01 - Battlestar Galactica (6 page)

Outside, on the hangar floor, deck crewman Jane Cally paused in what she was
doing, which was helping her crewmate Leonard Prosna into a spacesuit for a
maintenance job. “Hold it,” she said, trying to get him to stand still for a
moment. Then, louder, “Hold up!” Prosna looked puzzled, but she wasn’t speaking
to him, she was yelling to Brad Socinus, who was heading for the Tool Room with
a heavy toolkit in his arms.

“What?” Socinus asked. “Oh, don’t tell me.”

“Yeah, the groping light is on in there.”

“Oh, frak me,” Socinus said, looking for a place to set down the crate.

“Just put it over there,” Cally said, pointing to a work bench that had a
small, bare patch on top.

Socinus groaned and set the load down. “This is getting out of control, you
know. Has the chief lost his mind?”

“Hey,” said Cally, getting back to adjusting Prosna’s spacesuit, “it’s none
of our damn business, is it?”

Prosna finally snorted. “It’s our frakking business if he gets busted for
banging his superior officer. They’ll
both
get busted. You think that
won’t affect us?”

Cally started to reply, but finally shrugged it off with a shake of her head.
They all knew Tyrol’s affair with Boomer was highly illegal, and a mighty
dangerous game. So far, they were all looking the other way, out of loyalty to
Galen Tyrol. But how long could they protect him? How long before someone less
forgiving—someone like the XO, say—found out what was going on? Maybe they were
just hoping that the ship would be retired before it happened.

“Let’s just hope they don’t get caught,” Cally said at last, having no other
answer.

“Fat frakking chance,” was all Socinus had to say.

The Squadron Ready Room was nearly filled with pilots when the CAG, Jackson
Spencer, started the briefing. The Commander Air Group was the chief pilot for
all the squadrons on the ship, and the one who was charged with seeing that all
flying squadrons faithfully executed the orders of the ship’s master, Commander Adama. It was
the CAG who set both the tone and the rules, and if any of his pilots busted
either, it was his job to bust them. That rarely happened with a crew as well
trained as this one, though. Mostly his job was to see that the flying went
smoothly, and safely.

The CAG began the briefing with a review of the mission immediately before
them: “Today’s the main event. We have a formation demonstration—flyby maneuvers
in conjunction with the decommissioning ceremony. I’ve got a few changes to the
flight plan. Lieutenant Thrace is being replaced in the slot by Lieutenant
Anders.” There was no need to say why; everyone knew that Kara Thrace, Starbuck,
was in the brig. “Also, we have Captain Lee Adama joining us, and he’s going to
be flying lead during the flyby, so… please, welcome the captain!”

That brought some applause, many turned heads, and a number of calls of
welcome, as all the other pilots in the room craned their necks to see the flyer
they knew by reputation, and to greet the man they knew to be their commander’s
son. Lee himself shifted in his seat, and forced an uncomfortable smile.

The CAG continued. “Now, thanks to Chief Tyrol and his deck gang, Captain,
you’re going to have the honor of flying the actual Viper that your father flew
once, forty years ago.” The CAG paused for a reaction from Lee.

Momentarily unable to speak, Lee fiddled with his pen for a few seconds.
Finally, he said awkwardly, “Great. That’s um… that’s… quite an honor.”

Around him, silent puzzlement registered at his apparent lack of enthusiasm;
one or two of the pilots snorted softly.
Let them,
Lee thought.
They
don’t know him the way I do.
The CAG’s face darkened almost imperceptibly as
he responded, “Yes, it is, Captain. And personally I can’t think of a better way
to send this ship into retirement.”

And personally you can’t think of a reason why they would invite a jerk like
me to a ceremony honoring my father, right? Well, I could name a lot of better
ways to retire this old hulk. And the man you all look up to so much.

Lee managed another smile, and a nod.

The CAG moved on to the down-and-dirty details of the maneuvers they would be
flying later that day.

It was a day that, for Lee, could not end soon enough.

