Battlestar Galactica 04 - Rebellion

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Battlestar Galactica Rebellion by Richard Hatch

Chapter One

FOR A man who lived almost all his life in space, Apollo had a planet-bound dream. Imagine a planet

tearing itself apart; a glowing rock heart melting and bursting from continent-sized cracks. All that was,

sinking.

Volcanoes exploding. Molten magma running brilliant red down black mountains.

Apollo dreamt this. The lava licked at his heels as he ran. If he paused for a micron, it would swallow

him whole.

He'd wake, covered in sweat, breathing hard, legs cramping. How could a man run so hard in his sleep?

Why would a space-flown man dream of what destroys great planets? You'd think a battlestar, or a

Viper or a Cylon basestar, better still.

But it was planet-bound, not flying, but running. Feet, not a Viper's magic wings.

Every time Apollo woke from this dream, he felt like he'd escaped that danger as if it were real. He'd

outrun the volcano, something no man could ever do outside of a dream. And as the frantic, desperate

need to run faded, Apollo would take a deep breath, feeling the sweet, real air filling his lungs, and hold it

for microns. Then let it out, and feel his heart expanding with relief. You made it this time, he'd think. And

then came the joy: You're alive.

The planet was Kobol. And the destruction was real. Iblis meant to make Hades real and take his

revenge; out of their hope for the future, he'd trapped them all. But this one time, they were all dreaming

together in that potential moment of complete destruction; the Cylons were blasted into oblivion, and

victory had been snatched in the last moments of desperate struggle.

The Light Ship had risen from Kobol's ashes like a phoenix. But the dream remained; the nightmare was

over. Apollo was running; they were all running, because they were men and women, not immortal birds

or beings of light. Their ships were made of metal worked by their own hands.

They were free, because their hearts had led them to this place. And the same as Apollo felt free when

he woke from that dream, the survivors of the Battle of Kobol gathered on the bridge of theGalactica in

freedom and celebration.

A real battle, the greatest they had ever fought. Part of it was won in a dream. Because Apollo reached

out, and found he was not alone. Athena was there, and like a miracle, she heard the coordinates that led

the fleet free.

It was beyond any one man's thoughts; maybe this dream was the way that Apollo could make sense of

it. Not all of time and space, but just one planet. Not every human who ever lived, but just him. Just his

feet, carrying him as fast as he could go.

But they were all safe.

In that moment.

"To Apollo!" Tigh cried, raising a glass of ambrosa, his dark eyes shining.

Apollo shook his head. They were celebrating! Escape—victory! He wasn't in his quarters, and he

wasn't on Kobol, and he wasn't…

"I'm back now," he told everyone.

The glory of victory still shone like the Light Ship, but there were spots of darkness in it still. They had

lost so much. There were faces that should have been around that table that would never be seen again.

One face, one heroic soul—maybe he sat there in spirit, Apollo thought. Cain. You ran fast because

someone helped you, Apollo thought. Someone who gave his life and his battlestar, and all of the others

on thePegasus . Cain, never thinking twice, rammed thePegasus straight down the Cylons' throats.

That was a meal that Iblis' had never planned on eating; and maybe Cain had bought them all time and

bought them all a real chance at a future.

"I'm running," Apollo said.

"What?" Starbuck asked, taking Apollo's arm. "Have a drink! Are you crazier than you look? We did

it!"

Apollo shook his head. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was lucky. He hadn't outrun the danger;

somebody else had taken it for him. Cain. Nothing comes without a price, Apollo thought. But the truth

was, he thought as he looked over at Athena, her hair and face shining in joy, neither he nor Athena had

really paid the price.

But nobody else thought that. The joy was real. The love was real. Suddenly, Apollo felt his eyes

stinging. There was Bojay, telling a joke, then Sheba running toward him, grabbing his waist and

whispering something in his ear. The look on Bojay's face was worth surviving the battle.

"Now we can go on!" Tigh cried, raising his glass again.

We can go faster, Apollo thought. But as Starbuck said, you got what you paid for. And what a price it

had been. Kobol lost. Cain and thePegasus : gone. But thanks to what they had found on Kobol, they

had learned to use the QSE technology and they knew that their journey had hope. They knew where to

go. They could outrun the devastation. His feet were still moving. They were all running together.

