ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS

PART FOUR

Miriam’s quarters were a few doors down from the ones he’d been assigned. Inside, one of Miriam’s female friends was sitting on the couch reading a crystal and keeping watch. She looked up as they entered and said, “She just woke up, Miriam.”
Miriam lifted the wriggling bundle out of the crib and said, “Thanks for watching her, Klymene.”
The woman, tall, darkly beautiful in a Sagitaran way, dressed in a command blue uniform, explained to Apollo, “We let her have Amala back now and then.”
Miriam said, by way of introduction, “This is Colonel Klymene, our master navigator. This is Captain Apollo, strike commander of the Galactica.”
Colonel Klymene smiled happily and inquired, “Is this the gentleman Noday refers to as ‘Captain Appalling?’”
“It is indeed.”
“An honor,” Klymene decided. “I will see you later, Miriam. And you, Captain,” she added, extending her hand to show that the joke was not ill meant.
Apollo, not over-thrilled to be reminded of Noday’s sarcastic nickname for him, responded in kind. Klymene leaned in to shake his hand, blinked at him in surprise, then forced her smile back on and went out the door. It hissed shut behind her.
Apollo watched her go, wondering at her reaction. Then he turned back to Miriam and said, “I thought I’d heard the last of that one yahrens ago.”
“Well, sometimes we all sit around and reminisce about our Academy days and I suppose it came up once.”
“Wonderful.”
“Besides,” Miriam continued, checking the condition of her daughter’s diaper, “you were appalling.”
He winced. “That bad?”
Miriam considered, then said, “We had our centons. Usually not at the same time, though. Usually not even the same day.”
“Ugh. I got better.”
“Quite true.”
“Well, can I see her?” Apollo asked, holding out his hands.
“Certainly. Here you are. Don’t drop her,” she added unnecessarily as Apollo accepted the baby from her.
“Miriam, I am not going to drop her. I have held babies before. I have even changed diapers. Not that I’m volunteering,” he added. Amala was little more than a month old and small even for her age. She settled into his arms without fuss, though she was watching Miriam the entire time. Her sparse hair was black, her skin a very light olive, even fairer than Miriam’s. Amala turned her head and looked up at him curiously.
Apollo leaned closer and she took a stab at grabbing for his nose. Her eyes were startlingly green, like tiny jewels. He looked back up at Miriam, who was watching with an expectant expression on her face. He didn’t want to know, but had to. “She’s not….”
“Yes she is. Come on, Apollo, you can count. You must have wondered, didn’t you?”
“Honestly, I didn’t. I…didn’t hear the exact date anyway.” Amala squirmed impatiently, waving her tiny hands in his face, clearly more interested in the prospect of food than in him. “You didn’t…you didn’t plan this?”
“And how cold-blooded do you think I am? Of course I didn’t plan it. You have my word on that.”
I have to sit down, Apollo thought, and did so, rather abruptly. Amala made no vocal sounds of disapproval though she seemed to glare up at him. What on Kobol am I going to tell my father? Uh, Father, guess what…you have a granddaughter. Or maybe the humorous approach…Father, you and Commander Diomedes have something in common….
“I’m sorry,” said Miriam. “I shouldn’t have dumped it on you like this. But there doesn’t seem any…decent way of telling a person.”
“No, no, it’s…all right. Just…sudden,” he decided.
Sitting down beside him, she said, “I’d tried before. I had two miscarriages, with no physical cause the life officers could find. You know how I feel about my sealing…the idea is appalling, to think I could be unconsciously taking it out on something so helpless, but there seemed no other….”
“Don’t even think that,” Apollo said. “There must have been a reason. Something they couldn’t find.”
“Maybe. So, when we met on Orion…the timing did turn out to be fortuitous, or unfortunate, depending on your point of view. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not,” Apollo said. “I suppose I should take it as a compliment.”
“You should. You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had…and a good man. A good person.”
“I may even get used to the idea,” Apollo said, gently stroking Amala’s hair. “Um, does your father know?”
“Of course he does.”
“What does he think?”
“I think he’s rather pleased. Besides, her lineage is amazing. Do you realize she’s descended from no fewer than three of the Lords of Kobol?”
“She does look…very aristocratic.”
“Not hardly. She’s not very pretty just yet. Once she gets some more hair, possibly. Hopefully she’ll look something like Athena, that would be nice.”
“Um…what does your…uh, husband think?” Apollo ventured.
Miriam looked up at the deckhead in disgust. “Apollo, the man is unconscious. He says she looks like his grandfather. She doesn’t look a thing like his grandfather,” she added. “More like mine, really, since he was Gemonese. Of course he’s only seen her twice. Too damn busy politicking as usual.” Amala started to fuss and Miriam reached for her. “Here, she needs to be fed. You don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” He sat back, light-headed.
As she undid her flight suit, she noticed the lack of color in Apollo’s face and admitted, “Like I said, I shouldn’t have dumped it on you like that. I was damned if I could figure out a way to tell you, though.”
“I wonder if Starbuck ever has this problem,” Apollo muttered.
“Who’s this?” Miriam asked, offering Amala a breast.
“A friend of mine. Loves the ladies. Leaves them, too.”
“He sounds like a rogue.”
“He is, but I love him like a brother,” Apollo said. “He’s a good man, in his own way.”
Miriam smiled. “Everyone needs friends and you’ve never made them easily. I’m glad to hear you have this one.”
Apollo watched her for a centon, then he said, “You look tired.”
“We’ve been flying a lot. Practice practice practice, in the aircraft, in the simulators. It never used to hit me this hard. Part of it is being out of shape. The other…I must be getting old or something, because I just feel dead in the mornings after all that pulling Gs. Used to be fun.”
“Maybe there won’t be a need for it anymore.”
Miriam smiled sadly. “You’ve always been an optimist.”
“What do you think we’re going to find out there?”
“Just what we’ve always found where the Cylons are involved-adversity and death.”
“What if this peace initiative is real?” he pressed.
“Apollo, be realistic. It can’t be. And it’s so well timed, suspiciously so. The Colonies are in turmoil over the war. I was on Aquaria, six months ago, and I was spit on. Because I was wearing a uniform. And I could almost understand how those people felt. This war has gone on for nearly a thousand yahrens. It’s insane. How many lives have been lost, how much progress sacrificed, and how many opportunities to win squandered? Apollo, if I thought this was real, if I thought there could be peace with the Cylons, I would be the first to celebrate. But I don’t believe it. I’m sorry.”
After a centon he shook his head and said, “I think it could be real.”
“We disagree on almost everything,” Miriam said equably. “That might as well not change now. But,” she added, an edge coming into her voice, “I am not going to bet my life—or hers—on the off chance that the Cylons have suffered some kind of programming glitch that’s turned them into ravening peace-lovers.”