Caprica City, Government Center Plaza

Coming down the steps from the Defense Ministry, her arm draped over Baltar’s
shoulder, Natasi listened tolerantly as Gaius went on about the success of his
latest project, the Central Navigation Program currently being deployed and
tested in the Colonial fleet. Really—she loved him, and could barely keep her
hands off him, but when he got going on his accomplishments, there was no
shutting him off.

“It may interest you to know,” he was saying, tightening his arm around her
waist, “that the final results are in on the CNP project. It’s working at close
to ninety-five percent efficiency throughout the fleet.” She half expected him
to stop and take a bow, but instead he continued without a beat, “Hold your
applause, please.”

“No applause for me?” she asked, her head turned away from him.
My, aren’t
you
satisfied?
“I doubt you would ever have completed the project
without me.” She finally looked at him.

Gaius casually drew a mouthful of smoke from his cigar. “Yes, well, you…
helped
a bit…”

“I
rewrote
half your algorithms.”

“All right, you were extremely helpful.” He peered at her through his dark
glasses. “But let’s not forget, you got something out of it. All that poking
around inside the Defense mainframe should give you a huge advantage bidding for
the contract next year.”

She turned to face him. “You know that’s not really why I did it.”

He paused and looked away. “No, you did it because you love me.”

She drew him back and allowed just flicker of a smile on her lips. “That, and
God wanted me to help you.”

A pained expression crossed his face, and he pulled off his dark glasses.
“Right, he spoke to you, did he? You had a chat?” Now, instead of pained, he
looked supercilious.

Deliberately and tolerantly, she said, “He didn’t speak to me in a literal
voice. And you don’t have to mock my faith.”

“I’m sorry,” Gaius said. “I’m just not very religious.”

To say the least.
“Does it bother you that I am?”

He sighed, obviously groping for words. He put his arm back around her waist,
and began walking again. “It puzzles me that an intelligent, attractive woman
such as yourself should be taken in by mysticism and superstition.” His voice
suddenly turned lecherous. “But I’m willing to overlook it, on account of your
other attributes.”

She laughed, and turned to stop him with a hand to his chest. “I have to go.
I’m meeting someone.”

“Really? Who is he? I’m insanely jealous.”

She leaned into him with a chuckle. “I doubt that.”

Gaius looked slightly disconcerted. He put a fingertip to her nose. “So
touchy today.” Almost imperceptibly gathering his ego, he continued, “Well, as a
matter of fact, I’m meeting someone, too—business. A new project at Defense I
might do. So, uh”—he kissed her on the cheek—“you’ll call me later. Right?”
Without waiting for an answer, he sauntered away.

She watched him go, then turned to be on with her business. She stopped
before she’d taken more than a step. Her entire mood and outlook changed as she
greeted her colleague. “It’s about time,” she said. “I wondered when you’d get
here.”

Her contact nodded. “It is indeed. The time has almost come.”

She drew a breath and sighed.
So soon. The work is nearly finished.
“All right, then. I’d like to be with him.”

The other nodded again. “Of course. There is much for him to do yet. And one
way or another, you will always be with him.”

Galactica,
Port and Starboard Landing Bays

The giant warship
Galactica
boasted two complete landing
systems—essentially, parallel runways enclosed in enormous tubes, one on either
flank of the great spaceship. On the right, or starboard, side, the huge landing
bay had already been turned into a huge museum hall. Twenty-odd older-model
Vipers of various vintages had been brought in, and were in the process of being
converted to display units. Various historical exhibits were being prepared,
including actual Cylon Centurions, warrior robots captured during the Cylon War
forty years ago. A scale model depicted the most dreaded of all war machines,
the Cylon base star—the enemy’s counterpart to the Colonial battlestar, but much
larger, and in nearly every way more powerful. The work on preparing the
exhibits proceeded quietly, steadily, and for the most part, outside the
day-to-day awareness of the
Galactica
crew. It was far enough along,
though, to make quite an impression on visitors for the dedication ceremony.

