Galactica’s Blue squadron came aboard Columbia
late the next day, its twenty vipers preceded by ten shuttle loads of equipment, ground
crewmen, and personal effects. The last viper to land was Apollo’s. Colonel Akamas,
the executive officer of the Columbia, was in the hangar to greet Apollo as he
climbed out of his viper.“Welcome aboard,” Akamas said, offering his hand.
“The rest of your vipers, equipment, and personnel are embarked.”Apollo was glad that Adama insisted all squadrons regularly practice transferal and squadron commanders keep the necessary orders for such operations updated. It had made the relatively rare occurrence go more smoothly than might have been expected. Returning the executive officer’s grip, Apollo realized that Akamas could scarcely be ten yahrens older than him, but was already a full colonel and an exec. From what he’d heard, Akamas’ had not been a promotion by influence. Like Kronus, he had started as enlisted crew, with no advantage of family or education to aid him. Fortunately, his talent had been discovered early by Cain, and he had been put on the path that had led him here. Apollo thought that there was possibly some hint of arrogance in the man’s typically Sagitaran features, but considering how he’d come up in the fleet, such an attitude might not be entirely unjustified.
“We’re glad to be here,” Apollo said. “It’s
always a pleasure to work with the Columbia.” There had always been respect
between the command crews of the Columbia and Galactica; ever since the
two ships had been assigned together as elements of the Third Fleet they had made a habit
of close teamwork not often seen in the notoriously competitive atmosphere of the Colonial
Fleet.Akamas wore his dark blue command uniform in the style the Columbia’s
officer habitually wore it, with the tunic tucked in and combat boots. He unclipped his
computron from his belt, glanced at the display, and said, “Looking over your roster,
I am somewhat disappointed to see that Lieutenant Starbuck is not listed. I was looking
forward to meeting him and seeing if he lives up to his reputation.”Apollo smiled. “Sorry, he’s been seconded to Red squadron
for a time. I had no idea stories traveled so far.”“You’d be surprised. One of our navigators recently
transferred to the Galactica. Captain Noday, do you know her?”“She was a class behind me at the Command Academy,” Apollo
said shortly.“You don’t like her,” Akamas observed.“Not especially, no.”“Be that as it may, there has been no shortage of the most
interesting stories.”“Starbuck’s reputation is exaggerated.”“It would have to be,” Akamas agreed. “I was merely
curious to find out how much of it is. Your flight and ground crews will be quartered on
beta deck in Alpha bay,” Akamas said, returning to business as they headed for the
turbolifts. “You’ll be on the ’day’ duty rotation. Our crew is helping
your people get moved in. We have quarters for you in officer’s country, of course.
One thing, Captain.”“Sir?”“You might want to have a talk with your personnel. Our crew is predominantly Sagitaran, and your people need to remember that. Our ways are not necessarily Caprican ways or, Sagan forbid, Scorpian ways, if you have any of those in your unit. I don’t believe that you or I, or, for that matter, Commander Aeneas want any bodies to turn up in the corridors. No fights over what Capricans regard as our cretinous religion, our obsolete political system, or whatever.”
Especially whatever, Apollo thought, remembering
Starbuck’s comments back aboard the Galactica, though he was a little
offended that Akamas thought his crew needed to be lectured to. But he said equably,
“I’ll see to it.”“Good.” They had reached the lifts and as they waited for
a car, Akamas asked, “I was wondering if you knew any of our squadron
commanders.”“I’ve worked with all of them, I think, and I’ve met
your Group Commander, Colonel Sark, but I only know one of them at all well. Captain
Miriam and I were in the same class at the Command Academy.”“I see,” Akamas commented politely. He looked over at
Apollo, did a not very well concealed double take, then his normal composure reasserted
itself. “I do see indeed,” he murmured.“Excuse me, sir?”“Nothing, nothing,” Akamas assured him, with what looked
to Apollo like an amused smile. “Thinking aloud. A bad habit of mine. I have
several.” Apollo didn’t doubt it.The officer’s quarters were located in the forward section of
the battlestar, on the decks below the bridge Akamas ushered Apollo into his assigned
quarters, turned on the lights, and showed him around. “Your gear has already been
brought up.”“Very nice,” Apollo said, adding, “I hope you
didn’t move anyone out to make room for me.”“Not necessary. Columbia was designed as a flagship
and has extra quarters for staff personnel. I’ll leave you to get moved in, Captain.
