Section 1.3 : Coded Messages

 

14 Sextus 6489
Demeter Transfer Station

He'd come out on the standard shuttle run, the one that Fleet and Infantry normally used, not the Shield shuttle he was more accustomed to. The shuttle had docked at Airlock 20, fifteen docks away from Shield territory.

Apollo hesitated, standing for a few centons on the walkway, looking up-station towards docks 1 through to 5, where home was. People stepped around him, one or two grumbling, most giving him curious glances. Shield was apart and singular, and even here on Demeter where more Shield Warriors could be seen in one place than anywhere else in the star system, his all-black uniform singled him out for attention.

It was a long time before he turned away, heading down into the heart of the station. The crowds thickened as he reached the central core, and even though they tried to give him a wide berth, he felt uncomfortably conspicuous. He was glad to reach the Quartermaster's on level three, and although he had to wait almost a half-centar in the queue, it was worth being out of the crowd.

The Corporal who shepherded him into one of the cubicles lining the Quartermaster's department didn't express even the slightest surprise when Apollo asked for a complete Fleet outfitting. Apollo himself wasn't one for casual conversation, and he appreciated the Corporal's quiet efficiency. The man acted like he'd been there for yahrens, and nothing, no request at all, could surprise him. Dozens of Shield warriors taking their reluctant, complaining rotation out had probably passed through his hands.

Mirrors lined the wall of the small cubicle. Apollo looked at the unfamiliar reflection for a long time. He didn't think Felix was right. He didn't think he looked too great in beige and brown. Behind him, the Corporal folded the black uniform carefully and put it into Apollo's kitbag.

"I'll get you another bag for your new kit," said the Corporal, almost the first thing he'd said. "You may need to find someone to help you carry both bags, especially with that as well."

He nodded towards the sealed case that held the datapads with the encrypted T18 Molecay data, and which hadn't been more than a foot away from Apollo at any time since the Intelligence Committee, as embodied in Supreme Commander Jak hadn't so much as given him permission to continue working on it throughout his Columbia posting, as ordered him to.

"You're letting me keep my Shield uniform?" asked Apollo, surprised.

The man didn't even glance up from smoothing the black flight jacket into neat folds. "You lot usually want to keep it. For when you get back."

Apollo watched him for a centon, then grinned. "Yeah. Thanks. You never know when it'll come in useful."





14 Decimus 6489
Battlestar Columbia, near the Borallus sectar

"Fuck."

Apollo, hands shaking, closed down the datapad.

For a micron he fought it back, the nausea that welled up, burning his throat. His stomach roiled, sweat breaking out on his hairline, along the length of his jaw. He wiped at his mouth, his hands trembling so badly it was like he had palsy.

He only just made it to the fresher in time.





18 Decimus 6489
Battlestar Columbia, the Borallus sector

"I'm not certain I'm getting a fair share of your time here, Captain."

And that was a bit unfair. Apollo was extremely careful to keep his various jobs in air-tight compartments and he just didn't allow the Strategy Unit work to bleed out into the day job. Feeling challenged by Commander Dalton for the first time since he'd got to the Columbia—their relationship had been cordial and he knew he was doing well, damned well—the fingers of his right hand twisted in the fabric of his uniform pants. He didn't need this on top of the report he had to get to Felix. Dalton watched him, eyes narrowed.

"You know what I do, Ma'am," he said.

She nodded. "The Supreme Commander made that very clear. I've always been at a loss to understand where you find the time."

"I only work on long-term projects. Nothing that's time critical." Apollo glanced at her briefly. "It's amazing how much you can do in the odd centar between patrols."

"Or even during them," said Dalton, as if she could see the datapad that he always carried in his pocket. She leaned back in her chair, watching him steadily. "And now this long-term, non-time-critical project has reached the point where you need to call home?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Using the incredibly expensive, top-security rated Gold Channel to do it."

"I don't want a verbal link, Ma'am, but yes."

"The taxpayers will be grateful," she said, dryly. "I'm told that even text links cost the equivalent of a yahren's salary. My salary."

