CHAPTER

17

 

 

Confused babbling broke out around the table. A fair amount of it was literal nonsense. Commander Adama lost his fragile control and jabbered, a look of shock on his craggy face. Tigh joined in. Until now, his speech had been clear, but being startled seemed to push him over some sort of edge. Roslin and Lee both shouted questions. Only Kara, Sharon, and her guards remained silent, though Sharon’s guards stared at the syringes as if they were a rich pile of emeralds and rubies. Through it all, Gaius Baltar stood at the head of the table, his arms folded across his chest, a look of triumph on his face. Kara found herself distrustful instead of glad.

At last, Lee bellowed for quiet and the room fell silent. Or nearly so. Adama and Tigh babbled gibberish for a few seconds before managing to quiet themselves.

“Thank you, Captain,” Roslin said. Her body was shaking now. Kara wondered if the plague was worse for her because of the cancer. “Doctor, if those injections will cure the plague, I think you should administer them now. We’ll have the explanation later.”

“Of course, Madam President.” Baltar moved quickly about the room with the tray. He started with Commander Adama, then followed up with Tigh and Roslin. When he reached Kara, she held up her hand.

“I’m good,” she said.

Baltar gave her an odd look, but continued around the table. He also injected Sharon’s guards. He didn’t offer one to Sharon and she didn’t ask. Cylons had red blood, that Kara knew—she had seen enough of it over the months—but she doubted it was compatible with human biology.

“You should begin to feel better almost immediately,” Baltar said. “The prions fasten onto your nervous tissue early on, and that starts the shaking and the babbling, but they don’t do permanent damage until later in the cycle, when the patient is in a coma.”

“How, Doctor?” Roslin asked. She was rolling her sleeve back down. “You said it would take you two or three days to manufacture the C prion.”

“True,” Baltar admitted. “But I found a… shortcut in the middle of the process.” He paused and made a tiny shudder before continuing. “I had also been operating under the assumption that I would begin to shake as well, which would slow me down. It never happened. I seem to be part of that tiny percentage of a given population that is naturally immune to any given disease.”

“Lucky for us,” Tigh said.

“Indeed,” Baltar said. “Even as we speak, the incubator in my lab is making enough Prion C to innoculate the entire Fleet. I have enough to start on the military—and the government, Madam President. They can handle distribution.”

Tigh got up and clapped Baltar on the back. “You’re a hero, Doctor. A real hero.”

And then everything fell into place. Kara knew. Her jaw tightened and her stomach oozed with nausea. She rose abruptly. “I have to go,” she said. “I can … I can help with the distribution process. I’ll go down to sickbay and see to it. Commander?”

“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” Adama said hoarsely. As Kara turned to go, he added, “Lieutenant.”

She stopped and turned.

“I was sorry to hear about what happened to Peter,” he said.

A lump formed in Kara’s throat. Peter had infected her with a disease, aided in her kidnapping, and duped hundreds of people into joining a monotheistic little cult. But before that, he had been funny and kind and fascinating. A few minutes before his death, Kara had hated Peter, found him weak and self-centered. But when the timer was counting down those final seconds, he could have stayed with Lee in the hope that the Captain would find a way to disarm the explosive at the last moment. Instead, Peter had given up the hope in order to save Lee’s life. Kara didn’t know how to feel about Peter right then, but she did know his bloody death made her sad in a way she didn’t want to explore right then. So she nodded acknowledgment to Adama and left the conference room.

Lee caught up with her in the hallway outside CIC. “What was that all about?”

Kara glanced around. The corridor was empty. When people got sick and shaky, they slipped off to their beds to hide rather than collapse in the hallways. “The frakking bastard lied.”

“Who do you mean? Baltar?”

“No, the frakking High Priest of Geminon,” Kara snarled. “Of course I mean Baltar. Who else?”

Lee held up his hands. They only trembled the tiniest bit. “His cure seems to be working. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. We were all heading for death’s gateway, including my dad.”

“He lied about how long it would take to make the cure,” Kara explained, overly patient. “He said creating the cure prion would take a couple days when he frakking knew it would only take a few hours. He lets us all think we’re dead, and then he strides in to announce that he has the cure after all, applause and adulation, please. Frak him!”