You're not alone, Apollo. You're the least lonely man who ever lived, he told himself.

Nobody ever had better friends, he thought. Tigh was even starting to sing. If that wasn't joy, Apollo

didn't know what was. Starbuck grabbed Apollo's shoulder.

"We're free," Starbuck said. He moved his furaarello to the other side of his mouth.

Apollo looked into his friend's face and thought, "You'll never know the nightmares I have, buddy," but

what he said was, "Yeah. We did!" Then he put his arm around Starbuck's shoulder and they both began

to grin and then laugh.

"Wait! Wait!" Tigh said, interrupting his song. Suddenly Tigh's expression changed. His eyes grew

serious, and he waved his arms to get everyone's attention.

Apollo saw Cassi in a brief flash, her lovely eyes focused on Tigh. Athena joined in, moving close to

Tigh, and linking her arm with his. She gestured toward Sheba and Bojay with her free hand. Bojay

looked confused, but Apollo saw that Sheba realized what Tigh and Athena meant to do, and who they

didn't want to forget.

Tigh raised his glass. "We can't forget," he said. "To Cain!"

The uproar faded. Sheba drew her hand through her hair, and the wild joy that had been on her face

faded. Apollo saw a flash of Cain in her feminine features; she wouldn't cry—not Sheba. But she reached

up and snatched Tigh's glass from his hand with her warrior-quick reflexes.

Then in a flash, she turned, hurling it across the room, where it crashed at Dalton's and Troy's feet.

Dalton's eyes went wide, and then she turned to Troy and laughed out loud, kicking at the shards of

glass.

"To my father!" Sheba cried.

"To Cain! Cain!" everyone cried.

No matter how they cheered, they could never bring him back, Apollo thought.

But he raised his glass, too. "He did not die in vain," Apollo said.

"We're free!" Starbuck cried.

And the uproar began again. Sheba, her face a mixture of grief and pride. Bojay, grinning, amazed at his

luck that Sheba had chosenhim . Apollo saw her look at him for the briefest moment, but he didn't

understand the expression on her face. Starbuck, looking at Athena like she was more desirable than vast

stacks of cubits. Cassi, her hair shining, face full of wonder and joy. Apollo saw the strangest, most

fleeting look of worry darken her soft features, but he thought, she's just remembering Cain; they were

very close. Troy, hugging Dalton, then lifting her into the air as she laughed. Trays, knocking back

something dangerous-looking in a narrow flask, reaching for a fumarello sticking out of Boomer's pocket.

Boomer, slapping Trays' hand away with an ominous expression on his face.

You're the luckiest man in the world, Apollo thought. These are the best people in the world. The Lords

let you survive. They gave you a…

The lights flickered.

Then, for a micron, they went out. When they came again, they were dim.

Boomer's voice was loud enough under normal circumstances, but everyone stood in confused silence,

so his voice echoed when he said, "That's not right."

Apollo turned instantly to theGalactica's readout banks. And everything shrank to a pinpoint.

"That can't be," he said.

"What in Hades?" Starbuck said, leaning over.

Soon, Tigh and Athena were there. "Every Tylium reactor in the fleet," Tigh said slowly.

After a micron, Athena said the word they were all thinking. "Dead," she said.

"No fracking way," Starbuck said. But his eyes were wide with alarm and disbelief.

How are you going to outrun anything now, Apollo thought, even as he sprang into action.

Tylium ran the engines that moved the fleet across and through and beyond the stars, the life support that

let them breathe and thrive, and it powered the matter rearranges that fed and clothed them all. The fleet

was already pushed beyond its limits—food, manpower, fuel—the Tylium was their last source of

renewal. And all the celebrating aside, Apollo knew that they had to regroup and renew food, supplies,

material—every single thing after they'd foiled Iblis' plans and escaped the destruction of Kobol.

"Engineering! Get those Tylium reactors back online! Do itnow !"

Athena touched his shoulder. "Look out the forward port. See for yourself."