Your squadron will have the rest of today and tomorrow off to give them time to settle in.
There will be a staff briefing at 0900 in the briefing room on beta deck forward, and the
Group Commander will have your duty assignments for you then. Any questions you may have,
contact me or Colonel Arkelokos—he’s the second—or Colonel Sark. And
remember that the interior layout of this ship is considerably different from the Galactica,
so you’ll want to check the deck diagrams before you go anywhere.”“Thank you, sir.”“Good evening, Captain,” Akamas replied, and let himself
out.Apollo busied himself for a few centons stowing his gear and
exploring his quarters more closely. They consisted of two rooms, a day cabin and a
sleeping cabin, plus a private bathroom, similar to but slightly larger than his quarters
aboard the Galactica. Unlike the plain gray walls of the older ship, these rooms
were decorated in restrained Sagitaran style that concealed the metal bulkheads under
complexly patterned earthtone paints and hand-woven decorative hangings. The quarters had
the further advantage of being on the outside of the ship; there were oval ports in both
living and sleeping cabins and through them he could see lying out beyond the Columbia
the distant speck that was the Solaria, in close formation as they moved towards
the warp portal that would take them out-system.When he was finished he prudently referred to the ship’s deck
diagrams, as the exec had suggested, and then headed for the officer’s mess. Although
as a squadron commander and strike leader he was entitled to eat in the senior
officer’s mess he didn’t really feel like changing into the requisite blue
uniform and in any case thought it better for morale and discipline to usually eat with
his pilots.Although it was somewhat past the usual eating time, the room was
fairly well populated by officers from the Columbia and, he noticed, a few of his own
pilots sitting together at a table by themselves. Collecting a tray of bland-looking
Sagitaran food-some kind of bean preparation on rice with triangular mealcakes spotted
around the perimeter of the plate-he was about to go sit with them when he spotted someone
he knew.“I thought you were going on leave,” Apollo said as he set
his tray on the table and settled into the empty chair beside Miriam.She looked over at him, seeming, he thought, at least vaguely
pleased to see him, though she was difficult to read at the best of times. She was wearing
the black striker-pilot flight suit, festooned with all of its little tags and hooks for
the attachment of the combat armor usually worn over it on missions, on her upper arm the Columbia’s
insignia, a hand gripping a bronze short sword, point-up, on a blood red backdrop. The
patch glinted with the tiny pins the Sagitarans had adopted to indicate what honors
they’d won; they did not approve of the Caprican custom of not wearing their
decorations and so had adopted this method of bypassing the regulation on their
Caprican-designed uniforms. Apollo did not have to know what the almost microscopic
designs meant; he knew her record, and very few people had two Star Clusters to their
credit, not to mention the Wound Badge in gold and a plethora of other honors and service
awards. Miriam did not stand out in a crowd but Apollo had always found her attractive.
Her dark brown eyes and slightly olive skin were Sagitaran, but the lighter highlights in
her brown curls and relative lightness of complexion indicated an admixture of offworld
blood, in her case a grandfather who had been Gemonese.“I was going on leave,” Miriam replied dryly, “but my
replacement got himself killed almost immediately—smeared himself and his weapons
officer all over the bombing range on Taura—so here I am until they find another one.
Someone decent, I hope.”She turned her attention back to her food and the paperwork spread
over the table in front of her. After a centon Apollo ventured, “I thought you’d
send some holos or something. After you had the baby. What’s her name again?”“Amala, and I haven’t had time, elsewise I would have.
Like I said, I ended up back here almost instantaneously.”“Do you have any pictures of her with you?”“Not necessary. She’s here.”Apollo blinked. “On board?”“Of course on board. Who’s to take care of her otherwise?
And,” she added, forestalling any objections he might have made and was in fact in
the process of framing, “she’s safer here than in the Colonies, I’m sure of
that. Too much…fractiousness going on.”“Well, we’re here to put a stop to that.”“Amen. And I am glad to see you,” she added, a little more
warmly. “I just have a lot to think of. My squadron, my baby…that cretin
I’m sealed to….”“Miriam, there has to be a way out of that.”
