01 - Battlestar Galactica (32 page)

“With heavy hearts we lift up their bodies to you, O Lords of Kobol, in the
knowledge that you will take from them their burdens and give them life
eternal.” As she spoke, those gathered were utterly silent, focused with rapt
attention on her words. “We also pray that you will look upon us now with mercy
and with love, just as you did upon our forefathers many years ago. Just as you
led us from Kobol and found the Twelve Worlds, so now we hope and pray that you
will lead us to a new home, where we may begin life anew.”

Elosha looked out over the gathered company. “So say we all.”

The company murmured in response, “So say we all.”

Commander Adama turned around to look in stern dissatisfaction at the
assembly.
I
s
that the best you can do?
He strode out in front of
the gathering again, looking up and down the rows. Finally he repeated, in a
firm but controlled voice, “So say we all.”

The assembly echoed his words, just a little louder. Even President Roslin
and the staff officers seemed to have little heart for it. They had found
victory in battle, but now looked as if they had found defeat in the quiet after
the battle.

Adama tried again, louder. He had more than a little annoyance in his voice.
“So… say… we all!”

A better response this time. But still not good enough.

He shouted:
“So say we all!”

That finally provoked what he was looking for. The voices rose together in
solid refrain:
“So say we all!”

Commander Adama walked up alongside the first row of the fallen, gazed down
at the flag-covered bodies, and looked back at his people. “Are they the lucky
ones?” he asked, his voice booming through the big room. He continued walking
along the row. “That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” He spoke as he continued
along the outer edge of the funeral row toward the front. “We’re a long way from
home. We’ve Jumped
way
beyond the Red Line into uncharted space.” He
rounded the front end of the row and faced the gathered crowd again, from near
Elosha. “Limited supplies! Limited fuel! No allies! And
now
—no hope?”

He began walking back down the center, between the rows of bodies. He had
their attention, and he kept it. “Maybe it would have been better for us to have
died
quickly
back there on the Colonies with our families, instead of
dying out here, slowly, in the emptiness of dark space.” On the faces of his
officers, he saw somber agreement. Many of them
did
feel that way; and
who could blame them? They blamed themselves for feeling it. He could see that
in their faces, as well. They envied the dead, and they felt guilty for being alive. He had brought their darkest feelings into
the open.

He called out the questions: “Where shall we go? What shall we do?”

There was some stirring, as people considered his words. Some of them were
probably thinking
forward
for the first time since the war had begun.
They needed something to think forward
to.
Maybe he could help them.

“‘Life
here
began out
there
,’” he quoted.

He paused to see how they would respond to the familiar words. “Those are the
first words of the sacred scrolls, handed down to us by the Lords of Kobol, many
centuries ago. And those words made something perfectly clear: We are not alone
in this universe.” He turned around toward the priest. “Elosha—there is a
Thirteenth Colony of Humankind, is there not?”

Elosha responded clearly, but with perhaps a note of uncertainty in her
voice. “Yes. The scrolls tell us the Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol in the early
days. They traveled far and made their home upon a planet called Earth… which
circles a distant and unknown star.”

Adama let that last phrase hang in the air for a moment, before saying, “It’s
not
unknown!
I know where it is! Earth!”
For the next several
heartbeats, no one in the room drew a breath. Everyone, including Elosha, stared
at him in astonishment. “It’s the most guarded secret we have,” he continued.
“The location is known only to the senior commanders of the fleet. We dared not
share it with the public—not while there was a Cylon threat upon us. And thank
the Lords of Kobol for that. Because now we have a refuge to go to! A refuge
that the Cylons know nothing about!”

Giving them all a moment to absorb his words, he continued, “It won’t be an
easy journey. It’ll be long, and arduous. But I promise you one thing: On the
memory of those lying here before you, we shall find it. And Earth… will become our new home.” He looked out
over the stunned and hopeful faces. “So say we all!”

“So say we all!” they echoed, still a little uncertain.

Louder: “So say we all!”

And the response came louder.