He looked up and to his left, saw the majestic and imposing spacescape before them. His lips moved.

He looked back at Athena. Her eyes were narrow. Everyone began to gather around.

The stars were gone. Space wasn't black. It was white and… well, almost like milk. "Where in the halls

of Hades are we?" Apollo asked.

Athena couldn't answer. Nobody could.

Whatever it was, it had caught Apollo's heels. It had cut off his legs! They'd faced down the Cylon and

Chitain fleets. They'd escaped the destruction of Kobol; Iblis hadn't won. They had the QSE technology.

The Light Beings had shown them the way. There was hope.

But where were they?

The milky stuff before them looked like clouds of space dust, debris, and primordial plasm. Apollo

realized that they were completely dead in this… whatever it was. Some unknown force had stolen their

inertia; at the same time it had stopped the Tylium fire that drove the fleet's engines.

If it had not, the fleet would have foundered in the clouds exactly the way a fleet of wooden sailing ships

might founder on an unexpected shoal of rocks at sea.

The audio comm crackled.

"Bridge, this is maintenance. I'm in theGalactica's main Tylium reactor—it's stone cold dead, Apollo.

The reactors haven't shut down, or even failed in any ordinary sense: The Tylium reaction has just

stopped ."

"We'll be right down," he said, his heart pounding. He looked over at Starbuck—he didn't have to ask

to have Starbuck follow.

Athena and Tigh remained on the bridge to calm the others and keep watch over the fleet. Before they

left, Athena turned and said, "Daedalustoo." Everything in the fleet. Wherever they were, they were all

dead together.

The power core aboard theGalactica is a series of subdivided chambers, arranged in a chain so that

they can only be accessed in sequence. This is mostly a function of security design: It would be

unfortunate to have civilians—or even inappropriate engineering staff—wander into the control terminal

array, much less the power cabling clusters. And stars forefend anyone accidentally finding themselves in

the Tylium reactor bays: Tylium is a safe, clean fuel, producing no excesses of radiation, but all the same

the raw gigajoules of energy that course through a Tylium reactor are enough to vaporize anyone unwary

enough to stick a finger into the wrong socket.

Under ordinary circumstances, getting to the ultimate door that opens onto the Tylium reactor bays can

take half a centar, or more. The doors are set to give long and interesting safety lectures to one and all

before opening—command personnel not excepted.

The chief engineers can bypass the threshold homily in the event of a serious emergency, but doing so

causes a shrill alarm to sound on the bridge.

All of that because the Tylium reactors run mostly without servicing; they have no moving parts and

rarely need the attention of an engineer. The reactor bays are designed specifically to discourage

unnecessary access.

And that is why, when Apollo reached the ultimate door in engineering and found it propped open by a

chair, he couldn't believe it.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

Starbuck, at Apollo's side, went more directly to the point. "Are you people trying to kill yourselves? Or

set off a chain reaction?"

The senior engineer, Nilsen, snorted at him.

"Not a chance, Starbuck," he said. He was kneeling beside the reactor. He had the shielded and

armored door open, and was looking into the reaction chamber—the chamber that should have been

siphoning the raw light and force of the Tylium's controlled explosion down into energy transducers that

powered theGalactica —its engines, its life support, everything aboard the ship came ultimately from

Tylium.

"See for yourself. It's gone cold. No reaction. It's almost as though something's transmuted the Tylium

into lead."

"'Transmuted'?" Starbuck asked. "Alchemy? Be serious."

Nilsen shrugged. "I'm no scientist," he said. "Just an engineer. I'm not the one to explain it, but I can tell

you what's happening: not a damn thing." He reached in and tapped the Tylium sphere with his thumb.

"Stone cold—the transducers have siphoned them down to room temperature. We're in a universe of

trouble."

He chuckled at the little joke he'd made—strictly speaking, the place between a starship's jump

coordinateswas another universe—think of it as anUr universe, a river under time. In most contexts it's

irrelevant, and little thought of. For the most part, a starship will spend only a few nano-microns at a time

in that place between jumps.

Nilsen was still laughing.

