Battlestar Galactica-03-Resurrection Page 6

  "Yeah, but then they wake up and ruin it all," Cassie answered without turning.

  Athena stepped closer to the med-berth, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Cassiopeia. They pretended to watch Starbuck for a length of time, neither wanting to be the first to speak what was really on her mind. "A micron of your time, Cassiopeia?" Athena asked at last.

  Cassie nodded. "Of course," she said. I've been expecting this, anyway.

  She led Athena out of the med unit and into the small waiting hall, empty now, and dimly lighted. Cassie dropped some cubits into a beverage dispensing unit, pressed a button. A cup dropped and a pre-measured amount of some unidentifiable manner of liquid poured itself into the cup. Cassie removed the first one, handed it to Athena, fed another round of cubits into the unit, took a second cup for herself. They drank their beverages quietly, the silence becoming a weight neither would be able to grapple with much longer.

  Athena had wanted to speak with Cassie, get certain subjects out into the open, and now, she wasn't sure how to begin. The two women had always had a caustic, adversarial relationship from the time they met and began to compete for Starbuck's attentions.

  "I know we rarely speak to each other," Athena began; she still wasn't sure what, exactly, she wanted to say, but hoped she might be able to define their perimeter and then work her way inward, toward the heart of the thing. "Then, when Starbuck was injured… I thought this conversation would be a moot point, at best, but obviously, things have changed now… again," she added, and laughed a little.

  "Yes, that's Starbuck," Cassie agreed. "Unpredictable, even when he's comatose." She did not want to be the first to say what they both knew Athena was angling toward.

  She finished her drink and pitched her cup into the recycling bin. "You've never shared anything with me before," Cassie pointed out. "Never tried to reach out as long as we've known each other. So—pardon my directness—why start now?"

  Athena stared into her half-empty cup, as if the answer might be found floating there, but all she saw was her own small reflection looking back at her, and neither of them seemed to have an answer.

  "When I first met you," Athena began, surprised to hear the sound of her own voice; she hadn't really known what she was going to say. "I thought you were a cheap…" She caught herself before she could finish, but it didn't matter. They both knew what she meant: Being a socialator and all.

  "Well, anyway, what I mean is," Athena continued, face lowered, hoping it hid her ruddy cheeks, "you've worked really hard, and look what all you've accomplished. You're almost a doctor now. A doctor," she repeated, almost in awe. Cassiopeia was becoming so much more than Athena could ever have envisioned for her, becoming invaluable to the Galactica.

  It surprised Athena to hear herself admit it, but she was actually coming to admire Cassie. What an uncertain world they lived in. If ever Athena needed a reminder of that, this was it.

  "I've had to study and work hard all my life," Athena confessed. "Gods know, Adama was a great man, but he expected his children to surpass him. How do you surpass a legend? And I don't know if I've ever completely proved how capable I really am. So I guess it was really hard to see Starbuck falling for, well, for…"

  "For someone like me?" Cassie finished, a smile of bemusement on her face.

  Athena laughed, despite herself. "You're not going to make this easy, are you? Yes, for someone like you. I felt like I had to work hard for everything I accomplished, for every bit of recognition I got, and then, you just breeze in and make Starbuck fall for you."

  It was Cassiopeia's turn to laugh now. "It's one thing to make Starbuck fall for you," she said; "it's something else trying to keep him."

  "Well, be that as it may," Athena said, setting her cup aside on the small table top beside the beverage unit, "I was unfair to you. I made it my personal mission to undermine you and your integrity and… I'm sorry. I had no idea who you really were and I'm sorry.

  "I hope we can be friends," Athena continued. "I really don't have any close friends, you know. Everybody's afraid to get too close to Adama's daughter."

  Whatever it was Cassiopeia might have been expecting Athena to say, this was not it. For a moment, she had no idea how to respond. Her thoughts were tripping all over themselves, so she pushed reason aside and let her emotions take the stage. She was genuinely touched by Athena's honesty and the fact that she had taken that first, difficult step toward reconciliation.