“On Sagitara, to break a seal requires mutual agreement, except under certain
circumstances. I would, he wouldn’t. I give him far too much political cachet, which
is the way it works on our planet. I’ve given him plenty of reason, but he
doesn’t care what I do.”Apollo felt himself flush. Obviously not, he thought,
thinking back several months. Changing the subject, he asked, “Could I drop by and
see her?”“Yes, please do,” Miriam said, slightly distracted by
something in her paperwork. “And do me a favor.”“Anything.”With a sharp nod of her head she indicated the Galactica
pilots sitting at the table behind them. “Tell your lot to shut up,” she said
bluntly. “I’m really tired of hearing how hard they have it, patrolling the
blasted Blue Drifts, when my squadron just got back from another tour on Borallus.
‘Popping gooks,’ I believe they referred to it, like it’s a furlon.
I’ll take the Cylons over the nomen any day, thank you. I just don’t want them
mouthing off like that in the hearing of our crew. We’ve taken a lot of casualties
down there, and there’s bound to be a….”They both turned, startled by the sound of a fist driving into
someone’s jaw.“…fight,” Miriam concluded as a mixture of Columbia
and Galactica pilots got into it. “In the bloody officer’s mess.
They’re not even drunk.”“Great way to start a mission.”“There’s nothing like teamwork,” Miriam agreed.“Should we call Security?”“Not unless you want the lot of them rotting in the brig when
we need them. Just wade in there and stop them, there’s a good lad,” she
suggested, patting him on the shoulder.“Thanks, Miriam,” he said, but did so.Once he’d gotten the struggling pilots pulled apart and sorted
out, he lined his pilots up while Miriam did the same with the involved Columbia
crewmen. Apollo looked from one side to the other and requested calmly, “All right, I
would like to know who threw the first punch.”“You heard the Captain,” Miriam added to the Columbia
pilots, noticing that they and not the Blue Squadron personnel were beginning to exchange
guilty looks. “Well?”One of them stepped forward. “My lady,” he reported to
Miriam, “I did.”Miriam shot a glance at Apollo; if he was pleased he was concealing
it nicely. “Lieutenant Tyson, I believe?”“Beta squadron, my lady.”“There was a reason for this?”Tyson glared defiantly at the Blue squadron pilots standing opposite
him and said, “My lady, they were making comments.”“About combat, religion, or something else?”“Something else, my lady.”“I am not going to ask what the comment was. I’ve heard
them all anyway. We all have.” To Apollo, but directing her comments to his pilots,
she said, “It would be well if your crew were more tolerant of the cultural
differences between us. We are going to be working and possibly fighting together and I do
not expect this kind of thing to happen again, or I will put your pilots—and
mine—on report. I hope that will prove unnecessary.”“It will, Captain,” Apollo assured her. He turned to his
pilots and said, “I personally do not give a good frack who sleeps with who.
It’s not important. How they fight is important, and I expect all of you to at least
imitate that attitude as well as you can. Is that clear?” he asked his pilots.The cluster of Blue squadron pilots replied, somewhat reluctantly,
“Yes, sir.”“As you were, then.”The two captains sat back down, Apollo regarding the remains of his
food without much interest. Miriam noticed him picking at it with his fork and asked,
“Are you all right?”“That was uncalled for,” Apollo said, a motion of his head
indicating the fight that had broken out behind them. “They know Sagitarans have
different ways. Hades, every society in the Colonies has different ways. I think it’s
interesting. And they’re usually not intolerant like that. I was pretty upset when
your exec suggested I give them a lecture about it, but now I wish I had.”“They’re nervous. We all are. We don’t know what
we’re going in to, or what the future might hold. It’s a very troubling
time.”Apollo lowered his voice so no one could overhear and said, “He
hasn’t said anything to me, but I don’t think my father believes in this peace
business.”“You know mine doesn’t. What about you?”Pushing his food around some more, Apollo said, “I don’t
know. Sagan knows I’d like it to be true.”“Who wouldn’t?”“You?”She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Apollo, but I don’t
believe it. Not for one centon.”“I hear your husband has a different view.”“So I am told. It is not one I share. Would you like to come
and see Amala? It’s time I fed her in any case.”“Sure, let’s go.”