"It's not funny," said a familiar voice—it was Lorrins, the physicist, standing in the doorway. "This can't

happen. If there's Tylium in there, the reaction should still be hot, even with the door open. I'd close that

door if I were you. If it can stop for no reason, it can start for no reason, too."

Apollo closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He reached into his heart, and deeper than that, into the

commanding light of the universe that guided him and his family in moments that made demands upon

them.

Something .. .someone . . .who ?

"Tell me more," Apollo said. "I need to know everything—consequences, prospects, options. We're still

in subspace, right? Transitioning between our former coordinates and our destination? Can we get out

without Tylium power?"

The engineer shook his head.

"Not a chance. We're going to have a hard time with life support in a few centons if I don't switch us

over to battery reserve power we'd used to maintain orbit in drydock."

Starbuck chimed in. "Who cares if we can't breathe! If we can't move…"

Apollo had to smile, even in the crisis. Starbuck… who needed to breathe as long as you could fly?

Nilsen blinked. He was as scared as anyone else. "If we can't get the reactors working, well, we could

die here," he said.

Lorrins, the physicist, didn't contradict him.

Something from that sense of the universe and time and space told Apollo that the engineer was right.

They wouldn't be able to fix the Tylium reactors in this place. The fleet was falling apart. The civilian ships

had already been pushed to the edge and beyond; most of them were nearly out of fuel.

He reached deeper into his intuition. There, that was the insight, the image of a countenance shrouded in

a chiaroscuro of the soul.Baltar !

Was this Baltar's doing? Some evil scheme he'd put into play, a plot only now come to fruition?

No. This is no plot. It is Baltar who can lead us through this wilderness.

And that was the most amazing thing—not just the impossibility of the moment that had come upon

them, not just the broken shape and nature of an unknown place in the universe that could puzzle a

brilliant physicist like Lorrins. What was amazing was the whole notion that a blackguard like Baltar

could lead them from this disaster.

"Get me options," Apollo said. He was starting for the door, his feet on the move, running again—half in

a dream and half out—heading for a place he did not yet fully and consciously realize.

"Switch over to reserve power. Then get me an understanding of what's gone wrong, and what we can

do about it."

It was an order issued more for the benefit of the crew than it was for Apollo himself. He already knew

their circumstance in his heart: It was his family's gift to come to communion with the infinite. His father,

Adama, possessed that gift, and his grandfather before him; it ran through generations of grandfathers

back into the dawn of memory.

And now that gift, in this place beyond anything they'd ever known, was coming to full flower in Apollo.

In that moment, Apollo knew in his heart where they were and why they were there. There was no safe,

easy way out of this situation. In their moment of victory, bought at such great cost, they had all been

thrown into something much worse.

And in his heart, though he never could have voiced it, in his heart he knew with a foreboding that passes

certainty that there was a revolution coming. He had the sense that people had been pushed beyond their

endurance, and it wasn't a situation where speeches or pretty words would help. People would die. The

thin shred of hope that they'd somehow made it safe beyond the Cylon menace was all totally changed.

And… Baltar! Baltar, the answer? How could it be?

"Come with me, Starbuck," he said. "We need to find Athena and pay a visit to an old… friend."

Starbuck looked quizzically up at Apollo. "Who?" he asked. "Apollo, do you really think now is the time

for visiting?" Apollo's stern expression told him that he'd better follow, and there'd be time for questions

and answers later.

They met Athena in the hall outside engineering. Apollo was still in his haze, moving at the direction of

things unknowable, unthinkable, powerful, and strange. He saw her and he said, "Athena, come," and she

looked at him like he was out of his mind. "Come with us to see Baltar," he said.

She said angry words he did not hear.

"We must get Lorrins, too," Apollo said. "This is a matter that he can help interpret."

Frowning, Athena fell in behind Starbuck, and after they retrieved a confused Lorrins, they went

together to the brig.

* * *

"Baltar," Apollo told the sentries who stood watch outside the brig. "We've come for him."

That was not a command they would obey, of course. It could not be. Baltar was only too capable of

creating an illusion in the mind of a jailer, and therefore there were deep hypnotic controls on all the brig

sentries.