“That’s a serious charge, Kara,” Lee said. “Can you—”

“No, I can’t prove it,” she sighed. “And there wouldn’t be any point now.” She took off down the hallway again with Lee tagging after her.

“How do you know, anyway?” he pressed. “You haven’t even been on the Galactica for the last several hours.”

“How long does it take to grow a prion?” Kara countered. “I’m betting it takes a couple hours. He had enough on that tray of his to cure everyone in CIC. That means he had the cure prion while I was still with the Unity on the Monarch, right? If he had come forward right then, it wouldn’t have mattered if we got Peter back or not, and the entire situation would have changed. Peter might still be alive.”

“We still needed to get you out,” Lee reminded her. “And once word got out that we didn’t need Peter anymore, Sharon—the bad one—would have just taken you hostage earlier.”

“Maybe,” Kara acknowledged. “But Peter”—her voice caught—“would still be alive. Meanwhile, Baltar saves the Fleet.”

Lee put a hand on her shoulder, halting her in mid-stride. “Look, we can’t know what would have happened. Maybe Baltar lied, maybe he didn’t. There’s no point in chewing on it right now. We have to get the prion out to the military and then to the public. And you won’t be any help by walking this way.”

“What do you mean?” Kara asked.

“Sickbay is that way.”

Kara managed a small laugh and was surprised at how much better she felt for it.

 

It was two hours later. Commander William Adama sat once again at the conference room table, but he had managed a shower and a change of uniform. Between that and the lack of shakiness in his limbs and his voice, he felt bright as a new-minted coin. Laura Roslin, also seated at the table, looked more like her old self. He knew the cancer gave her good days and bad days, and she seemed to be having a good day now that the prion had been cleansed from her system. He felt gladder about that than about himself and Lee.

Lee, Kara, and Baltar had set about administering Prion C to Dr. Cottle, his medics, and the rest of the sickbay staff. Once they were well enough, they headed out into Galactica proper with more syringes. Adama had ordered skeleton crews for all shifts. The cure worked, but people were still tired and needed rest before becoming completely well.

Once Galactica was inoculated, Adama ordered Raptors to carry the cure to the rest of the Fleet.

Unfortunately, casualty reports were also coming in. So far twenty-one people, including five children, had died, and twelve had gotten the cure too late for it to do any good, meaning death would eventually come to them as well. Adama pursed his lips at the report of each new death. Every single life was precious now, and every single death whittled a little more away from humanity’s chance of surviving.

Gaius Baltar was also in the room. The rest of the cure had finished incubating and he wasn’t needed in his lab anymore. “There’s going to be a problem,” he said.

Adama sighed heavily. “What now?”

“The Monarch, the Phoebe, and some of the other Geminon ships are absolutely rife with Unity followers,” Baltar said.

“So?” Adama said.

“Oh!” Roslin put a hand to her mouth. “I should have foreseen that.”

“Seen what?” Adam said, beginning to get annoyed. Nothing was ever easy on the Galactica.

“Peter’s death makes him a martyr,” Roslin said. “It will only strengthen the beliefs of some—perhaps even most—of his followers.”

“And they see the plague as a blessing instead of a curse,” Baltar finished.

Adama took a moment to rest his forehead on his now-steady hand. “So you’re thinking that they’ll resist inoculation. Even though they’ll die without it.”

“I’d bet a year’s salary on it,” Roslin said. Adama wasn’t sure if that was meant as a joke or not—Roslin hadn’t been paid for anything since the attack. Neither had he, come to that.

His tired mind, now overly sensitive to crisis, was already running scenarios. Forced inoculation would take large amounts of personnel and practically guarantee someone would get hurt. It was difficult or impossible to persuade someone caught in the grip of religious fervor. Maybe they could trick at least some of them into thinking the injection was something else?

“This,” Baltar said, interrupting Adama’s train of thought, “is why I took a small liberty. I hope you don’t mind.”

“What’s that, Doctor?” Adama asked warily. Roslin looked uncertain as well.