Finally he shouted the words, as he walked toward them:
“So say we all!”

At last it sounded as if they meant it:
“SO SAY WE All!”

Commander Adama resumed his position in the front row again, facing forward
to Elosha. This time he said it calmly, in benediction: “So say we all.”

Elosha echoed his words, and his tone.

Satisfied at last, Adama stepped once more out of line and turned to face the
assembly “Dismissed!”

An enthusiastic cheer went up, as the tension was finally released. Many of
the crew hugged one another, or shook hands, or simply shook with relief. Some,
a few, stood thoughtful and uncertain, wondering just what this new revelation
meant.

One of those wondering thoughtfully was President Laura Roslin. Her smile was
tentative and brief. But whatever it was that troubled her, she said nothing
about it then; let the moment be what it was, her eyes seemed to say.

Pilots’ Quarters, Deck E

Kara Thrace wrenched off her boots with the jerky strength that comes from
deep weariness. She sat motionless on the edge of her bunk for a little while,
silently reliving the events of the last day or two. It seemed impossible to
believe that they had gotten through it all, and the worst was over. At least
she
thought
it was—for now.

With a long, luxurious sigh, she stretched out full-length on her bunk to
rest. She was wound so tightly, she couldn’t relax, though. She reached over her
head to grip the headpiece of the bunk, and she pulled, trying to stretch her
body. She wished she were a cat; then she could stretch properly. She was
exhausted, physically
and
emotionally. The battle, the crazy rescue of
Lee, the aftermath. Following their hair-raising landing, she and Lee had
climbed out of their broken Vipers, and then simply clung to each other—she in
relief and he in gratitude.

After a minute or so, the discipline had kicked in—and they’d gone all
awkward again, not daring to do something as radical as hug each other. But she
knew one thing: Commander Adama had risked the ship, holding it for the two of them, and she knew that Lee
knew that, too. Maybe things were finally on the mend between the two of them,
Lee and his father. That alone would be cause for celebration.

“You look comfortable,” one of her roommates said teasingly, on her way to
answer a knock on the door.

“Yeah, if no one bothers me, I may sleep for a week,” Kara answered, shutting
her eyes.

There was a brief silence, then, “Kara—Colonel Tigh to see you.”

Bloody hell.
She pushed herself up out of bed and into a posture vaguely
resembling attention. She made no effort to remove the scowl from her face,
though.

Colonel Tigh entered the little cabin area. “As you were.”

“I’m just trying to avoid another trip to the brig, sir,” she said tiredly,
tilting her head in question.
What the hell are you doing here?

Tigh let out a breath. He seemed very uncomfortable. “Lieutenant Thrace,” he
began. His gruff expression softened a little. “Kara. What you did out there
today with Lee Adama… it was, uh… a hell of a piece of flying.”

Did he come here to compliment me? What’s wrong?

Tigh nodded, and there seemed to be a slight tic in his cheek as he struggled
to make nice with Kara. Well, too frakking bad. Kara didn’t feel like making
nice with him.

In his trademarked growl, Tigh continued, “The commander has always said that
you were the best pilot he’s ever seen, and… well, today you proved it.” He
just looked at her for a moment, and she looked back at him. She didn’t give him
an inch.

“Now… about the other day… during the game…” He was struggling now.
He looked as if he were about to pop a blood vessel in his head, trying to force
the words out. “Well, maybe I was out of line, too. And I just…” He tried to force a smile. The tic in
his cheek was getting worse. “I just wanted to say, um… I’m sorry.”

Kara allowed a slight, sarcastic smile onto her face.

“Well, don’t you have anything to say?”

She felt an urge that she knew she should resist. She couldn’t, though.
“Permission to speak off the record, sir?”

“Granted.” He shrugged.

She allowed a long moment to pass. Then: “You’re a bastard.”

He began trembling, and shaking his head. “You just don’t know when to keep
your mouth shut, do you? I’m offering you a clean slate here.”

