retorted “That you might have been made to look foolish by Uri?” His father stared at him in silent fury, and he hurriedly back-pedalled. “I’m sorry. I know better than that, but there was no other choice. You didn’t seem to have another plan. It was his way or mine.”
“Now, you see, he’s got us doing it,” Adama said, his fury not so silent any more. “Turning one against the other. If Uri weren’t such a prima donna, I’d say let him lead. But we must not allow ourselves to be fractioned off. There are too few of us left. A single voice is imperative.”
“But not his!” Apollo protested. “He’s only interested in himself! I don’t understand how he got elected to the Quorum of Twelve - and you voted for him!”
Adama turned away from him, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“You should have known him, back in the Renaissance days of Caprica,” he murmured. “He was one of the best. A builder, an architect of dreams… Now he just sits and decays himself with drink and remembrance. No wonder our world fell apart.”
Serina wanted to applaud him. Yes, that was the Sire Uri she still remembered: a generous patron of ambitious young men and women, a leader and visionary. Not the sad failure that was now living aboard the Rising Star, letting people starve, in fear of not having enough for himself anymore.
Apollo, however, had no such memories, and he didn’t seem to be in a particularly understanding mood. In truth, he sounded downright judgemental.
“Looking back is contagious,” he declared angrily. “Decay and corruption go hand in hand with defeatism and lack of action. Uri moved in because you failed to act; to have alternatives to his plans.”
Adama stiffened as if his son had unexpectedly hit him in the face. Which Apollo had done, in a sense.
“I believe it is sometimes… prudent to steer away from the flames, once you’ve been badly burned,” he finally said, sounding terribly old and almost broken.
But Apollo wasn’t in the mood to listen, either. “And I’d say you’d better look around more carefully,” he retuned. “You’re nursing wounds while we’re still in the fire.”
And with that, he stormed off; presumably to find those volunteers for the suicidal mission he’d just suggested the Quorum himself.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Serina remained alone with the Commander in the Council chamber - Omega had executed a strategic retreat right at the beginning of the argument between father and son - and was now seeking desperately for the right words to comfort the old man. Despite her extensive training as a media personality, she failed. Compassion was not her strongest feature, and she knew that. Boxey had been the exception, not the rule - he’d filled the empty space left behind by little Madoc’s death, and that was the reason why she’d responded to him so strongly.
“Commander… I’m sorry,” she finally offered, with as much feeling as she could manage.
Those wise old eyes turned to her with understanding.
“Oh, I do not blame him,” Adama said heavily. “He was not entirely wrong, you know. I did not have an alternate plan to counteract Uri’s plotting. I hoped that the Council would listen to reason.”
“Some of them did,” Serina reminded him, and he nodded.
“Some… but not all of them. Not even enough of them. And if we don’t stand as a united front behind the decisions made by the Council, our people would cease to follow us.”
“Then Captain Apollo’s plan worked to serve your purpose,” Serina pointed out. “We are going to Carillon, are we not? All of us.”
Adama did not answer at once, his strategic mind preoccupied with the dangerous task before them already.
“I hope so,” he finally said. “I just hope I won’t be losing my only remaining son, too, in order to get us there.”
He sighed and gave her a surprisingly warm, almost fatherly smile. “I am so glad that he found you,” he added. “He’s been so unhappy over the deaths of Zack and his mother; he needed a friend like you.”
“I’m not so certain I can call myself his friend just yet,” Serina answered honestly. “I like him just fine, and he’s been very generous to both me and Boxey, but whether that would make us friends…”
“Given enough time, it will,” Adama said. “Friends… and more, perhaps. Or that is my hope, at least.”
Serina was baffled. Was he courting her on his son’s behalf?
“You wouldn’t object?” she asked in surprise. “I’m sure you’ve had something else in mind for your heir. Someone more… socially suitable.”
The old man shrugged tiredly.
“Does birth truly matters now, after the world as we’d used to know it has ended in the blink of an eye, in blood and fire?” he asked. “Besides, he’d shown so little interest in the ladies before that I’d have accepted just about any love interest, as long as she was halfway suitable,” he shrugged again. “Perhaps that, too, has been my fault. He’s my heir; I always had the highest expectations towards him… and he grew to meet them each time. Perhaps my expectations were too high. Perhaps I should have allowed him to actually live a little from time to time.”