At that moment, a knock came at the door. Baltar rose to open it. In walked Sarah Porter, closely followed by two men in priestly robes and another man with a video camera slung over his shoulder. Porter held a double scroll. Roslin kept her seat, but Adama got to his feet.

“Doctor?” he asked.

“You know, of course, Representative Porter of Geminon,” Baltar said. “And this is Remus Tal, a Priest, and this is Nikolas Koa, an Oracle. They’re also from Geminon.”

Greetings were exchanged. Roslin still didn’t rise, and Adama suspected she was feeling tired again.

“Some of the people in my jurisdiction are resisting inoculation,” Porter said.

“As I predicted,” Baltar put in.

Porter shot him a hard look at the interrupting, then continued. “However, Dr. Baltar here has pointed out something which may be of interest in solving the problem.” She spread the scroll across the table. Adama put on his reading glasses. They made him feel like a grandfather, but he really had no choice. Roslin got up to join him. Her movements were slow and careful, so Adama resolved to keep this short.

“The Book of Glykon?” Roslin said. “I thought you considered this apocryphal.”

“Just between us,” Sarah said, “I do. But Dr. Baltar has pointed out something very interesting that just might solve this one last problem.”

 

Kara lay sound asleep in a sickbay bed, dreaming of explosions that hurled chains in every direction. A dark figure loomed over her, and a sixth sense told her this wasn’t a dream, and she jerked awake, hands in a fighting stance. Lee Adama backed up, his own hands raised. “Just me,” he said.

“Frak,” she said, and sank back into the thin mattress. After injecting maybe a hundred people, Kara’s body had finally given out. Darkness closed in and she felt herself falling. She remembered careful hands helping her along until she ended up someplace soft. A bed in sickbay. The place was crowded. Every bed was occupied, and most of the privacy curtains were open. She caught sight of Dr. Cottle bending over a patient in another bed.

“Why am I here instead of in my bunk?” she asked.

“Someone was already sleeping there,” Lee said wryly, “so I brought you here. The person who had this bed had recovered enough to walk, so Doc Cottle kicked him out to make space for you.”

Kara grimaced. “I feel like I could sleep for a month—and I’m frakking starved. Don’t ever get kidnapped by the Unity. They don’t feed you.” Her stomach growled, emphasizing the point.

“I’ll see if I can scrounge you something to eat in a minute,” Lee said. “Got lots of algae.”

“I’ll take a big plate of it, as long as you add a steak, some fries, and a hunk of corn on the cob dripping with butter and loaded with salt.”

“Maybe after you’ve had more rest,” Lee said. “Even the mighty Starbuck needs sleep once in a while.”

“So why’d you wake me up?” she growled. “And how long was I out?”

“Couple hours. I woke you up because there’s a news conference coming on I thought you might want to see.” He reached up to a video monitor hanging in a corner and switched it on. A well-dressed reporter with braided auburn hair was talking earnestly into a microphone.

“—here on the Phoebe where riots have broken out over the military’s attempt to inoculate the population against the so-called plague of tongues,” she was saying. The picture cut to scenes of angry civilians, some of them clearly in the shaking, babbling stage of the disease, throwing small objects at wary soldiers, who ducked behind shields and dodged around corners. Several carried signs that boasted slogans: PETER ATTIS WAS A MARTYR! WE ARE BLESSED! THE UNIFIER WILL SAVE HUMANITY! THE ONE IS THE ONLY ONE!

The soldiers in the scenes were clearly unwilling to engage the civilians, but it was equally clear that they weren’t sure what to do.

“Rioting isn’t limited to the Phoebe,” continued the reporter in a voiceover. “After the explosion on the mining ship Monarch killed Peter Attis, the large gathering of Unity members who were opposing the military’s attempt to free Attis’ lover Lieutenant Kara Thrace—”

Kara bolted upright in the bed. The movement earned a jolt of pain from various injuries, but she ignored it. “How the frak did they learn about this so fast?”

“Hush!” Lee said.

“—refused inoculation,” the reporter continued. “Many other Unity members and sympathizers are also refusing to cooperate. President Laura Roslin has enacted a new law requiring all people in the Fleet to receive the injection, which was developed by Vice-President Gaius Baltar. Despite this, Unity members and sympathizers continue to fight being inoculated.”

