THE SCHOOL OF FEAR

CHAPTER 7

“Well, they did a good job cleaning it up,” Rhiannon said as she led Ares out of Columbia Jr’s airlock onto their home battlestar’s hangar deck. It was the first time they’d been in the scout since the incident, having just flown it back from the Galactica.
“Yeah, and I heard a lot of griping about it too. One of the ground crew wanted to know why we didn’t strangle those goons instead of carving them,” Ares said as they started across the hangar.
“I shan’t mention that to Leah.”
“How is she?”
“Better now; it hit her rather hard. Navigators don’t normally go around killing people. That’s our job.” She added, “I keep wondering if it shouldn’t bother me more.”
“Would you rather have been raped?”
“Of course not.”
“That would seem to answer your question. I can’t quite see Leah at Ground Forces School, though,” he added. “What did you do between terms?”
“I went to Mountaineering School. You?”
“I goofed off a lot.” Arriving at a lift, he pressed the button to summon one and as they waited asked, “Do you know if we’re going to get to go down to the planet?”
“I’ve already heard a horrid rumor about that.”
“Oh?”
“I hear we’re going to be sent back with dispatches as soon as Aeneas meets with Cain.”
“You are kidding, right?” Ares asked as the lift arrived and they got in.
“Would I make something that stupid up?”
“Good point.”

Miriam did not look in the mirror to check her appearance in dress uniform. As far as she was concerned it did not suit anyone as short as she was. Noday, on the other hand...she turned to watch Noday finish fastening her cape. She had the height, and the figure, to set off the uniform.
“I have a minor inferiority complex about the way you look in that outfit,” Miriam told her.
“Miriam,” Noday admonished, “you look fine.”
This time Miriam did refer to the mirror set in the closet door. “I look short. And dumpy.”
“Neither, neither...here....” Noday adjusted her cape so it draped properly, brushed off the insignia, then reached past her and into the closet. “Gun?” she offered.
Miriam studied the holstered weapon dangling from Noday’s grasp, the wear of many yahrens evident on its grips. “I’m tempted, but do you think our hosts would approve?”
“Of course....not, but I don’t care.” Noday put the weapon back and came out with a much smaller version. “This one?”
Miriam capitulated and permitted Noday to fasten it to her belt at the small of her back where it would be concealed by her cape. “I feel a little odd, wearing a sidearm to a reception.”
“It....makes me feel better, and Athena insisted.”
“You two are even less trusting than I.”
“That’s our job. We like you.” Noday studied her momentarily, then asked, “You are up to this, Miri?”
“I think I can keep my emotions under control.” As they went out through the day cabin, Miriam’s eyes were momentarily drawn to the portrait of Hector. I am going to find out what happened to you, cousin, she promised silently, and someday I intend to do something about it.