“You only wanted the best for him.” Serina tried to be supportive, but it was hard. She knew better than anyone how… destructive the expectations of Caprican nobility could be towards their own children. Especially towards firstborn sons.
“It wouldn’t be the first time I found out that my best hadn’t been good enough,” Adama replied dryly; then he laid a hand upon her arm. “But you… you are good for him. Boxey is good for him. He’s so guilt-ridden about Zac’s death he’d throw his life away just to free himself from that guilt. Do you believe you could give him a reason to wish to stay alive?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Serina admitted. “He’s not an easy man to read.”
Adama smiled down at her.
“I know. Sometimes I, too, have a hard time to read him. But trust me in this: he and you and Boxey could have a good life together. The question is: could you imagine a life, Sealed to a warrior who’d spend considerably more time in the cockpit of his Viper than in your bed?”
Serina could barely trust her ears. The old Commander had all but proposed in his heir’s stead - who still didn’t have as much as a hunch about his good fortune, all planned out by his father.
“It depends on the warrior,” she replied with a coy smile.
But the Commander remained deadly serious.
“Would you give it some thought?” he asked. “For an old man’s sake, who’s worried about the future of his only son - assuming that there will be a future to begin with?”
Serina pretended to hesitate, even though she could barely believe her own luck. The old man was offering her everything she could have dreamed of on a silver tablet.
“I’ll… think about it,” she said after what she thought would be a proper pause.
She tried not to feel guilty when she saw the old man’s eyes lit up with hope.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To her surprise, she found Apollo waiting for her in the corridor that led to her modest little quarters.
“Apollo!” she smiled at him and saw him relax, just a little bit. “Is there something I can do for you? You look so sad. What bothers you - beyond the obvious, I mean.”
Apollo sighed. “Father’s decision hit me quite hard, to be honest. I can understand his motivation, but I’m afraid it will lead to new problems. None of the temporary Quorum have ever made any experience with leading people, save for Sire Uri, and he isn’t necessarily the person I’d trust with the fate of the Fleet.”
“I’m sorry,” Serina said. “I wish I could cheer you up somehow; but the sad truth is, Sire Uri is no longer the man I used to know when I was a young girl. The Destruction… it seems to have twisted him somehow.”
“I think he was pretty twisted before the destruction already,” Apollo said darkly. “The fear just brought his worst side to the surface. But let us not discuss politics now. I’ve something that might cheer you up… or, at least Boxey, which is the same in the long run, isn’t it?”
“Tonight?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you get some rest? The mission you’re going to…”
He waved off her concern. “I’ll sleep better after we solved Boxey’s problem.”
She raised an elegant eyebrow at that. “That’s a tall order, Captain, my Captain.”
He shrugged. “I’m a big boy. How’s he doing anyway?”
“He’s still having his moods from time to time,” she admitted. “Come in and see for yourself. Child Care has just had him brought home.”
They found Boxey lying on the lower level of the double bunk (which was supposed to be Serina’s bed). He looked strangely listless again, as if the excitement of the recent days had burned out already. At least he was willing to look at Apollo.
“Get up, young warrior, and come with me,” Apollo ordered in a crisp military manner. “You and me, e have a mission tonight.”
Boxey looked over to Serina. “Do I hafta, Mommy?”
“Yes, you do,” Apollo replied sternly. “You’re a Colonial warrior, albeit a really small one; and orders are orders. Come!”
The boy reluctantly took his proffered hand and got up.
They had some trouble keeping up with him as he strode through the corridors that all seemed to be alike, but in his current mood Serina didn’t want to ask him to slow down. She practically dragged Boxey after her, tracing a circuitous route to an area of the ship that she’d never seen before; nether could she remember having seen it on they blueprints.
They stopped at a door marked Droid Maintenance Laboratory, and Apollo said. “There it is.”
Smiling at the confusion on Serina’s face, he ushered her and Boxey into the lab. Immediately in front of them was a row of droids, propped up against a wall, all of them obviously switched off. Some of them had been opened up and various wires dangled from the regions of their barrel-shaped midsection and numerous limbs.
“What are these?” Serina asked.
“Droids,” Apollo said with a shrug. “Mechanical constructs designed to simulate human or animal…”
“I know what droids are,” she interrupted. “I thought they were banned, though.”
“On Caprica, they were,” Apollo admitted. “Capricans didn’t believe in using mechanical substitutes for human effort. A noble philosophy, but…”
“I don’t know about philosophy,” Serina said, “but I do know, in the few experiences I’ve had with droids on Scorpia, I’m uncomfortable perceiving human traits in something that turns out not to be human at all.”