“What idiots,” Kara said. “They want to die, that’s their business. After everything we’ve been through to get that cure, I say screw ’em.”

“We’re talking several hundred people,” Lee said. “And several children.”

Kara sank back into the bed again. “I know, I know. It’s just…”

“I know.” Lee patted her arm, and Kara realized that out of all the friends she had in the Fleet, Lee probably understood her the best. She felt comfortable with him, even safe. So why the hell did she feel pulled in two different directions about him all them time? Even now, part of her wanted him to take her hand and part of her wanted to shove him away. She settled on ignoring his touch and fixing her attention on the television. More angry civilians vied with uncertain soldiers. Then a newscaster broke in.

“We’ve just received word that President Roslin will be addressing the Fleet,” he said. “We take you to her now.”

Billy Keikeya appeared on the screen. He looked pale and wobbly, probably still recovering from the plague of tongues. “Citizens of the Colonies,” he said, “I give you our president, Laura Roslin.”

He stepped aside, and Roslin, also pale, came on camera. Kara realized with a small start that the background was not the usual podium on Colonial Fleet One, but the conference room off CIC.

“Good evening,” Roslin said. “By now all of you know of the plague which has struck the Fleet and the fact that we have an inoculation developed by our vice president, Dr. Gaius Bal-tar. The inoculation will cure those who have the plague and grant immunity to those who don’t. However, some people are seeing this plague as a blessing, as the touch of some divine being brought by Peter Attis. These people are resisting inoculation. I am here to tell you that the plague is no divine blessing. It is a prion developed by the Cylons. They infected the late Mr. Attis with it in the hope that as an entertainer, he would come into contact with great numbers of people and spread the plague farther and faster.

“I also know that many people believe Mr. Attis was a person called the Unifier come to save humanity by uniting everyone under a single god. This position seemed to be supported by certain passages in the Book of Glykon. I am here to tell you that this interpretation of the passages is an error. Peter Attis is not—was not—the Unifier foretold there.”

The camera pulled back, revealing that Roslin was standing behind the conference table in CIC. The chairs had been pulled away to make room for her and for Sarah Porter and Gaius Bal-tar, who were standing next her. Baltar looked cool and calm, almost smug. Also present were two men Kara didn’t recognize, though she assumed by the clothes they wore that they were clergy. On the table in front of Roslin lay a partially unrolled scroll.

“What the hell is this about?” Kara asked.

“Just watch,” Lee said. The expression on his face was rigidly neutral and gave Kara no clues. Was the news good or bad? She couldn’t tell, and that annoyed her. Why couldn’t Lee just tell her?

“The main passage that the Unity members quote,” Roslin said, stabbing a finger at the open scroll before her, “reads as follows: ‘He—the Unifier—will save Humanity with the Plague of the Tongue.’ This is taken to indicate that Peter Attis would bring a disease that would make people speak in tongues, and this plague would save everyone by uniting humanity. There are also rumors that the Cylons will stop attacking us if we profess to believe in a single god, rumors that further feed the idea that Mr. Attis is the Unifier.

“In light of recent events, I have consulted with Representative Sarah Porter of Geminon and with Remus Tal, a Priest, and Nikolas Koa, an Oracle. They pointed out that Peter Attis and his followers read the Book of Glykon incorrectly, an easy mistake and completely understandable, but a mistake nonetheless.

The Book of Glykon indicates that the Unifier will save humanity with the plague of the tongue. This doesn’t mean the plague will be the tool that saves humanity. It means that the Unifier will save people who have the plague. In other words, the Unifier will cure—save—the people who carry this sickness. The identity of the true Unifier can now be revealed.”

“Oh, frak,” Kara whispered. “He didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Lee said. “He did.”

Roslin stepped aside so that Tal and Koa could come forward. Between them they held a rectangular piece of gold cloth with two strings at the upper corners. The camera followed them as they solemnly processed to Gaius Baltar, who wore a humble, slightly overwhelmed look on his face.

“The Scrolls of Glykon are clear,” Koa intoned. “Gaius Baltar is the Unifier who saved people with the terrible plague of tongues.”