“I’m not interested in a clean slate with you,” she said, with a silky smooth
edge to her voice. She was starting to feel cocky, and she let it show. “You’re
dangerous. You know why?”

His expression darkened. “This’11 be good.”

She laughed softly. “Because you’re
weak.
Because you’re a drunk.”

“You done?” His eyes were filled with anger again.

She thought a moment, angling her eyes momentarily upward in contemplation.
She cocked her head. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re returned to flight status,” Tigh growled. Turning to walk away, he
added, “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Kara watched him leave, torn between wanting to laugh and wondering why the
hell it was she
couldn’t
keep her mouth shut around that man.

Commander Adama’s Quarters

Laura Roslin knocked on the metal hatch door to the Commander’s quarters.
“Come in!” she heard from the far side of the wall.

She pushed the hatch open, stepped through, and secured the hatch again from
the inside. She wondered how long it would take to get used to the awkward
system of doors on this ship.

Walking slowly into the room, she glanced curiously around Adama’s living
space. It was very neat, with mementoes of service attached to the walls, and a
surprising number of books. Old books. She didn’t know why that surprised her.
She hadn’t pegged him as the reading type. And yet, why not?

Commander Adama was dressed more casually than she had ever seen him; his
formal service coat was unbuttoned, and he was wearing it more like a robe. He
was kneeling on the floor at a wide coffee table, eating dinner from a bowl.
Noodles and salad. He looked up at her thoughtfully as he sorted stacks of paper
on the table. God, didn’t the man ever rest? “I hope I’m not disturbing you,”
she said.

“Not at all. Have a seat.”

She sat, a little stiffly, on a bench sofa beside the table. She was aware
that she was wearing the same maroon business suit she’d had on since before the
start of the war.
I wonder if there’s a laundry on this ship somewhere.
She shook her head and brought her thoughts back to her reason for coming.
“First thing, I suppose I should thank you for deciding to bring us—”

“Listen, you were right,” he said, interrupting her. “I was wrong. Let’s just
leave it at that.” He put down the papers in his hand.

Startled, she nodded slowly. “All right.”

He turned away for a moment to lift some books off the floor.

She suddenly voiced the thought that had been on her mind for hours.
“There’s no Earth,”
she said, a faint smile on her face. “You made it all
up.”

Adama didn’t say anything. He took off his glasses and turned to face her
again, wearily.

“President Adar and I once talked about the legends surrounding Earth. He
knew nothing about a secret location regarding Earth. And if the
president
knew nothing about it, what are the chances that you do?” She said it, not
accusingly, but matter-of-factly.

He straightened a little, his expression as impenetrable as ever. “You’re
right,” he admitted finally. “There’s no Earth. It’s all a legend.” He put his
glasses back on and turned to his stack of books once more.

“Then why—?”

“Because…” Adama suddenly looked to her like everybody’s favorite
grandfather or uncle, passing a nugget of wisdom on to the next generation.
“It’s not enough to just live. You have to have something to live
for.
Let it be Earth.”

Laura felt a grin she could barely subdue sneak onto her face. She stood up
and walked around, many emotions warring for control of her expression. She
didn’t know precisely what she felt just now, but she certainly had to admire
his guts. “How long can you keep it up as a pretense?”

“As long as it takes. Until we find a planet that can sustain us, and start
life over.”

She nodded and smiled tightly. “They’ll never forgive you for lying to them.”

“Maybe.” He looked up at her. “But in the meantime, I’ve given all of us a
fighting chance to survive. And isn’t that what you said was the most important
thing? Survival of the human race?”

Did I say that? Maybe I did.
“Who else knows?” she asked, arms crossed.

“Not a soul.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “All right. I’ll keep your secret. But I want
something in return.”

Leaning one elbow on a pile of books, he said, “I’m listening.”

“If this civilization is going to function, it’s going to need schools,
hospitals—however limited. Manufacturing and repair. Agriculture and mining.
Service industries. Police. An economy. It’s going to need a
government.”
Her voice was soft, but her tone was adamant. “A civilian government run by the
President of the Colonies.”