“I think you’re wrong, but under the circumstances it’s not a worthwhile discussion to pursue. Let me just say that droids have become a necessity for spacecraft. They can tuck themselves into niches that bulkier humans can’t reach and they can perform minor repair jobs on the surface of the ship or in atmospheres we can’t breathe,”
A silver-haired, white-clad man with sharp, patrician features came through the door in that very micron. His face lit up when he recognized Apollo.
“Ah, Captain Apollo!” he exclaimed with a certain enthusiasm. “Right on time. We’ve been expecting you. Is this the young officer who’s been put in charge of the new project?”
Boxey, surprised at the attention from this stranger, clutched Serina’s hand tightly and tried to hide behind her skirt. Apollo grinned at the man.
“Well, Doctor Wilker, I haven’t had time to fully discuss the project with him. It’s our hope he’ll accept, though.”
Boxey pulled on Serina’s skirt, clearly frightened. “Mommy, I wanna go back!” he whispered.
Apollo looked down at him with mock-seriousness, although his eyes were laughing.
“Boxey, this is a military order,” he said. “We have at least to hear the doctor out. Tell us more about the project, doctor.”
Dr. Wilker grinned at Boxey in the unmistakable manner of a man who finally got the chance to broach his favourite topic. Even Serina had to admit that his enthusiasm was somewhat… contagious. He must really have loved his job.
“Well, you see, we’ll soon be landing on various alien planets, and we cannot know what we’ll find there. It’s important that we be safe. Ordinarily, we’d have trained daggits to stand watch at night, when our people are asleep in their encampments, but we don’t have any daggits. So, we’ve had to see what we could come up with. We’ll call the first one Muffit Two.”
Boxey looked sideways at Apollo. “What’d he say?”
Apollo shrugged. “I don’t really get it all,” he turned to the scientist. “Doctor Wilker, maybe you’d better show us?”
Doctor Wilker ducked, his expression apologetic. He’d apparently forgotten that he’d been talking to a six-yahren old. “Right, right, I’m sorry. Leon, come in!”
The call to his assistant was just a bit overdone, like in one of those children’s programmes on old vids. Leon, a young, dark-skinned man with a head shaved and smooth as a marble, came in at once, shepherding before him the strangest creature Serina had ever seen.
It was apparently meant to represent a daggit, but both in size and looks was more similar to a baby ursus - with round, bulbous eyes of the size of saucers, small, curved ears that moved on their own (the soft whine of servos that moved them barely audible) and four identical legs that looked like metal columns covered with artificial fur. It was also bigger on all fours than any daggit that had ever lived on any of the Twelve Worlds - its head was almost at the same level as Boxey’s.
Leon pushed the daggit droid forward, and it immediately began to bark in a high-pitched, compellingly friendly tone. Actually, its visage was such that it would make the smallest child laugh: friendly, even though a little stupid. Moving to Boxey, it sat on its backside and poked the boy with its front paws, so that Boxey nearly fall over. The wagging of its tail was natural and convincing, unless you looked up close and could see that the tail protruded through a square hole at the back of the droid.
“Naturally,” Dr. Wilker said, “the first one will have to be looked after very carefully.
Boxey backed a couple of steps away from the eager daggit droid.
“That’s not Muffit,” he said accusingly. “It’s not even a real daggit!”
“No,” Dr. Wilker admitted softly. “But it can learn to be like a real one. It’s very smart. If you’d help us, he’ll be even smarter.”
Despite his mild disappointment about the daggit’s mechanical nature, Boxey couldn’t take his eyes off it. With the first hint of a smile in several days, he took another couple of steps backward from the daggit, who looked up quizzically and turned its ears. The boy started to cross the room, and the droid ran after him in a somewhat awkward manner that was seemed as clumsy as it was endearing.
“We used the image of Boxey you gave us to train the droid to respond him,” Wilker whispered to Apollo and Serina.
Boxey stopped walking and turned to look down at the droid. Slowly he opened his arms. The droid moved forward, sat up on its hind legs and put its paws on the boy’s chest. The trying-out period was over. Boxey hugged the daggit and smiled back at the three watching adults.
Apollo smiled at Wilker and said. “That’s one I owe you, Doc.”