  Before she knew she was going to do it, Cassie placed her hand on the back of Athena's, resting lightly against the edge of the small table. The gesture surprised Athena, but she made no effort to pull away.

  "Thank you," Cassie said, and broke into a warm smile. "And, I'd like to be friends, too."

  Athena squeezed Cassiopeia's hand in hers, quick and brief. She was learned in many things, but simple human friendships were new territory to Athena, and she was unsure how to proceed from this point. She did not make it easy to get to know her, but then, she really didn't know how. The map of the human heart is not charted on any holocube; in that territory, we're all just blind explorers.

  "It's all right," Cassie continued, sensing what this talk was really about, or at least, what it started out being about. "I know how you feel about Starbuck. I will always love him, and I will always lust after him, but I cannot allow myself to go through all that again. It isn't healthy for me."

  She took Athena's hands in hers, as if she were passing on some torch, and said, "Go to him. Go, with my blessings. I only hope you have better luck than I did." And, since they were being honest, she added, "Thank you… for coming to me first. That shows you respect me… even if you don't like me very much."

  Athena said, "You need to understand how I was raised. Who my father was—"

  "Doesn't work," Cassie told her. "Adama never looked down on me. Apollo never has."

  Athena nodded. "That wasn't really quite what I meant. Adama raised us both to be our best, and Apollo is, whether he realizes it or not. But to be the best means you get what you go after, and I went after Starbuck and you got him." She sighed, and drained her drink. Being honest was thirsty work. "It all seemed so easy for you. All the men, all the attention, all the friends—"

  "You've had men. You have friends."

  "I have acquaintances," Athena corrected her. "Gods, how I wish I could just, I don't know, free myself from Adama's upbringing just long enough to… I don't know… dance on the tabletops, or drink until I pass out…"

  Cassie laughed at the idea of Athena doing either one of these things. "There, you see?" Athena said, jabbing her with her finger. "That's my point. Even the idea of Adama's daughter doing something like that is just ridiculous, isn't it? But you—"

  "Hold up there," Cassie said, putting up her hand, palm to Athena. "Little Cassiopeia hasn't danced on tables in a long, long time."

  "But you did," Athena said. "You weren't afraid to do that. You weren't afraid what anyone thought of you."

  "Of course I worried what people thought of me," she said, softly. "That's why I did it. They might not have liked me, otherwise. And then, I realized they liked me all right, but for all the wrong reasons. That's when I decided to start pulling my life together."

  "You've done well," Athena told her. "I just wish… I could be a little more like you."

  "So, what's stopping you?" Cassie shrugged.

  "My father —"

  "Your father, sweetheart, is dead," Cassie said, a touch sternly. She was trying to get Athena to cut through some felgercarb. "Sorry to be so blunt, but… frack! Get over it! Start doing what makes you happy. Adama wouldn't begrudge you that, I'm sure of it."

  Athena hugged herself, head lowered. "It isn't that easy."

  "What is? Hell, even I'm not, any more," Athena looked at her, and Cassie had to laugh at the expression on her face. "It's a joke… it's okay to laugh."

  Athena did, a trifle hesitantly, but it was a start.

  "Well, whoever would have though
t this day would come?" Cassie commented. "Commander's Adama's snooty daughter and the ex-socialator, sharing a drink and a laugh."

  Athena checked her cup, found it empty, but upended it anyway, taking what little bit of liquid still clung to the bottom and sides, and wiped the corner of her mouth with the backs of her knuckles. "I appreciate the frank talk," she said, "but if you ever call me snooty again, I'll kick your frackin' ass."

  Cassie looked at her, mouth agape, afraid she had, perhaps, been a little too honest and frank for her own good. And then, Athena laughed and placed her hand on Cassie's shoulder. "It's a joke… it's okay to laugh," she assured her.

  Cassie laughed and hugged Athena. They made a little more small-talk, and then, Cassie said she had to get back to the med-unit. Athena nodded, said she understood and promised they'd talk again, real soon. Cassie watched her go, and wondered how long it would be before Athena was back, crying for a different reason.

  "You're going to need all the luck you can get," she said softly, and returned to work.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KIRASOLIA.