He sighed and waited.

"You need extremely high security clearance to use it."

She had to be fishing. Apollo was pretty certain that along with making clear that Apollo's little side job of working with the Strategy Unit was important, Jak would have told her that his security clearance was high. Higher than hers, anyway. Maybe that was what was bothering her.

"Griffin Beta Seven, Ma'am." With that clearance, he could call in the Columbia's security officer and commandeer the entire ship, and they both knew it. He hoped she wouldn't push him into doing that. It would make the day job a little difficult.

Her mouth quirked into a brief smile. "I know. All right, Apollo. I thought you'd avail yourself of the privilege long before now, but I concede you've been admirably restrained. I'm curious to know what it's all about."

"You really don't want to know, Ma'am."

"Which, given you certainly won't tell me, is perhaps just as well. And given the body language, all too true."

Apollo flushed. He hadn't realised he was so obvious.

"Something's been bothering you for the last few days."

"Yes. I finished this one last secton. I've been reviewing it all since then."

"Because you're meticulous and anal about these things?"

"Because I was hoping I was wrong."

She watched him for a centon or two. He could sense her unease, because she had to be picking up on his own, but she nodded, becoming suddenly formal. "Then let the record show that you invoked Griffin Beta Seven clearance and I have acknowledged its primacy over any other communications activity. When do you want to do it?"

Apollo pulled the datapad from his pocket. "As soon as I can, please, Ma'am. There's likely to be a response and I'll need to use it again, as soon as the Strategy Unit's had the time to assess the report."

She nodded and stood up from behind her desk, bringing him to his feet automatically. "You can use this office. I'll tell the Comms desk to make the link for you." She waved away the salute he offered and paused in the doorway. "Apollo, is this anything I need worry about?"

Fuck, yes. Any sane person would worry about this.

He chose his words with care. "It isn't imminent and it's not in this sector."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Yes, Ma'am, I know."

Her expression was unreadable. "I see. Then perhaps I'd rather not know."

He nodded. That was very wise.

She grimaced slightly and left him to it. As soon as the door closed, he fitted the datapad into the computer monitor on her desk, logging himself in past its layers of encrypted security while he waited for the link.

Anything she or anyone else need worry about? Yes, Ma'am, just a little worrying. Just something so terrible, so horrible, that he was having trouble sleeping at night.

The monitor blinked at him. {{ Gold link established. Enter initiation and destination codes }}

Apollo sighed and leaned forward. Time to tell Felix the good news.

From the Battlestar Columbia to Supreme Military Headquarters, secure transmission, Gold-line, beta-griffin-seven clearance

From Supreme Military Headquarters to the Battlestar Columbia, secure transmission, Gold-line beta-griffin-seven clearance

From Supreme Military Headquarters to the Battlestar Columbia, secure transmission, Gold-line beta-griffin-seven clearance

From the Battlestar Columbia to Supreme Military Headquarters, Secure transmission, Gold-line beta-griffin-seven clearance

 

 

25 Quartus 6490
The Adaman family mansion, Osaiya

His mother was flatteringly delighted to see him. She said so, often, in the first few centons after he'd walked in on her without warning, once she'd stopped crying over him. Apollo let her do it for a few centons. It reminded him of times when the only things that had worried him were skinned knees or a childish dread of having to admit to a less than perfect score in his maths class. She'd been unfailingly comforting then, too, when she'd persuaded him to tell her what was wrong.

He shifted her weight off his shoulder and permitted her another hug before depositing her firmly back into a chair with an admonishment to put him down and stop being melodramatic. As ever, the tears had done nothing but enhance her bright eyes, the delicate makeup undamaged. She even managed to get maternally tearful with exquisite grace. She laughed when he told her so, preening a little. She was still the most beautiful woman he knew.

"You're a cold hearted creature, just like your father." But she was smiling.

"I am? I'm not the one crying crocodile tears."

"Tears of joy," said Ila, with dignity.