“Blue squadron will be part of our Alpha strike wing, along with Beta and Delta squadrons, both of them viper squadrons, and Gamma squadron, which is a striker squadron,” Colonel Sark, the Group Commander of the Columbia, informed the gathering of squadron commanders the next morning in the Columbia’s briefing room. “Commander of Alpha wing is Captain Lebedos, who is also CO of Beta squadron; Captain Dolon is commander of Delta, and Captain Miriam is commander of Gamma. Colonel Dirce is commander of Beta strike wing and Epsilon squadron, which is our second striker squadron; Captain Aleta is commander of Omega viper squadron. Captain Apollo is commander of Blue squadron; I take it we’ve all met him? I see we have…very well, Alpha wing is on the ‘day’ duty rotation, Captain Apollo, so your crewmen shouldn’t have any problems adjusting.”
“I don’t think there will be any problems,” Apollo said.
“The revised duty schedule is in front of you; no changes for Beta wing, of course, but Alpha wing will now have two viper squadrons on standby at any one time, since Delta squadron will be on a split schedule. Any vipers needed for patrols or probes will be taken from whichever squadron is up on the rotation, including Blue. I anticipate we will have no difficulty working together,” he concluded, looking around the briefing table at the assembled officers. “Any questions? No? Very well, dismissed.”
As the officers rose and began filing out of the briefing room, Apollo asked Miriam, “What’s on your schedule today?”
“Right now I have a meeting with my maintenance officer. Then simulator sessions. If you’re not busy, feel free to stop by; that can be interesting.”
“I’ll be there.”
Outside in the corridor, Apollo found Boomer waiting for him.
“Any news?” Boomer asked, falling into step beside him.
“We’re on the standard rotation, day schedule. Nothing unusual.”
“Glad to hear that.”
“How is everyone settling in?”
“The usual griping, nothing serious,” said Boomer.
“Nothing you can’t keep a lid on?”
“No trouble, sir.”
“Good,” Apollo said. He relied on Boomer’s steadiness and influence with the pilots more than he sometimes cared to admit. Boomer was going to be a good squadron commander someday, someday soon, Apollo thought. He had all the right instincts.
Boomer cleared his throat and began, sounding somewhat apologetic, “Far be it from me to criticize, sir….”
“What?”
They stopped at the lift. Boomer glanced up and down the corridor, then he said, “I’d at least like to know where I can find you. Sir.”
Apollo sighed. “I’ll see you do.”
“Sorry, sir. I didn’t want to imply anything…too improper.”
He’s enjoying this, thought Apollo. “It’s someone I’ve known for a long time…it’s hard to explain.”
“These things usually are,” Boomer said diplomatically.
And this one more than usual, Apollo thought. We don’t agree on anything…sexually, on the other hand…and that used to be awful too, when we were at the Academy. I know exactly where Noday got that nickname Captain Appalling. We were young…. He shook his head and followed Boomer into the elevator.
“Gathering wool, sir?” Boomer asked.
“Quite a lot,” Apollo agreed as the lift doors snapped shut.

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