Gamoray had been the capital of the Delphian Empire, until the Cylons had arrived and destroyed the Delphians. Now it was home to the survivors of the Fifth Fleet. As the four warships of the Third Fleet entered Gamoray orbit, they found waiting for them the Pegasus, heavily repaired and rebuilt, but still recognizably a Colonial battlestar. And she was still equipped with vipers—vipers somewhat modified over the yahrens but still recognizably vipers, moving up to escort the shuttles carrying Aeneas and those he had selected to accompany him to the historic first meeting with Cain. When they landed at Gamoray’s spacedrome, the warriors who formed an honor guard to greet them were dressed recognizably as Colonial warriors. But, Aeneas thought as he passed down the double line of tall young men in familiar uniforms, I am no longer inclined to take appearances at face value.
The spacedrome was busy. Cargo ships, most of them looking like adaptations of standard Cylon or Delphian designs, were coming and going in a steady stream. At one corner of the area several warships were parked, frigates and destroyers, again of modified Cylon and Delphian design. Aeneas knew that Gamoray had always had a small population. The Delphians had been a race that had reproduced slowly, and at their height only about fifteen to twenty million Delphians were believed to have inhabited the planet, with some twenty to thirty million more elsewhere on neighboring systems they had settled. They had heavily roboticized their industry to make up for the dearth of living workers; the Cylons and later Cain must have inherited much of Gamoray’s industrial base intact to have built up the civil and military fleet that was evident from the ships visible here and in orbit. Initial scans had suggested a human population of around fifteen thousand. Assuming that most of the Pegasus’ crew of five thousand had survived, plus possibly a few others from the rest of the Fifth Fleet, such a figure was not impossible, though Cain’s crew had been only 1/3 female, lower than the usual Fleet norm. Aeneas ran some quick math in his head and realized that every woman aboard the Pegasus must have produced an average of six children each to yield such a figure.
A youngish man wearing Colonial Fleet dark blue was waiting at the end of the honor guard. He was not particularly tall, but was blond, blue-eyed, and fair like most Scorpians. Offering Aeneas his hand, he said, “Welcome to Gamoray, sir. I’m Colonel Tyr, Commander Cain’s aide. This way, sir.”
He led the party to a series of ground cars, again adaptations from Delphian designs. Each car rode on six wheels and seemed to be fuel-cell powered; they could carry four passengers in a compartment separated from the driver by a sheet of clear plastic. Colonel Tyr joined Aeneas, Apollo, and Omega in the lead vehicle. Tyr did not prove to be talkative, and after a few tries the Colonials ceased attempting to elicit even the most innocuous information from him and turned their attention instead to their surroundings. The six-lane road leading from the spacedrome was busy with traffic, most of it large cargo-hauling vehicles coming and going with loads for transport off-world or goods just brought in. As was usual, the vehicles were of Cylon and Delphian origin, modified somewhat for the convenience and comfort of human drivers.
Their hopes to see Gamoray’s capital, which was visible in the distance from the spacedrome, were dashed when instead of making for it their convoy of vehicles took another road that led out into the countryside beyond the spacedrome, rolling hills covered by overgrown, long-abandoned fields. They passed through a small Delphian town not far from the spacedrome, which had been blasted by the Cylons and left alone since, its ruins mostly overgrown by weeds.
It had been late afternoon Gamoray time when they had landed; now, with the sun touching the horizon, the ground cars pulled off the road and through a gate. Behind a stone wall thickly grown over by some native vine was a villa, surrounded by landscaping still recognizably Delphian. The Delphians had loved to train certain species of indigenous trees to grow almost into sculptures, and scattered across the grounds were several grotesque examples. The house itself was large, architecturally nondescript, built of wood and stone predominantly on one level around a large, open court.
Colonel Tyr led them into the house. No guards were visible, though as they passed through the house they noticed a few men in uniform moving about on various errands. The small portion of the house they saw had been refurnished in Colonial style, since Delphian furniture was anatomically uncomfortable for humans, but Delphian wall hangings and artwork were present. Some were damaged, by fire or flying shrapnel, and must have been brought from elsewhere, from buildings damaged in the Cylon attack.
In the growing twilight, the large central courtyard was lit by dozens of tiny lamps suspended overhead from a network of wires woven into a decorative pattern. A few of the strangely contorted trees cast odd shadows across tables laden with food and drink. Men in uniform circulated about, making certain everything was ready. Colonel Tyr informed Aeneas, “Commander Cain should be here in a centon.”
“I’m here now,” a familiar voice announced behind them. As they turned, Cain continued, “Aeneas, you old war-daggit. How are you?”
Moved in spite of his suspicions and worries, Aeneas replied, “Well enough, Commander. You look healthy.” Certainly Cain’s grip on his arm was strong enough.
“Never better!” Cain declared, looking over the group standing around the Fleet Commander. “Introduce me to these fine warriors.”
“Certainly,” Aeneas said as they lined up as if for Cain’s inspection. “Colonel Polydorus, my aide,” he said, indicating Omega and using his proper name. “Commander Akamas of the Columbia. Commander Apollo of the Galactica....”
Cain squinted at Apollo. “You’re Adama’s son?”
“I am, sir.”
“You take after him. How is the old war-daggit?”
“He’s well, considering the burden he’s carried since the near-destruction of the Colonies,” Apollo replied.
Cain nodded solemnly. “I imagine so. Is he President?”
“He’s Commander of the Fleet.” No decision had yet been made as to whether to reveal Adama’s presence with the expedition; until then they would say as little as possible. “Diomedes is the President.”
“I see,” Cain said, switching his attention to the next man in line.
“Colonel Xaviar, Commander Apollo’s executive officer,” said Aeneas.
“And as fine a Scorpian as I know,” Cain beamed. “I remember when we served on the Columbia together, Colonel.”
“It was an honor, sir,” Xaviar said, with more honesty than Apollo had ever seen him muster.
“We’ve got some catching up to do.”
Aeneas went on, “This is Serina, a reporter with the InterColony NewsNet.”
“Ah, I remember you well. Welcome to Gamoray,” Cain said affably.
“You’re quite a story, Commander.”
“That I am,” Cain replied unselfconsciously.
“Commander Miriam of the battlecruiser Victory.”
Miriam accepted Cain’s grip, looked him in the eyes and said mildly, “Commander Hector was my brother-in-law.”
“I remember you,” Cain said promptly. “He was a great man. I’m sure you’ll want to hear all about the mission to Molecay.”
“Very much so,” Miriam understated.
“Colonel Noday, her aide...Commander Starbuck of the battlecruiser Triumph, Colonel Boomer, his exec,” Aeneas concluded.
“Well met, friends,” Cain beamed. “Relax, enjoy, and let’s get to know one another better.”
Behind him a number of men wearing uniforms with Pegasus insignia entered the courtyard. Starbuck recognized one, pulled at Apollo’s sleeve, and said, “Apollo, it’s Bojay.”
“Who?”
“Come on, you remember,” Starbuck insisted. “Bojay. He was in Blue Squadron until he transferred to the Pegasus, just before Molecay.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Once reminded Apollo recalled Bojay as being a fairly nondescript young man, competent enough though not outstanding. “Let’s go talk to him.”
Bojay had not aged a great deal since they had last seen him, but his blue uniform suggested greater responsibilities. He recognized the two warriors immediately and smiled. “Apollo and Starbuck, the viper pilots from hell,” he remarked. “How have you been?”
“We’ve had some centons,” said Apollo. “You?”
“Four or five pretty exciting ones,” Bojay said, glancing at their tunic sleeves and seeing the thick silver stripe of commander’s rank. “I’ve come up in the world...not as much as you two. Colonel, viper group commander of the Pegasus.”
“Look,” Apollo said, “we’re all dying to know what happened at Molecay. How’d you survive?”
“I thought we’d had it,” Bojay admitted, “but then Cain pulled the most brilliant tactical move I’ve ever seen. He knew we couldn’t win, so we turned away, picked up what survivors we could from the other ships, and made for the nearest portal. We were cut off from the route home, so we ended up here.”
“Why’d you stay?” Starbuck asked.
“When we got here, the Cylons were occupying this planet. We had to raid them to survive. And then...well, I’d like to say we kicked their astrums out of the system, but we didn’t. They up and left on their own. We figure now that they were so busy fighting you guys they had to concentrate their resources closer to home. So we inherited the whole place. And, one thing and another...well, we decided to stay.”
“Why didn’t you ever contact the Colonies?” Apollo wanted to know.
“We didn’t know how the war was going, or even if the Colonies still existed. In retrospect, the trend of the last few yahrens of the war were pretty clear.”
“It was the nearest-run thing you ever saw,” Starbuck admitted.
“I’ll bet. Anyway, we were pretty busy getting established here...it didn’t really occur to us.”
That seems strange, Starbuck thought, but said, “Looks like you’ve done a good job of it.”
Bojay shrugged. “It’s meant a lot of hard work, but it’s been worth every centon.”
“What happens now?” Apollo asked.
“I guess that’s for Cain to decide,” said Bojay.
Apollo and Starbuck flashed glances at one another, then Starbuck said, “Uh, Bojay, you’re Colonials.”
“Are we?” Bojay asked calmly.
Apollo thought he detected a hint of challenge in the man’s voice, but he couldn’t be certain. With a nod, he indicated Bojay’s clothing. “You’re wearing the uniform,” he pointed out.
“Let’s not get into technicalities. Like I said, it’s up to Cain. Let’s get some food and you can tell me what you’ve been up to. And didn’t I see Boomer and Omega in that line-up?”
“You did. Come on,” said Starbuck, and they headed for the buffet.
Off to one side, underneath one of the strange trees, Miriam nudged Noday and inquired, in the Sagitaran they customarily spoke between themselves, a language guaranteed to be impenetrable to any listening Scorpian, “See anyone you know?”
“No. I knew all of the Pegasus’ navigators, but...hell, Miri, do you realize that you and I and....Serina are the only women here?”
“I did rather notice that. Interesting, isn’t it?”
“Very. Cain seemed ready enough to talk about Hector,” Noday remarked.
“Certainly. We’ll also see how long that lasts. Am I being terribly cynical, Noday?”
“Not....at all. I see that Cain and Colonel Xaviar are in discussion,” Noday added, a nod of her head indicating them. “Xaviar seems to be glaring in our direction.”
“He knows he heads my hit list,” Miriam snapped. “I’m going to get him. No one puts my daughter in the brig unless she damn well deserves it!”