The sentries stood impassive, awaiting the codes that would trigger the posthypnotic suggestion to obey.

Athena sighed impatiently, gave the high sign with her left fist, and said the seven secret words and

syllables that would give them passage.

All the sentries stood down, and let them pass. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Apollo meant to

thank her. But it was not clear to him whether he said the words or not.

At the far end of the corridor was Baltar's cell; the force screen that sealed its doorway admitted Apollo,

Starbuck, Athena and the physicist Lorrins automatically. Baltar was sitting in a chair that faced out his

window, watching theUr clouds and energy vortexes that surrounded them with a quiet fascination.

"Apollo, Starbuck, Athena," he said, "I've been expecting you."

Starbuck swore an oath under his breath. Athena pushed past Apollo in high dudgeon. "This is your

doing, isn't it,, Baltar? Gods help you, you old fool, you're going to rue the sectare…"

Starbuck cut her off. "She's right, isn't she, Baltar? You're the one who's trapped us here, the engine,

you—and it's you who's put Apollo into this fugue, isn't it?"

"I'm going to kill him, don't try to stop me."

And then Apollo spoke.

"Starbuck, no," he said. "Baltar isn't why we're here. He could be our way out."

Baltar grinned up at them. Something about his expression changed the very feeling in the room. They all

sensed it. Apollo gasped, and shuddered, and fell out of his trance entirely.

"What?" he was breathless, trying not to fall to his knees. Something deep in his soul ached with dread,

but much of the vision, much of what he'dknown during the vision, had already begun to fade.

"Terrible things coming," he said aloud, trying to force the dream—memory of the vision to take root in

his conscious mind.

Starbuck shook his head, confused to see Apollo's condition. He wondered if it was some kind of

joke—maybe something Baltar was trying to pull. But Baltar was a prisoner and they were all there at

Apollo's side. He grinned as he helped Apollo to his feet. "Like hell," he said. "The old villain's playing

mind tricks on you, Apollo. Don't let him rattle you. He knows theGalactica and the rest of the fleet are

in trouble, and he's trying to make use of it."

Baltar straightened his shoulders, staring hard at Starbuck and Athena. There was fear in his old eyes,

but only a little. "You're wrong," he said. "You could not be more wrong."

Apollo was breathing steadily now, almost fully recovered. Starbuck grabbed Baltar's collar, his other

fist drawn back to strike.

Apollo jumped forward. "No, Starbuck," he said. "The two of you, listen. Baltar's right this time—that

was a true seeing, maybe the most profound vision I've had in my life, in fact. And it is true: Baltar is the

key to the pit we've fallen into—and it's a deeper pit can you can imagine. We've never been in this sort

of trouble before, not even when we watched Kobol implode and faced the total destruction of the fleet.

More than our mission, it's the very nature of the universe that's at stake. Without the Tylium reactors,

we've got no hope of going on. We have had a terrible, terrible accident, and if we don't extract

ourselves very carefully, reality as we know it may collapse. Chaos will follow."

Starbuck rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about, Apollo? You sound to me like a man who's had

too much ale."

But Athena… Athena was staring at Apollo like maybe she had a sense of it, too—just the slightest

sense. "What did you see?" she asked. "Where are we, Apollo?"

He nodded at Baltar. "Tell us, Baltar," he said. "Tell us what the hell is going on."

Baltar looked away uneasily.

"Your sister will want to accuse me of this," he said. "That may be fair. But it is not true. The possibility

of this is a legend in Cylon lore—they bragged about being able to travel beyond the universe that we

understand. I have never heard of it as a reality, never."

Starbuck grabbed him by the collar again. "What did you do, you Muskvynian ferret?"

Baltar grasped Starbuck's hand and carefully, firmly pried his fingers from his collar. "We had to get

away. I helped theGalactica implement Chitain-Cylon wormhole technology, you immature hothead," he

said. "I can't pretend I know exactly how it worked, but in that last moment of the battle, I knew that

Apollo would access those coordinates. And if you want my help dealing with this disaster you will kindly

stop manhandling me."

Apollo had a hand on Starbuck's shoulder. "Enough, old friend," he said, calming Starbuck's rage,

buying time for Baltar to speak.