“Blessings on Gaius Baltar!” Tal said. “Blessings on the Unifier!”

Kara stared. “Is this… are they really doing this?”

“It’s the best way,” Lee said. “If it works, and Baltar is recognized as the Unifier, people will stop resisting inoculation.”

“It’s twisting one of the scrolls,” Kara protested. “Baltar isn’t the Unifier.”

“How do you know?” Lee said philosophically. “This might be exactly what the Scroll of Glykon meant. It’s hard to save humanity if it’s dead.”

“—to accept this honor,” Baltar was saying from the screen. “I often felt that an invisible hand guided me during my work on the inoculation. I sincerely believe I was touched by a greater power, and I am humbled by this grave responsibility.” He paused dramatically. “As the Unifier, I ask my followers to receive my touch and allow the inoculation to continue.”

“Turn it off,” Kara said. “I’m tired.”

Lee obligingly shut off the monitor and turned to go. Kara watched him move away, leave her behind as everyone in her life seemed to do. And suddenly the thought of being alone was too harsh to bear.

“Wait,” she said. “Lee, hold on.”

He returned to her bedside, a quizzical look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Acting on impulse she reached out and took his hand. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He looked genuinely puzzled.

“For coming after me. For bringing me here. For checking on me.”

“That’s what friends are for, Kara.”

“I know.” She continued to hold his hand. It was warm in hers. “And sometimes I think you and I…”

He leaned down to kiss her. But she turned her head at the last moment and the kiss landed on her cheek. Lee pulled back, looking confused and not a little angry.

“Kara,” he said, “I don’t know what you—”

“I don’t either,” she interrupted. “Look, Lee—everyone leaves. Zak. Sam. Peter. I don’t want you to join those ranks. I’d rather keep you around.”

“I wouldn’t leave you, Kara,” he said.

“How can you be sure?” she countered.

“Nothing’s sure around here,” he said, half wry, half sullen. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Exactly. Maybe one day I’ll feel different, but right now…” She squeezed his hand again, then carefully and firmly put it down. Lee gave her a long look with his blue eyes and a hurt look on his boyish face. Then he nodded once, turned, and left.

Something twisted in Kara’s chest. Not only had she ruined any chance of a deeper relationship with Lee Adama, she had also killed their friendship.

You’re stupid. A stupid, ugly cow. You don’t deserve to be happy. You don’t deserve to live. You don’t deserve anything at all.

And she couldn’t tell whether the inner voice was her own or her father’s.

She turned over, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears. Sleep. That was what she needed now. The sounds of a busy, bustling sickbay swirled around her, but the military taught you to sleep through anything, and sickbay sounds were as soothing as a seashore lullaby She would sleep and forget all about everything. Kara was just drifting off when the clank of dishes brought her awake again.

“What the hell?” She sat up and found Lee there. He was looking at her over a tray of covered dishes.

“Supper,” he said. “You said you were hungry.” He lifted lids as he spoke. “Algae soup. Algae salad. Algae bread. And for dessert, algae tapioca pudding. Yum yum!”

Kara stared down at green piles of glop, then burst out, “You frak-head!” She scooped up a spoonful of goo, ready to fling it at him, but Lee had already fled, the sound of his laughter trailing behind him. Kara put a hand to her mouth to stifle relieved laughter of her own. Then she sniffed the tray and picked up the spoon again.

The tapioca was surprisingly good.

 

President Laura Roslin slumped into a chair and leaned back with her eyes shut. The CIC conference room was empty of people except for Bill Adama. Baltar, the clergy, the camera crew, and even Billy Keikeya had left, thank gods, and that meant she could slouch all she wanted. Bill Adama wouldn’t tell anyone.

Laura suppressed a snort as she realized that the only two people in the Fleet who she felt comfortable showing weakness to were both named William.

“How are you feeling?” Adama asked from his own chair.

“Like I could sleep for a century,” she said.

“Want a drink? I got the good stuff.”

She opened her eyes. “No, thanks. That would really lay me low. Wouldn’t do for the president to conk out on her way to Colonial One.”

A moment of silence fell between them, a comfortable silence Laura enjoyed sharing with him.