  It had taken weeks of traveling, weeks filled with bickering and dissension, but at last, the northern hemisphere of the mythical planet loomed into view. Athena and Tigh stood on the bridge of the Galactica, watching silently as the planet filled the great forward flatscreen. There was cloud cover; somewhere over Kirasolia's equator, an ocean storm was battering the injured coastline. Flashes of lightning stutter-pulsed at the membranous edges black-gray clouds, and gale-force winds blew great troughs in the face of the sea.

  "Gods of Kobol be praised," Apollo said softly. Tigh and Athena had been so intent upon their planetary approach they had not noticed Apollo as he joined them on the bridge.

  He stepped nearer the flatscreen, approaching the projected image of the giant planet with awe and reverence. The holocube had been right; Kirasolia existed. There was, at last, proof of the Thirteenth Tribe. Apollo placed his palm against the screen, and tropical lightning on the surface of Kirasolia seemed to leap and dance beneath his hand, as if he controlled the very elements.

  "Send a scout team, scan for minerals, life forms; confirm a breathable atmosphere." Apollo said, unable to take his eyes away from their possible salvation. He also knew it was the source of his possible downfall, for soon he and Cain would present their vastly differing ideologies to the Quorum. But for the moment, he could only smile, and offer a silent prayer of thanks to the Lords of Kobol and his father's spirit for bringing them to this place.

  Word was instantly relayed from Omega through Rigel to Dalton, Boomer, Jolly, and Troy, to prepare for immediate launch.

  Troy scrambled for his Viper, but he couldn't help but notice Dalton, standing near Trays' ship, talking with him.

  He couldn't hear what was being said, but from the look on their faces, it wouldn't take much imagination to guess. Dalton slipped her arms around his neck, standing on the ball of one foot to reach his mouth, her other leg canted at a ninety-degree angle, and kissed Trays.

  That used to be me, Troy thought, feeling his face burn.

  "Suck face later," he yelled at Dalton, purposely spoiling her moment. But what was one moment when she clearly had countless others with this new man? "We have an order, let's do it."

  Trays said something that made Dalton laugh, and gave her another quick kiss on the cheek. She was running across the great, open floor, heading for her Viper as Troy climbed into the cockpit of his own. They had flown a Viper Duet before, had surrendered to one another's rhythms and become one, now that seemed a lifetime ago. It was almost inconceivable to him they had ever been that close, when now the sight of her was a brutal dagger stab to his heart. He couldn't imagine ever being that close to her again, and he felt lost.

  Still, he watched her safely into her own ship before he sealed the hatch of his own.

  "Now who's holding up the show?" Dalton's voice sounded tinny in Troy's helmet's comm-unit. "Shake your pogees and let's go."

  Troy fitted his Warrior's helm into place and sealed it. A helm was open at the face until it was donned, at which time a barely visible energy shield would activate, sealing the face and neck breach. The sealed helm also housed a rebreather/filter function, allowing its wearer to breathe normally in any environment containing at least a trace of oxygen.

  Forward, the launch aperture had irised open and Vipers were already hurtling down the long, lighted launch tube. Troy loved the building g-forces that pressed him back into his seat, because they meant flight, and freedom, and infinite possibilities.

  Troy's Viper blasted from the Galactica's launch bay and began its descent toward Kirasolia. The other ships followed, in formation.

  A constant stream of data, or info-scroll, flooded across Troy's helm, but he ignored most of it. It was important to know what to ignore and what to pay attention to: paying attention to all of that data could make a pilot lose concentration on the immediate matters.

  He looked, instead, at the shimmering holomap of Kirasolia, then up through the thermal ranges; the surface of the planet was incredibly hot, and seemed to be a constant roil of electrical storms. On the holo-map, a small, clear opening appeared in the planet's bristling atmosphere.

  Troy set his Viper's coordinates and made his way toward the eye of the storm.

  The atmospheric turbulence was terrible, and Troy had to grip the navi-helm with both hands to keep the shimmying Viper from losing control. "Brace yourselves for a rough ride," he warned the other pilots trailing him.

