Glen A. Larson - Battlestar Galactica

FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:

More than a thousand years ago, the war with the Cylons beganabruptlywithout warning, without even a formal declaration that war was to be.Like pirates, showing no threats and cowering beneath false colors, the Cylons opened fire on our merchant ships without even an invocation to heave to, or a cautionary blast from a laser cannon. They came to destroy, and they destroyed our ships by the thousands. A fleet of their warships, base stars as they are sometimes called, headed for the twelve worlds. Arrogant beings that they were, the Cylons did not anticipate that we would be ready for them. We were ready for them and for the next thousand years we continued in battle readiness.

But a thousand years is a long time, even when the duration of some years is compressed by the time twistings of space travel. We forgot the extent of Cylon treachery. Instead, we became slaves to our own myths. We could not be subjugated, we were resourceful people who loved freedom, we welcomed adventure. When the Cylons offered peace just as abruptly as they had initiated hostilities, we had forgotten that they were not to be trusted. We embarked on the peace mission with hope, with the expectation that ten centuries of unceasing warfare would finally be ended. Peaceably we had explored myriaddiverse worlds of the universe, peaceably we had established the system of twelve worlds that became our main colonies, peaceably we would live again. Joy grew in our hearts. Those of us whose lives had been totally committed to the war should have known better, should have perceived that the joy in our hearts had a strategic significance. The more we moved away from the facts that formed the structure of our design, the more we became like the politicians who governed us, men and women who had so clouded their minds with the words of power that they misunderstood the words of the powerful when they smilingly offered peace.

I keep saying that we should have known better. That is the fallacy ofthe democratic instinct. I should have known better. Coping with an alien mindthat was not understandable had always been my special ability. For once it failed me. Afterwards, I vowed it should never fail me again.

The contact sensor implanted in Zacs jumpsuit at mid-back sent waves oftingling impulses up and down his spine. The sensor system detected an anomaly in this sector of space; its mild pulsing stings notified Zac to check it out. Excited anticipation joined the induced impulses as he keyed in the automatic search and watched data, both in numbered and diagram form, accumulate on his scanner screen. When he had first returned to the battlestar Galactica as a green ensign grown overconfident with the informational input of space-academy training, Zac had been counseled by his father. Commander Adama, not to become too excited about the war or anything connected with it. The war had been going on for a thousand years, Adama had said, no need to welcome it as if it were your best friend. However, Zac had never been able to lose the thrill of zooming through space in his very own sleek-lined fighter plane and blasting Cylon craft into pieces of infinity. Now that he was a lieutenant, at 23 years old way past his majority, he still felt the same eagerness for battle he had known on his first launch from the Galacticas spacedeck.

His scanner now displayed the flaw that the warning system had located. Two unidentified aerial devices hanging near an old moon,called Cimtar on the star map, that orbited around the decaying orbit of the single planet of this out-of-the-way, never inhabited solar system. A perfect spot from which to ambush the Colonial Fleet. As part of a vanguard patrol for the Fleet, it was Zacs duty to investigate this bizarre, lurking threat.

Something said the voice of Apollo. Apollos whisper was so sibilant,his words were so precisely enunciated, that Zac could have sworn his brother was right there in the cockpit with him instead of scouting in another fighter some distance away.

Yeah, Zac said, I see them. What do you think?

Well think about it after checking it out. Might be a Cylon patrol.

Maybe. Awful long way from home, though. Wheres their base ship?

No base ship maybe. Long-range reconnaissance craft, refueling vesselscarrying extra Tylium. Strange.

What, Apollo?

One thing Zac had learned as a cockpit jockey was to listen to any of his brothers suspicions.

Im not picking up anything but static on the far side of those guys, Zac.

Apollo was right. Zac glanced at his scanner, saw only the two mysterious blips and an odd, steady field of static interference beyond them. The static appeared to indicate a storm, but no storms had been charted earlier for this sector.

See what you mean, Zac said. I thought there was something off with myscanner.

Could be a storm, though that doesnt make

Apollos voice drifted off, leaving behind a note of puzzled concern in thestaticky silence. After a moment, Apollo said, If it is a storm, theFleetll be coming right through it, and soon. Wed better go have a look. Kickin the turbos.

But Apollo, the standing orders on conserving fuel specifically forbid useof turbos, except under battle conditions or making the jump back to base.

Zac could have predicted his brothers irritated response.

Kid, dont let that peace conference back of us interfere with yourjudgment. Until we get official notice of a signing, anything goes. These are still the front lines.

On his ear-receptors, Zac could hear the thunderous acceleration of Apollosship as final punctuation to his rebuke. Okay, he thought, lets get to it.Pre-battle tension enveloped his whole body. It felt good. Zac ferociously pushed the trio of turbo engagement buttons and shoved his foot down on a pedal. The resulting thrust drove him back against his seat.

As they hurtled toward the old moon, Apollo felt uneasy that there should beany kind of disturbance within the unpopulated Lianus Sector. It just didntcheck out. The orders his father had sent out specifically commanded that all ships, whether war or merchant, should transmit their exact locations at all times. There was no reason that any of them should have forgotten, no strategic or trade reason for them to take the dangerous chance of hiding out. When you eliminated all the known twelve-colony ships, including outlaw craft, there was only one solution. Cylons. It wasnt a solution Apollo particularly wanted tocome to.

Zacs voice came through the com.

Hey, brother?

What is it, kid?

I know why I drew this duty. Tighs shafting meno, mark that outTighsteaching me a lesson for that little rest-and-recuperation escapade with Payeschief nurse in sick bay. But how did you get stuck with this patrol?

Zac always had to know everything. Sometimes his youthful curiosity annoyed the hell out of Apollo.

Oh, Apollo said, I was figuring that, once the armistice is signed,theyll be turning out all of us warriors, sending us to one of those planetswhere they force you into so much organized leisure you go out of your mind with boredom. SoI just wanted one last bite of a mission.

Uh huh, Zac said. Say, it wouldnt be because you wanted to ride herd onyour overeager young brother, would it? I mean, watchdogging me for the durationof this

Stop that, Zac. Im not watchdogging you. Not at all. Like I said, I

You sure, big brother?

Apollo hated the sarcastic emphasis on the word big. Sometimes his kid brother could be a royal pain in the blastoff tubes.