“Any time,” Wilker said, his eyes a bit misty, making Serina wonder whether he’d lost any children or younger siblings in the Destruction. After all, it wasn’t exactly natural that the head scientist of the entire Fleet - and Wilker’s name had been a well-known one even before, he’d often appeared on Transmission to explain new scientific discoveries to the interested audience - would waste his time making mechanical pets for lost little boys.
As they followed Boxey and his new pet into the corridor, Serina whispered to Apollo. “That’s one I owe you, Apollo.”
Apollo smiled at her, looking happier than she’d seen ever since they’d first met on the surface of bombed-out Caprica. “Any time.”
“You look quite smug, you know that?” she teased.
He shrugged, still smiling, but softer now, in a way that was almost intimate. “If you say so.”
“But I’ll kiss you anyway.”
And she did, not caring that they were in a public corridor and anyone could have turned around a corner and caught them in the act.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Captain Apollo did not make it back to his own quarters to get proper rest on that afternoon. They brought Boxey back to the Child Care Centre for past-midday education - where he became the envy of all children because of his mechanical daggit - and then they returned to Serina’s modest room, where they made desperate love for a centare or two.
At first Serina was a bit surprised that a man with Apollo’ stiff upbringing could unbend enough to have casual sex with anyone of his own social circle - well, slightly beneath his own, but still - since as a devout Kobolian, the Commander probably wouldn’t have sanctioned such liberties. If one was the heir of a Great House of Caprica, one did not prey on those below one’s own rank yet still from noble blood. That was something Not Done… even though some people obviously indulged themselves in such practices, as she knew from first-hand experience. Still, it was considered as unworthy of a true patrician.
Professionals were a different matter, of course, yet Serina had the impression that Apollo couldn’t have employed their services all too often. He turned out endearingly simple in his lovemaking… she’d even risk to say that he was fairly inexperienced. Not entirely so, no… he was a good kisser, and seemed to know the movements he was supposed to go through, at the very least. But he was also easily embarrassed for a grown man, and some of her actions clearly amazed him - almost shocked.
Which had both its advantages and its disadvantages. On the plus side, she could easily make him dependant on her with pleasure. She’d been trained by an Aquarian, after all, and Patroclus had been highly skilled and very imaginative, even as Aquarians go. On the other side, she’d have her work cut out for her to train Apollo, so that their married life wouldn’t become deathly dull, very quickly. Add the responsibility of an important, yet decidedly not glorious job and the rising of a child not even her own, she could have easily gotten more than she’d bargained for.
In the end, however, the advantages clearly outweighed the disadvantages - especially aw he seemed to have developed almost paternal feelings for Boxey already. And so when she did let him out a couple of centares later - after a quick check that no-one would see him leave her quarters - she quietly congratulated herself for landing on her feet again, more so than ever before.
Granted, he wasn’t the kind of man she’d have picked under normal circumstances. But he was handsome, of the highest social status one could find in the entire Fleet, he seemed besotted with her - and he was apparently very fond of Boxey. He’d do just nicely… if she managed to get her hooks in him properly.
The fact that his father so obviously approved would serve to her advantage as well. Despite their recent, heated arguments, Apollo clearly respected his father enormously and would go a long way to please him… and giving the old man an heir would be among the first things Adama would want from him. Things were looking reasonably good - unless he managed to get himself killed by a Cylon mine tomorrow.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the next morning, Serina was called to the Viper deck in her function as the Fleet’s official chronist, to witness the three pilots selected for the dangerous mission being seen off by the Commander. Apollo had chosen Lieutenants Starbuck and Boomer indeed, just as Lieutenant Omega had predicted, and while Boomer simply seemed nervous and unhappy, Starbuck moved around with great care, as if he were in pain.
“What happened to him?” Serina asked Deitra, who, like many other pilots, had come to see the heroes of the day off.
The shuttle pilot from the Atlantia grinned. “Athena happened. It seems Starbuck has picked up a socialator from one of the Gemini freighters and brought her over to the Galactica for medical treatment…”
Serina nodded. “I know. I saw them at Life Station while waiting for my check-out.”
“Really?” Deitra’s kava brown eyes lit up with interest. “What is she like?”
Serina considered the question for a moment. “Blond. Pretty. Wearing a clinging outfit that would become transparent in the right light. Doubtlessly shrewd enough to use any situation to her advantage. What socialators are like. So, what happened?”
