ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS

PART TWO

After Adama had departed to return to the Galactica, Aeneas contacted his executive officer, Colonel Akamas, and ordered him to begin preparations for the mission. Then he switched over to Communications.
“My lord?” the tech on duty queried.
“Set up a secure hyperchannel to Sagitara, scrambled and encoded.”
“Aye sir…ready, my lord. Number?” he inquired
“TI-542-432-10A.”
“Going through now, my lord.”
“Thank you.”
In a micron or two the face of the young technician was replaced by that of Diomedes. “News, Aeneas?” Diomedes inquired.
“We’re going in, sir.”
“After your theorized base?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. Don’t provoke anything,” Diomedes warned. “On the very off chance that this may be for real.”
“Commander Adama’s orders,” Aeneas confirmed.
“Not, mind you, that I believe this sudden Cylon desire for negotiations has anything to do with peace,” Diomedes continued. “The incidence of sabotage has increased dramatically since the beginning of these talks, not to mention the occurrence of supposedly spontaneous peace protests.”
“Sabotage, my lord?”
“All over the Colonies,” Diomedes confirmed. “Last night the defense computers on Aeries went down, the entire system. Supposedly that’s impossible. No one knows why or how, but someone must have broken into the system. They’re making changes now, but if it could be done once, it can be done again. Things are somewhat calmer here, although I have been replaced on the Council by a member of the Peace Party.”
Aeneas was stunned. “There’s a Sagitaran branch of the Peace Party?”
“Hades, Aeneas, there’s a Scorpian branch. Idiocy has nothing to do with tribal affiliation; it’s universal. The leader of the new Sagitaran Peace Party, and our new Council member, is my son-in-law.”
“Aleksandros?”
“He saw his chance and took it. He’s a good politician if nothing else. The fact that he’s my son-in-law helped, of course. I should never have been lured into arranging that sealing; it’s a stupid and obsolete custom. But I don’t think he professes membership in the Peace Party falsely. He seems to genuinely believe their nonsense.”
“Evidently a lot of people do,” Aeneas muttered, disillusioned.
“No one in their right mind wants war,” said Diomedes. “We can’t forget the civilian viewpoint that sees this war as having dragged on far too long. They’re right, of course, but political considerations have kept us from winning the war several times…especially since the only way to truly win would be genocide of the Cylons.”
“The Cylons are machines.”
“Many people don’t see it that way. Why, I have no idea. Shouldn’t matter either way. When it comes to us or them, I pick us, every time.” Diomedes shook his head.
“My lord, you should not have resigned,” Aeneas said, rashly.
“Honor dictated that I must. I will not sit on a body dedicated to blindly making false peace with the deadly enemies of the human race. You will not have heard of this, but I will tell you now, my friend. Some fifty yahrens ago, we sent envoys to the Cylons, at a time when we were winning the war, to offer peace. They were sent back without their heads, with a message written in their own blood. I was there to witness, as were Adama, Kronus, and Cain, and we read that message. The Cylons swore not to end the war until every human was either dead or enslaved. They have not changed their tune since. After all, how can they? The Cylons are machines. They do what they have been programmed to do.”
“Yes, but who’s doing the programming?” Aeneas wondered aloud.
Diomedes smiled. “A question I would give much to have answered.”
“How long do we have, my lord?”
“We could have a very long time, Aeneas. These negotiations are dragging out interminably already. I suspect the Cylons need more time for whatever it is they intend.”
“What do you think they have planned?”
“I’m not sure. Possibly what they intend to do is sign a treaty with us, lull us into reducing our defenses and watchfulness, and then strike. They could win. If they attacked now we’ve have trouble beating them off, and if things were to get worse….”
“My lord, the Cylons are not known for patience. Perhaps they plan something more immediate.”
“You’re worried about an attack on our home planets?”
“More this sabotage you mention. They must be behind it. If I could ask a favor of you….”
“Anything, Aeneas.”
“If anything were to happen, Tiryns is the best defended city on Sagitara. If there is room for my wife, and my son….”
“Send them. There’s always room and it’s been lonely around here of late. In return, there’s a favor you can do for me. Watch out for my daughters.” They were both pilots aboard the Columbia.
“As best I can, my lord, but they make it difficult.”
Diomedes smiled. “Go carefully, and bring back the information we need.”
“I will do my best, my lord.”
“Success, Aeneas,” Diomedes concluded and signed off, leaving Aeneas staring pensively at the blank gray screen.

Captain Apollo was on his way to his quarters from the briefing room when he heard rapid footsteps coming up behind him. He turned expectantly as Starbuck caught up with him.
“What’s this about a special mission?” Starbuck wanted to know.
Not for the first time, Apollo wondered how supposedly secure information traveled so fast and so far aboard the Galactica. His father’s shuttle hadn’t landed back from the Columbia twenty centons ago, and he was certain that Adama hadn’t told anyone outside of those he had just briefed of his intentions. Anyone other than Athena…he’d have to make a note of that.
“It’s not a special mission,” Apollo said. “Blue squadron is being assigned temporarily to the Columbia, that’s all.”
“That must mean something’s going on,” Starbuck persisted.
“If something is, I couldn’t tell you anyway.”
“You sure about that?”
“Afraid so. And, since you’re with Red squadron for the centon, you don’t have to worry about it anyway. Or are you upset because you’re not going?”
“No, of course not. I just wondered. I can live without going aboard the Columbia, thanks. We all know what those Sagitarans are like, right?”
“We do? No, don’t explain, I know what you’re talking about.” Sagitarans were completely unbothered by sexual preference issues; some tribes refused to understand their attitude. “Look, I have to go.”
“Yeah, well, remember what I said. Don’t let yourself get involved with any of those Sagitaran females; they’ll have your emotions for lunch and dump you out the refuse tube.”
“Starbuck’s advice to the lovelorn. I’ll keep it in mind.” Apollo smiled, shook his head, turned to go. Starbuck stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Seriously…take care of yourself, Apollo.”
Apollo nodded. “And you be here when I get back. And do me a favor.”
“Sure thing, what?”
“Have that hundred you owe me.”
“Asking me to take care of myself is one thing—now you’re asking for miracles!”

BACK TO PART ONE

ON TO PART THREE

BACK TO FICTION CONTENTS