Much later, the party-goers met in Adama’s quarters aboard the Columbia for a debrief. In addition to Adama, Colonel Bryn, Apollo’s second officer, was also there; her presence conveniently required Xaviar to return to the Galactica. As Adama served them all vignon, Aeneas commented, “A most unenlightening evening.”
“Oh, it had its high points,” Starbuck said.
“I’m glad you think so,” Boomer muttered.
Apollo cleared his throat, and when everyone turned to look at him he announced, “I have a confession to make.”
“Is it good?” Starbuck asked hopefully.
“I thought it would help to have some record of the proceedings, so....”
From within her voluminous robes, Serina produced a flat, flexible recording device, a marvel of Colonial technology. It had actually scanned right through the material of her clothing to produce a decent, two-dimensional visual image accompanied by a sound recording.
“Is that thing legal?” Aeneas wanted to know, inspecting it.
“Not particularly. But it has its uses.”
“I imagine so.”
Apollo said, “The reason I’ve asked Colonel Bryn to be here is because she served aboard the Pegasus until just before the Fifth Fleet departed for Molecay. She may see things we wouldn’t. And of course I want you to watch it, Father,” Apollo said, turning to Adama. “You know Cain better than any of us.”
“Sometimes I wonder if anyone could truly claim to know Cain, but go ahead,” said Adama.
Serina fed the data from her recorder into the commconsole on Adama’s desk and they gathered around to watch. “I’ll skip over the boring parts,” Serina said, but they watched much of it closely. For her part, Miriam found it interesting to observe what she’d thought a rather dull gathering from another angle and realize that Serina must have found it just as tedious.
“You’ll notice,” Serina commented over the good-byes that ended the recording, “how adept everyone was at avoiding direct questions on pertinent topics. ’Come on, enjoy the party, we’ll talk later.’ I assume that happened to the rest of you?”
“It sure did,” said Starbuck, and Apollo and Boomer nodded. Bojay had proved as slippery as a new-caught lungfish.
“What do you think, Father?” Apollo asked Adama.
Adama shook his head, half-smiled. “Same old Cain. Same mannerisms, same smile...same ego.”
“Colonel?”
Bryn looked thoughtful. She said, “There were no women there.”
“Believe me, we noticed that,” said Miriam.
“The second officer of the Pegasus was female. Colonel Aisling. She was Aerian...very striking, tall, red hair, green eyes.”
Aeneas nodded. “She served aboard the Rycon for a time; I remember her.”
“She was a first-rate officer, one of the best in the service. Unless she’s dead, where was she? And here’s another one; what about Colonel Tolen, the exec?”
“Is it possible they were both killed at Molecay?” Omega asked.
“It’s possible, but Cain looks singularly undamaged and one of them at least would have been on the bridge. And then there’s Sheba.”
“Who?” asked Noday.
“Cain’s daughter. One of his squadron commanders.”
Akamas suggested, “This was a first meeting...and maybe we shouldn’t go jumping to conclusions.”
“And which conclusions do you believe we’re jumping to, Commander?” Miriam asked him.
“Well, we Sagitarans have a certain...prejudice about the Scorpians. We think they’re misogynistic religionists who’ll revert back to what we believe is their norm at the slightest opportunity.”
“Have you read much Scorpian history?” Noday asked.
“Or Sagitaran history, for that matter,” Miriam added.
Before the unfortunate Akamas could even begin to formulate a reply, Bryn put in, “Maybe as women we take it more seriously than you do, sir. I am no man’s slave, and I am no man’s baby factory, and their religion says that’s exactly what I am...it also claims women do not have souls. I know that Aisling and I were not exactly welcome aboard that ship. Cain was all right—for all his faults I don’t believe the man has a prejudiced bone in his body—but some of the others...they put up with Sheba because they had to, but the other women in the crew were in basically subservient positions, whatever their rank or skill level. I transferred as soon as I could, and Aisling was scheduled to as soon as they got back from Molecay. I don’t know if the Scorpian women took it any better, because frankly I found it hard to talk to them.”
“And,” Miriam pointed out, “Colonel Bryn is not Sagitaran.”
“I’m from Taura,” Bryn agreed.
Adama moved in to smooth things over. “We need more data,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, the tone of command. “Until then I suggest we all stop coming to premature conclusions.”
As the discussion continued on a more civilized level, Serina drew Apollo aside and said, “Apollo, I have an idea. Do you remember we talked about the biography that was written of Cain?”
“When we were on Carillon,” he confirmed. “What about it?”
“If that woman who was his lover is still alive...who could possibly have a clearer view of the man?”