For a moment the cell was eerily silent. Baltar finally broke the spell.

"You sound like your father, Apollo," Baltar said. "For a moment I thought I'd heard his voice when you

were speaking."

Athena was seldom nervous, but she gave a nervous laugh.

"I heard it, too," she said. "Is it possible… ?"

Apollo smiled at his sister. "Of course it's possible," he said, "but that was me, not Father. I grow more

like him as I age."

"You do, Apollo," said Baltar. "It's unsettling."

Apollo smiled. "I'm sure it must be. Now tell me, old friend, and old foe, what do you know? Why did

my vision point me in your direction in this moment of need?"

Baltar frowned.

"When a ship passes through a jump point," he said, "it passes momentarily through some… other place.

AnUr place, not of our universe. The physics are complicated, and in practical terms at the moment not

of particular consequence. From the point of view of the command and crew of a starship, one moment

we arehere; the next we arethere .

"But strictly speaking, that's not the case. There is a mathematically complicated transition betweenhere

andthere; adjustments in context that have to do with time and space and velocity."

At that moment, Lorrins interrupted. "Yes!" he cried. "I've heard of this. When we captured some of the

Cylon databanks, I reviewed this. Baltar's right; it seemed like bragging to me. But they told about a

place like this, anUr universe that existed outside the normal confines of time and space. I couldn't tell if

they truly knew that it existed, or were merely theorizing."

"It's real," Baltar said. "Look! See for yourself." he gestured at the window behind him. "This is what it

does look like."

Starbuck groaned, shaking his head. Baltar ignored him. "The Cylons believed that every moment that

ships and creatures from the universe that we know spent in this place threatened the universe without,"

Baltar said. "I don't pretend to understand the theory, but it was a place that upset even the order that

their twisted minds could understand. They called this a place where patterns reflect on our world, a time

under time where a ripple in the current of space flux can shape vast destinies in the material universe.

Think of it as undertime, the one ultimately causal place in a causal universe."

"That's ridiculous," Starbuck said.

Dr. Lorrins, excited again, interrupted. "Starbuck, listen," he said, "Imagine for a moment that you went

back in time and murdered your mother. Would you suddenly cease to exist? No; the universe doesn't

keep tabs. You would exist in a loop of time, and forward from that loop. That's causality. It's the reason

space and time are always in flux. Ultimately, we live in a universe where causes do and do not obtain.

Some things we see simply are as they are, and the things that brought them into being may never have

happened."

"I don't get it," Starbuck said. "There are always reasons that things happen."

"Oh, there usually are, I'll grant you that," Baltar said, leaning forward and running his hand through his

still-dark hair. "But always? I think not. Have you ever used a starship to travel back into the ultimate

moment of creation? Have you seen the ranks of thousands who've traveled there to bear witness? To

see the unseen hand? I have gone a dozen times, Starbuck. I can tell you that there was no hand to see;

for all that I can observe there may've been no Maker, for the big bang appeared to set itself into motion,

entirely. But I can also tell you that that moment was deliberate, and carefully considered. The slightest

changes in any aspect of it in the least way would have made a universe where no life was possible,

where breath would not avail and the chemicals that let us live could not react with one another. The

Maker made our universe with love, and consideration for our lives—he made the world to save us all,

and ensure our posterity.

"But I have gone to watch him, and I have seen no hand of God, my friends," Baltar said, his face lined

with exhaustion and eyes dark and knowing.

"You lie, old man," Starbuck growled. But even Starbuck could hear in his own voice how wrong he

was. Even Dr. Lorrins had stood back, no longer excited to talk about the physics, and watched Baltar in

wonder and fear.

Apollo's hand found Athena's.

"This place… this place is the tabulation underneath the unaccountable, uncountable universe," Baltar

said. "If it were safe and I could travel here maliciously and with forethought, how I would love to watch

creation from this vantage! But it must not be. This is where the flotsam and jetsam of the universe truly

exist; if you cease to exist here, you do cease. It is like a living metaphor, in its way: in the universe

Battlestar Galactica 04 - Rebellion

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