“Did we do it right?” Adama asked at last.

“No way to know for sure,” Laura said. “I mean, the riots calmed down almost immediately after Dr. Baltar’s broadcast, and people are accepting the inoculation, so that’s a plus. But declaring Gaius Baltar the Unifier… I don’t know. He took to the role a little too well for my taste.”

“I suspect that part of it will die down after a while. After all, the Unifier has already performed his duty by saving humanity. Nothing else for him to do, really.”

And Laura Roslin laughed.

 

Helo put a hand to the wire-enforced Plexiglas barrier that separated him from Sharon’s cell. She sighed, then pressed her own hand to it. Helo tried to pretend they were touching skin-on-skin, but it didn’t work.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I feel like a dog who slipped her leash for a while and then got thrown back into the kennel,” Sharon said.

“I’m going to try to get you out of there, Sharon,” he said. “I am. Commander Adama will listen to reason eventually.”

“Right,” Sharon scoffed. “What do you think’s going to happen? That I’ll put on my uniform again one day? That Adama and I will sit at a little table together all buddy-buddy and he’ll tell me his personal problems?”

“Who knows?” Helo said, trying to remain calm, though his voice was cracking. “It seems like something weird happens every frakking week around here, and you can never tell one day to the next what’s going to happen.”

“Easy to be optimistic when you’re outside the jail instead of in it.”

“I know.”

“Be honest, Helo,” she said, and he detected a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Did you really think I killed that marine?”

“No,” he said promptly. “I did wonder how else he could have died, but I knew it wasn’t you. Even when other people were calling me toaster-lover and giving me shit, I never thought it was you.”

Some of the tension visibly went out of her. “Okay. Thanks.”

“I have to go,” he said reluctantly “I have to get some sleep before I go on duty again. I love you.”

She nodded. “I love you, too.”

He turned and left the brig, not at all sure that he had told Sharon the truth but knowing there was nothing else he could have said.

 

“No, no, really. I have work to do. Thank you for coming. Really! It’s quite all right. Yes, yes. Blessings on you all. I’ll be giving a lecture just as soon as everyone’s on their feet. Thank you again. More blessings, more blessings! Good day!”

Gaius Baltar closed the door to his laboratory, locked it, and leaned his back against it. Muffled knocks and faint pounding thudded on the metal. A smile stretched Gaius’ face. Ah, the price of fame. Never a moment alone, even in his lab.

“That went well, Gaius,” said Number Six. She was leaning against the door beside him, but her posture was casual.

“I liked it,” he said with a grin. “Being the Unifier could have its advantages.”

“Even though you lied about how long it would take you to find the cure so you could swoop in at the most theatrical moment and save everyone,” she said.

He faltered. “Well, I did find the cure.”

“And they won’t ignore you ever again.” Her gaze was hard and penetrating.

“I thought that was the whole idea.”

“It was.” Six swayed seductively toward him. “How did you put it? ‘An invisible hand guided me’?” She put both hands on his shoulders, then slowly slid them down his chest, past his stomach, past his waist. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “‘I was touched by a greater power’?”

He shuddered deliciously as her fingers worked. “Yes. Yes, I was.”

“And it’s a good thing I reminded you to set up that little display with the priests.”

“Yes, it was.”

“But you haven’t remembered everything, Gaius.”

He sighed. “Now what?”

“The other parts from the Book of Glykon. How did they go? ‘And the Unifier shall walk among the Enemy, and He shall return both changed and unharmed.’”

“I… I suppose that fits me, doesn’t it?”

Her fingers continued working on his body, playing it like an instrument of pure pleasure. “‘The Unifier will bring together all Humans into one Tribe under one God.’ I wonder what that could mean?”

“I haven’t the foggiest.”

“Don’t forget the best one. ‘And the Heads of those who defy the Unifier shall tumble to the Ground.’”

Her caressing fingers made him shudder. “That has a poetic ring.”

“Just so you never forget it, Gaius,” she murmured. “Never, ever forget who you are and who got you here.”

“I,” he said with a sudden grin, “am Gaius Baltar.”

He took her into his arms and danced her across the room, swirling in gleeful circles all by himself.