Deitra’s grin grew from ear to ear. “Apparently, Athena caught them on one of the monitors as they were rolling around in a launching tube, half-naked.”
“In a launching tube?” Serina whistled softly. “Imaginative.”
“Perhaps, but not very practical,” Deitra said. “Especially as the launching tubes are usually steam purged by remote control.”
Serina stared at the Libran woman in shock. “She didn’t…!”
“Oh yes, she did,” Deitra replied in deep satisfaction. “It was a long way coming for Starbuck, I’d say. He’s grown too comfortable with all his ex-girlfriends forgiving him, no matter what.”
“But how will he be able to fly in that condition?” Serina asked in concern. Not that she’d cared for Starbuck, but if the blond pilot wasn’t in top form, that could have endangered Apollo, too. “His entire back must be raw!”
She almost felt sorry for the man. Almost.
“Oh, they’ve fixed him up at Life Station well enough,” Deitra waved off her concern breezily. “Sure, he’s a little tender, and wearing a pressure suit must be hell right now; but I hope he’s learned his lesson: no double-teaming on the Commander’s daughter.”
“Remind me never to make her mad at me,” Serina said, still shocked a little by the ruthless action of Athena. But again, she was a warrior. Trained to fight for what she considered dear… and hers.
Deitra nodded in complete agreement, and then they watched the Commander see off the three pilots with a few heartfelt words.
“We don’t have time for elaborate searches,” he then told them. “You’ll have to navigate by scanner and sweep everything out of your path with turbo lasers. Any questions?”
“One, sir,” Starbuck, clearly as irrepressible as said about him, raised his hand. “My bio-pulse line says this is a bad time for me to be cooped up in a cockpit. Would this be an appropriate time for me to take my sick leave?”
Adama smiled. The other two pilots grinned nervously.
“It would,” the Commander said, “but request denied. You three control our fate. The rest of us will sit in anticipation of your skill.”
“Or the lack thereof,” Starbuck joked, and Adama rolled his eyes.
“Well,” Apollo said, ”there’s no easy way to do this - so let us get out there and do it.”
The other two nodded in agreement and went to their Vipers for a final check with the mechanics. The rest cleared the bay and went back to their respective stations to follow the progress on the viewscreens.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Serina wasn’t particularly surprised when the Commander invited her to Core Command, where she’d be able to see everything first-hand. It was her job to document the progress, after all. As she followed Adama and his entourage out of the Viper bay, however, she found herself walking next to Athena… who didn’t seem happy with the turn things had just taken.
“I can’t believe he’s doing this!” she ranted in a low voice; too low for the ears of anyone but Serina to hear. “Why couldn’t he have listened to the others, gone to Borallus, instead of this filthy and dangerous place?”
“He had his reasons,” Serina replied, just as quietly. “Sound reasons, as far as I can tell. Besides, do you think the Nomes would be pleased if a fleet of hungry people showed up on their doorstep? If there are any Nomes left, that is?”
Athena couldn’t really dismiss that simple truth, but she wasn’t about to give up, either. Not yet.
“He’s taking such an awful chance with their lives!” she muttered bitterly.
Serina nodded. “Yes, he does. And they know that. They volunteered… at least Apollo did. The others could have backed off without blame, I assume.”
“Yeah, because Starbuck would ever back out of a dangerous mission!” Athena snorted.
Serina thought to understand her. After all, Athena was still a young girl who’d already lost half of her family. It was understandable that she’d cling to the loved ones that she still had.
“Is it your brother you’re worrying about - or rather Lieutenant Starbuck?” she asked.
Athena’s shoulders sagged suddenly as all the rage seemed to go out of her in a rush.
“It’s not just Starbuck. I’m worried about Apollo, too - you ought to know that by now. And Boomer… he’s such a good, solid man, such a good friend. It’s just that - oh, I don’t even know what it really is!”
Was I ever this young? Serina wondered, but out loud she said, choosing her words carefully.
“Well, if you love Lieutenant Starbuck, you’re naturally…”
“I hate that little tramp!” Athena burst out. It was a remarkably… controlled outburst, Serina found, but the sentiment behind it seemed genuine.
“You’ll have to fight for you man, then,” she replied. “I don’t think that would be so hard for you… what I’ve heard, you are a fighter. And you can even fight dirty, which is a good thing. With such an adversary, you’ll have to fight dirty.”
The pale cheeks of Adama’s daughter coloured a little. “Where have you heard that?”