A sinking feeling firmly in place inside her, Rhiannon reported as ordered to the Fleet Commander’s quarters first thing the next morning. Aeneas and Akamas were both there. “My lord,” she greeted the Fleet Commander. “Sir,” she added to Akamas.
“Sit down, little cousin,” Aeneas replied cordially. “We have a mission for you.”
Lowering herself rather gingerly into one of the chairs placed before Aeneas’ desk, she said, “I’d gathered as much, my lord.”
Aeneas got right to the point. “How quickly could you get back to the Colonies?”
Rhiannon wished that Leah were there; she had to think furiously for a centon or two before she replied, “Well, my lord, it depends. There are two routes home, the old one and the one via Kobol, which is marginally faster. Absolute best, we could do it in about two and half sectons, literal, about one secton ship-time, near light-speed between all the portals. But we don’t carry enough fuel to do it non-stop.”
“You’ll have the fuel,” Akamas said. “You’ll refuel halfway. We’re sending a magnetic bottle of antimatter with you.”
They’d have to go EVA to load the antimatter. “I’d like to have a chance to rehearse the procedure, sir.”
“That’s no problem, you don’t leave until the day after tomorrow,” said Aeneas. “Questions?”
Lots, she thought, but lieutenants don’t ask Fleet Commanders anything, even when they are your second cousin on your mother’s side and third cousin on your father’s. “No, my lord.”
“Very good, dismissed.” After she’d gone, Aeneas remarked to Akamas, “She takes after Dirce, don’t you think?”
“No doubt about that, my lord.”