On the opposite side of the ship, the port landing bay was still very much in use. In fact, it was busier than usual, what with the arriving
vessels and the fact that it was now doing the work of two bays. The large
passenger transport coming in just now looked like a toy boat as it settled to a
stop in the long cavern of the landing bay. It was carrying the chief VIP for
the dedication ceremonies, the Secretary of Education for the Twelve Colonies.

“Colonial Transport Seven-Niner-Eight heavy, welcome to
Galactica.
Please stand by, and keep your passengers seated, while we bring you down into
the hangar deck.”

“Galactica,
Colonial Seven-Niner-Eight heavy, roger.”

It took a little longer to get the large transport squared away than it did a
small Viper, but eventually its doors opened, and people started streaming out.
They were escorted across the hangar floor by the deckhands, and shown the way
to the ladders that would take them down to E Deck, where their guides awaited
them.

Billy Keikeya was first down the ladder, but the well-groomed man in civilian
dress who waited to greet them called first to Laura Roslin as she was still
negotiating the ladder. “Secretary Roslin?”

“Yes.” The secretary stepped off the ladder and turned.

After greeting her, the man finally spoke to Billy. “Mister Krekare?”

“Keikeya,” Billy corrected him.

“Oh—sorry. My name’s Aaron Doral.” Shaking hands with both of them, Mr. Doral
spoke quickly as he continued, “I’m from Public Relations. I’d like to welcome
you aboard
Galactica.”

“Thank you,” Laura said.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

They set off through the corridors, and Billy was almost at once overwhelmed
by the new sights and the bustle of activity, with ship’s crew members striding
purposefully through a bewildering series of intersecting corridors. The whole
look of the place was surprisingly clunky and old fashioned compared to the transport
he’d just come in on—or to just about anything on Caprica. The passageways were
blocked off at regular intervals by bulkheads and huge metal hatches with rims,
or coamings, that one had to step over to get from compartment to compartment.
Storage lockers lined the walls everywhere, filling just about every nook and
cranny If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought he was on a submarine.

Overhead speakers kept coming alive for announcements. At one point, the
announcement was to welcome the Secretary of Education to the
Galactica.
Billy was tired, but intrigued. He paused at one intersection to look around.
His eye was caught by an attractive, copper-complexioned crewwoman with long
dark hair in a ponytail, and he turned to watch her pass. It was only when she
turned to look back at
him
with a sharp, captivating gaze that he
realized he was staring. He returned to his senses with a start, and hurried
after the Secretary and Mr. Doral.

The only problem was, they were out of sight. He whirled this way and that,
trying to figure out which way they might have gone. Too many choices. “Madame
Secretary?” he called. Taking a guess, he chose a passageway branching off the
right, followed it a short distance, then halted, suddenly uncertain. He started
down another, turned a corner, and realized he was now completely lost.
Sweating, feeling like a dunce, he tried a different direction.
Great. If
they didn’t already think you were too young for the job, this’ll clinch it.
“Madame Secretary!”

He moved more quickly, down a hallway that at least seemed large enough to be
a main corridor. There was an announcement tone overhead, and the intercom
voice, saying,
“Attention all hands. There is an EVA in progress outside the
hull. Do not radiate any electrical
…”

Billy found himself in front of a large hatch. Well, maybe they’d gone this way, and that was why they couldn’t hear his calls. Taking a
breath, he pulled it open. To his complete embarrassment, he found himself
standing in the doorway to a large bathroom, in which about a dozen men—and
women—were in various stages of undress while showering or washing at sinks.

The nearest woman, dressed only in a black bra and the bottom half of a
jumpsuit, glared up from the wash basin and said, “In… or out!”

“Excuse me?” He realized, dizzily, that this was the same dark-complexioned
woman he had seen just a few minutes ago in the corridor.

“Get in or get out. Shut the hatch,” she said, continuing to scrub at her
face with a washcloth.

“Oh—sorry!” he said, reaching to pull the hatch closed behind him.

The woman looked up at him with tolerant exasperation. She had gorgeous eyes.
“Where are you trying to be?”

He struggled to find his voice. “Uh—visitors’ quarters.” He winced, stepping
aside for more people coming into the room. “I’m a visitor.”