“The only thing that travels faster than light in this universe is gossip,” Serina replied, smiling. “Lieutenant Deitra was so impressed with your action that she felt the need to share.”
“I’m not proud of what I’ve done, myself,” Athena admitted glumly. “I used to think I could cure myself of Starbuck, get a pill from Life Station or something and forget about him. But when I saw them, writhing around in a launching tube, half-naked… my rage just went through with me.”
“Why would you want to forget him?” Serina asked. “Especially now, when everything we still have is each other, shouldn’t we cling to the few loved ones we still have?”
“I don’t know,” Athena sighed. “I’m very disturbed, and I don’t know what to think. It’s this war, and the Destruction; our home planets gone, and this desperate voyage to a place where we don’t know what we’ll find…”
“You don’t trust the judgement of your father?” Serina asked carefully. Athena shrugged.
“Oh, I do… as a rule. He has saved us all, hasn’t he? But we’ve been on this voyage for some time now, and everything is in a different perspective. Hopeless. That’s why I’m so frightened about this… this mission. Everything has been hopeless since… since Cimtar. Assuming they survive this… assuming any of us survive, what next? Will we find this Earth Father claims is not a myth?”
“Perhaps not,” Serina allowed. She could hear some of her own doubts mirrored in Athena’s words all too clearly.
“I was thinking that,” Athena nodded grimly. “We could grow old waiting. I mean, we may never have the chance… the chance to… to…”
“To form permanent relationships, have children and a home?” Serina finished for her. Lords, but she’s so young!
Athena nodded. “Yes. A Battlestar is not the place to raise children - nor are most of the other ships, for that matter. But if we cannot raise the next generation to take over our heritage, why go such lengths to survive in the first place? Just to live out the rest of our lives in our flying coffins?”
Her voice was bitter and resigned, a chilling contrast to her youth and beauty.
“It’s too soon for you to be concerned about old age,” Serina answered lightly. “Let’s deal with it one step a time. Let’s hope we manage to find food and fuel on Carillon - that would enable us to continue our journey… and give us hope to find, if not the mythical Earth, then a place where we can settle and recover.
Athena gave her a doubtful look. “You really believe that?”
Serina shrugged. “I have to; or else I could simply walk out of the nearest airlock. And whatever happened, I’m not ready to die just yet.”
“No-one is at the dawn of new love,” Athena smiled, and Serina realized that young though she might be, there wasn’t much happening aboard the Galactica that she wouldn’t find out sooner or later.
It was her home, after all. And being a bridge officer apparently had its perks.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They reached the bridge at that point, and the discussion stopped. Athena hurried over to the sensors to take her station. Serina was guided to a semi-separated little niche near the Commander’s office, where she could make her records undisturbed.
The Commander himself, with Colonel Tigh on his side, stood on the rotating command deck. Below, Flight Corporal Rigel was going through the pre-flight check with the three pilots. She, too, seemed awfully young with her long braids doubled back on both sides of her head, in the fashion of her now-gone home planet. There could be no doubt that she originated from Virgon.
“Vipers Blue One through Three, pre-flight check is finished,” she said in her gentle, child-like voice. “All systems show up green. Launch when ready.”
“I am ready,” came the cool sound of Apollo's voice. “What about you, Starbuck?”
“I’m not ready,” Starbuck said with emphasis, “but let’s get it over with anyway.”
“Blue Three ready,” Boomer’s sturdy voice said, his slight Leonid accent thicker than usual, perhaps due to the pressure.
There was a short, tense pause, then the launch lights came on, and the three ships catapulted into space. Establishing a neat triangular formation, they headed for the minefield.
“I’m going in for preliminary scouting,” Apollo said.
“Good luck,” Boomer and Starbuck answered simultaneously.
“Don’t jinx me with good wishes,” Apollo said, laughter in his voice. “It could turn against me.”
“Yeah, sure,” Starbuck replied in the same manner. “Just make a sweep by the nearest thing; we’ll be right behind you.”
Watching the three asterisks symbolizing the three Vipers move towards the minefield, Serina found herself prying fervently to all and any Lords of Kobol that might listen to watch over the three pilots and help them through this dangerous task in one piece.
At least she hoped they would listen. After the Destruction, nobody could be all that sure about that any longer. Not even the devout Kobolians who took the Book of the Word quite literally.
Chapter 10 - Carillon