  He might have said more, but the Viper had suddenly taken on all the aerodynamic qualities of a flung stone, and he fought hard against the navi-helm, feeling himself being thrown from side to side in the cramped little cockpit, his head banging sharply against the canopy. He yiped his pain, and hoped the others hadn't heard his outcry. "Everybody all right?" he asked over his comm-link. A volley of grunted affirmatives followed, and he immediately refocused on cutting his way through the turbulent atmosphere. The muscles in his arms were as hard and stiff as marble, and he gripped the stick as if a galvanizing current of electricity kept him frozen there.

  And then, his Viper was below the worst of the buffeting winds and Troy almost over-compensated as control returned to him. The other ships blasted through the eye of the storm and beneath the slate-gray clouds. Below the storm, the cyclonic winds were powerful, but the little Vipers had been built to withstand explosive stresses.

  "Can we send a narrow-beam transmission back to the Galactica?" Troy asked Boomer over his comm-link. "Let them know we've made planetfall?"

  Boomer's voice crackled in Troy's helm, shredded by the high concentration of ions in the atmosphere. "Not through this weather," Troy managed to make out. "They'll just have to wait for it. Nobody fan out too far," Boomer cautioned. "If we lose you in this, I can't guarantee we'll be able to find your homing signal."

  Troy checked his external sensors. Temperature on the planet seemed to be hovering around one hundred degrees Celsius. This explained the terrible storms—the heat would only agitate the atmosphere, forcing it to erupt in violent electrical storms. Troy had a feeling there hadn't been an actual rainfall on Kirasolia in quite some time; if any moisture ever fell, it would quickly evaporate before it ever struck the ground, boiled away by the stiflingly hot air.

  Off to his starboard side, Troy saw a great bolt of lightning spike downward from the heavens, just missing Dalton's Viper. The backwash of the charged atmosphere made her ship shudder spastically, and Troy cursed loudly. "Save your concern," Dalton answered across the staticky comm-link. "I'm good."

  "Forgive me for caring," Troy muttered in hurt and disgust.

  The landscape of Kirasolia was rough and craggy, heat-blasted earth and jagged rock. The bits of flora that survived the brutal temperatures were as harsh as the planet that had spawned it. Great, twisted plants, brown as mud, thrust their way up from the ground; they were covered with spikes and veiny growths, as if there were some predato
r this natural defense kept at bay. If that were true, Troy decided right then he didn't want to see the fauna that fed upon the plant life.

  The horizon rolled on into darkness; lightning struck at the rim of the world and illuminated the distance in fitful, angry bursts. But even from here, the Warriors could see the unrelieved, blighted landscape, just rocks and dirt, an endless carpeting of ruin.

  "One pass to get our readings," Boomer's voice crackled, fading with a pulse of white noise, then roaring back stronger and louder. "And then, we head back. Understood?"

  No one argued.

  "How is this possible?"

  Apollo looked at the report the survey team had filed just moments ago, bewilderment etched on his features. If there had ever been life on Kirasolia, it either did not survive or it had moved on to a less-hostile world. There were no Tylium deposits; even the atmosphere was unbreathable. He shook his head. The long-range scanners had given them cause for hope, but the survey team's report would thoroughly dash it.

  He tugged at his lower lip, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

  The report was suddenly slapped from Apollo's hand, the papers fluttering and see-sawing to the floor. Apollo looked up, staring into Cain's nearly-apoplectic face.

  "Are you happy now?" he thundered. "Now that you've gambled everything on a fairy-story and doomed the fleet?"

  "Commander, this is not the time—" Apollo began, stiffly.

  "You are correct, Apollo," Cain agreed. "The time was earlier, when we might at least have stocked up on reserves of Tylium from one of Xeric's many moons. It was a terrible error to travel such a great distance without taking on stores of fuel."

  Apollo sighed wearily. This argument again? "Weren't you there?" he asked. "Perhaps I saw something you didn't, such as the arrival of three Cylon basestars."

  Cain nodded, his lips slicked back in a feral snarl. "I saw them, and instead of fighting them off until we could take on supplies, you turned tail and ran. That, I wish I hadn't seen."