"Ah. The kind guaranteed not to spoil your make-up, you mean."

"Oh, very like your father! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I didn't have time and stop insulting me. I'm nothing like him. Hold on a centon." Apollo walked down to the kitchen, accepted their housekeeper's equally flattering hug and welcome kiss, and asked for tea.

His mother was still smiling when he got back to her drawing room, watching the door for his reappearance. "It's lovely to see you, darling, but I didn't know you were coming home."

Apollo kept his tone light. The worse part of it was that this wasn't some childish hurt he could confide. This had to remain uncomforted. "There's a job coming up, Mamma, that I've been planning. Uncle Jak called yesterday and told me to haul my worthless carcass back here for a briefing meeting tomorrow morning in his office."

"Dear Jak. I can almost hear him say it." Ila's tone was fond.

"I did hear him say it. So did Columbia's entire command staff—the old devil called when I was on bridge duty. Commander Dalton laughed herself silly and shoved me onto a shuttle. I got in at noon."

He'd had time since his arrival to go to the apartment and satisfy himself that Rosie wasn't there. He hadn't expected her to be. Her last newsy, chatty letter had clearly been sent from Demeter with Rosie and the Hyperion on the way out to a job, but he'd clung to a bit of hope that she'd be back. The last yahren of celibacy had been harder on him than he'd expected and he'd missed her. She wasn't there. He'd told her to use the apartment as if it were her own—he'd left it to her anyway, in his new will, although he hadn't mentioned that—but there was no sign that she'd been there since he'd left it for the Columbia.

"Your father says you're doing very well on the Columbia," said Ila.

Apollo let the answering scowl to that particular conversational gambit fade away as Hanna brought in tea. There was enough to feed the entire Fleet. Hanna had always assumed he and Zac never had enough to eat even when they'd lived at home and she was the one responsible for feeding them. He smiled his thanks at her and let his mother go through the daily teatime ritual, Hanna hovering until Apollo had obediently given in to her demands to eat the tiny little scones that she excelled in making. They tasted wonderful and Apollo had no trouble at all in making his compliments sound sincere.

"And how does he know how I did on the Columbia?" he asked, once Hanna had left the room, secure in her triumph and reassured that Apollo wasn't going to expire from starvation that day, at least.

"He asked. He has good reason to want to know how you're doing."

"What do you mean, good reason?" demanded Apollo.

His mother just smiled. "You're his son. He wants you to do well and, I have to say, he's overbearingly proud when you do."

"I suppose," he said, rather thickly, speaking through another mouthful of scone, "that he has Dalton send him reports every secton? It's worse than being at school."

"Darling, you're talking about senior Fleet officers and battlestar commanders. They gossip worse than old women, especially about family."

"Like Great Aunt Alicia?"

Ila said, dispassionately, "They could give your Aunt Alicia a parsec's head start, and still beat her to the finish line."

Apollo shuddered. "Now you know why I never wanted to be in Fleet."

"Never mind, darling. You've only another yahren or so and then you can go home."

He smiled at her. "Yes."

"When do you finish at the Columbia?"

"Dear Jak—" and Ila laughed at his emphasis "—said that I won't be going back. He's got a permanent replacement there, and he said he'll find something else for me. I'm hoping he'll send me back to Shield."

"Do you think he will?"

"No, but I'm hoping." Apollo finished his third scone and his second cup of tea and sighed, rather more than replete. There was nothing to touch Hanna's baking, even though he hadn't really been that hungry. "I liked the Columbia, and Dalton was right. I did do well."

His mother's mouth twitched. "Oh, but you are very like your father!"

"I told you. No insulting me on my first night home." They both laughed, and Apollo got up to give her a quick kiss. "All right, spill the beans. What's the news?"

"Well, where shall I start? Your father was home two sectons ago for a Council meeting, and he'll be sorry to have missed you. He's very well. He and the Fourth Flotilla are out somewhere past Cetes but where exactly I don't know."