“This is today’s....collection,” Noday said, dumping onto Miriam’s desk a small pile of crystals precariously balanced atop a sheaf of printouts.
“We’re in orbit. How can this much paperwork accumulate in orbit?” Miriam wanted to know. Shuffling quickly through the stack, sorting it into categories, she noted, “Some of this crap is Athena’s. Where is she?”
“Off ship,” Noday said simply.
“‘Off ship?’ On the hull? Drifting aimlessly? Aboard the Galactica?”
“Actually, I believe aboard our....sister vessel.”
“Triumph? What’s she doing there?”
Noday shrugged.
“All right, you’ve got that look, what in hades is going on,” Miriam demanded.
Noday smiled and shrugged again.
“Isn’t he supposed to be sealed?”
“That has never stopped him.”
“Isn’t she supposed to be smarter than that? My God, I seem to recall her telling me...you know, Noday, I swear it would be a lot simpler if we reproduced by fission.”
Noday looked startled. “Miriam! What a thing to say!”
“Well, everyone except you and I, of course. Look, forget I said that...I wanted her to look over these new scans of the planet.”
“Are....they interesting?”
“No they aren’t, and that’s the problem. I think we’re being discreetly jammed.”
“Interesting indeed. Are they....going to permit us to go down to the planet unsupervised?”
“Apparently not. Aeneas asked that Colonel Tyr and he informed him that Cain wants ‘small groups,’ quote unquote. Claims there’s still unexploded Cylon ordnance lying all over.”
“That’s not impossible. We’re still finding stuff on the Colonies. Do you remember that....construction crew that got blown up in Caprica City a few months ago?”
“Of course I do, but that’s not the point. They’re trying to control access to the surface, they’ve got us stuck in this rancid orbit....”
“Geosynchronous.”
“Always over one point on the planet—a point they picked. I find that a little suspicious, Noday.”
“So do I. We just have to be more devious than they are,” Noday counseled.
“Do you have something in mind?”
“Take back the fission comment and I’ll....tell you.”
“You know I take it back.”
“All right. As a former navigator, I have this idea....”

BACK TO CHAPTER 6

ON TO CHAPTER 8

BACK TO FICTION CONTENTS