Apollo did. Both First and Fourth were playing decoy, and he thought that it was very unlikely that his father wouldn't know that. The crafty old beggar was the most senior commander in the Fleet, after all, and Adama didn't cultivate the Supreme Commander's friendship solely because of the old man's wit and venom. And, of course, Adama was a member of the Council of Twelve, albeit a semi-detached one. Adama had to know. He wondered if Adama knew that this terrible predicament was all Apollo's fault. Mostly, he wondered what his religious, moral father thought of the dilemma and if Adama was glad to be out of it all. Apollo wished he was out of it too.

All he said, was, giving the topic a deft twist, "I was kind of hoping that he'd be the one to do this job I mentioned, but it's within Fifth Flotilla's operational area. So I get to brief the Great Cain tomorrow, God help me."

"Ah, Cain."

It was all she said, but Apollo knew that his mother was about as fond of Cain as he was. She had only tolerated him with as much seeming complacence as she had partly because Cain and Adama went back to Academy days together. But mostly she had put up with Cain because she had been fond of Cain's dead wife.

"I wrote to him when you told me about Aunt Bethany, but I never got an answer. I wasn't expecting one."

"Beth was a very good friend." Ila looked momentarily older, her grief obvious. "It wasn't a good death, Appy."

Apollo forbore to object to this revival of the childhood diminutive that he hated: she was genuinely upset and grieving. "Are any of them good?"

"Some are quieter and quicker than others. She was in a lot of pain and she took a long time to die. At least Cain and Sheba took some compassionate leave to be with her. Poor Sheba. She was closer to her mother than I realised, and Beth's death was hard on her."

"Were you there?" Apollo couldn't help the surprise. The Cain family were Gemonese, with their main home on their native planet. "I hadn't realised that."

"Yes. I wanted to spend some time there with Beth before the end. I was very fond of her. She was, I think, the closest friend I had."

Apollo was touched to see that this time the tiny scrap of a handkerchief was dabbing at tears that couldn't be laughed at, that weren't for teasing. "I liked her, too."

Ila dabbed carefully. "Sheba was very controlled, poor child, until it was over. I think she was glad I was there. The Lords know that Cain wasn't much use to her."

His mother had never liked Cain, he knew that. She wasn't particularly fond of Sheba, either, except that she was Beth's daughter and Ila tried for her friend's sake. But even not being very fond, Ila would have been kind. She tended to save her more cynical moments to share with Apollo, although he wasn't entirely sure why.

"I can't imagine him being good in that sort of crisis. Nothing to shoot at, and that's the only emotional response I think he's capable of."

Ila shook her head. "It wasn't that so much. He was home with Bethany for the last three sectars she was alive. I heard that he was very quick to find some consolation. I don't know if Beth knew. She said nothing to me, but she wasn't stupid. Sheba certainly knew. A socialator, Sheba said, and not much older than Sheba herself. I didn't see the woman for myself."

"Lords, Cain really wins the prize for sensitivity." Apollo thought about it for a centon, and shrugged. "Socialators are pretty common in Gemonese society aren't they?"

"I don't think that makes it any better."

"Nor do I. All I meant was that it's not unknown there. It's a cultural thing. Sheba's Gemonese. She wouldn't shocked by the mere idea of a socialator the way that Thenie would be, for instance. I don't think she'll let it get in the way of being Cain's daughter. She'll blame the socialator, probably. As far as she was concerned, her father can do no wrong."

"Not a complaint you or Zac suffer from." Ila's smile was rueful.

"True," agreed Apollo. "And how is my terminally annoying younger brother?"

Ila's smile became maternally proud. "Top of his classes in almost every subject. If he keeps this up, he's going to graduate with some of the highest scores in the Academy's history."

Apollo smiled. "He's just doing it to annoy Dad."

"I know, darling."

"He's doing it because Dad doesn't expect him to do well. Dad expects him to waste his time and be an undisciplined nuisance, and he's told him so."

"Not in so many words, of course."

"Of course, but sometimes Zac needs the so many words to get the message." Apollo shook his head. "The machiavellian bastard."

"Zac? I can assure you he was born in legal wedlock. And given it was seven yahrens after you, you'd better believe it."

"Not Zac. Dad. He's finally learning how to deal with Zac. Took him long enough."

"But not without prompting," said Ila. They looked at each other and laughed.

"You are a very clever woman, Mamma, as well as the most beautiful one I know. How's Thenie getting on?"

"Very well, too. She's almost finished her 'Prentice Yahren and your father says she's shaped up well, if a little too inclined to take things too seriously. Well, you know Athena. Your father's made a bit of an effort to look after her. She was making some undesirable friendships, apparently."

"Undesirable friendships? Good lord, you don't mean someone not quite our class?" Apollo laughed. "I think he'd keep her in purdah if he could. What age was he born in?"

"He took fright, anyway. She sees quite a lot of your father now, of course. Off duty as well, I mean."

"And she still worships him? There is no accounting for it."

"Yes she does, and the Lords know that the poor man needs respect from at least one of his children. Frankly, she's revelling in the attention. I've no doubt she'll outgrow it eventually." Ila smiled. "Your turn. How's Rosie?"

"Fine, according to her last letter. I got that last secton and she was just off on a job, so no chance of meeting up, unfortunately." He kept his tone light. They hadn't seen each other for a yahren and with no immediate prospect of meeting, Rosie's letters were getting sisterly again. It was inevitable, and in some ways he was glad, but at the same time he missed the Rosie who'd become, most unexpectedly, the only girl to straighten him out. He loved Rosie, he missed Rosie, but he most definitely didn't want to Seal with her. The galling thing was that he knew Rosie loved him, that Rosie missed him, but he thought that she didn't want to Seal with him either. There was no future in it, and she was drifting away

"That's a real shame. I like that girl, Apollo. So does your father."

"Even if I was inclined to do something about it, that sort of statement is likely to make me do a Zac on you both."

Ila sighed. "No, I didn't think that anything would come of it. Joss?"

"Joss is... well, Joss. Last I heard, he's still fluttering from one pretty boy to the next one, trying to find the one he wants. I'll try and see him if I'm home long enough. I left a message with his answering service to tell him I was here. He'll be at the Kobolian today."

"Joss," said Apollo's mother, with cool detachment, "is a fool. He had you, and he was stupid enough to let you go. Why did you put up with it for so long?"

"Love?"

"Folly."

Grateful for her generous silence about the one ex-lover he couldn't talk about, Apollo smiled sadly. "Is there a difference?"





25 Quartus 6490
Strategy Unit Laboratory, Colonial Military Headquarters

"You're late."

"And it's nice to see you, too, after all this time." Apollo pulled a stool up the bench where Felix was working. "I dropped in to see Mamma for a centar or two."

"Ah, your mother. Am I allowed to be in love with her?"

Apollo shrugged. "Don't see why not, but you and a lot of others may have to form an orderly queue and I should warn you that Dad, unsurprisingly, is a careful and jealous husband."

"I don't do competition, but give her my regards." Felix pushed aside the equipment he had been adjusting. They stared at each other for a centon. "I know what you want."

"Do you?"

Felix looked at him steadily. "To know if it's true. I wasn't joking, Apollo."

"Oh fuck," said Apollo.

"We had to be sure. Now we are sure."

Apollo shivered, feeling suddenly very cold. "Viable?"

"No, we didn't get that far. It would be yahrens before we could get that far, if ever. But it is possible, yes. It's all possible. Everything you thought about is possible."

After a very long silence, Felix reached for a datapad. "I couldn't put much of the detail, even into encrypted messages. I'll take you through it all now."

"I don't think I want to know."

"You and me both, but what choice do we have?" Felix's expression was sympathetic. "You weren't going back home for dinner, were you?"

"I'd thought about it." Apollo straightened up. "But I guess I can tell her I won't make it."

"Oh, you might make it," said Felix. "But I can guarantee you won't want to eat dinner or be able to keep it down if you do."