Part 5 – The Escape

Baltar sat in his cell, contemplating the latest turn of events. There were new prisoners aboard the Prison Barge, from a planet called Terra. Their ship was supposedly being kept in the Galactica’s landing bay. He needed a plan, a good plan. He had already convinced these men from Terra to escape. Together, they would flee to the planet Lunar Seven, well ahead of the Galactica. Perhaps he could even enter into treaty negotiations between this Eastern Alliance and the Cylon Empire. Such a combined force would surely force Adama to surrender…

“Exercise period,” one of the guards barked at him as the doors to his cell slid open. Exercise was the last thing Baltar wanted. He wanted time to think.

With a resigned sigh, he walked through the door and followed the guard to a large, open room. The room contained various pieces of exercise and sports equipment for the prisoners to use under careful watch. Baltar touched none of it, instead deciding to use the running circle painted around the edge of the room. He took a slow walk, all the while watching to see if there was a pattern to the guards’ movements.

How could Loraio help him escape? And how could he get word to the boy? He needed to get on the Galactica, and that was also where the Terran ship was.

Borellian Nomen walked into the exercise room. Baltar stopped walking momentarily and stared at them. Borellian Nomen. Baltar had been hearing rumors of the Nomen escaping since they had come aboard. The Nomen, if anyone, would have a way of helping them escape from their cells. The problem would be convincing them to join the plan.

Shortly thereafter, another guard indicated his exercise centar was over. Baltar walked back to his cell. While he was waiting for the guard to open the doors, he was surprised by Commander Adama, Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck walking through the corridor. They said nothing to him, not even acknowledging his presence. ‘That will soon change, my old friend,’ he thought to himself. ‘Soon you will be forced to deal with me as a negotiator once again.’

He heard their footsteps trail off as they disappeared down the corridor in the direction of the Terran prisoners.

Baltar waited patiently, knowing they would have to return this way to their shuttle.

Suddenly there was shouting from the way the Commander had walked. Baltar couldn’t make out the words, but there was definitely some sort of commotion.

Footsteps came closer and closer until Baltar saw the three men walking past him.

“Problems, Commander?” he taunted with a laugh. Adama was a military man, not cut out for dealing with bureauticians, like he was.

One of the guards walked towards his cell.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re in such a good mood today Baltar,” Reese said sarcastically. From the rumors Baltar had heard, Reese had been a Fleet Security Guard once, until he allowed a ship he was responsible for to be flown out of a secured landing bay under his watch. Following that incident, he had been busted back to working on the Prison Barge. “You have mess duty again.”

Baltar grimaced, but he knew this was his chance to make contact with the Nomen. He would not tell them of his plans aboard the Galactica just yet. No, all he needed was to get there and make contact with his son. The rest would simply fall into place.

Commander Adama had a headache. He had two, actually, if you counted the Council as a continuing headache. He believed in the strength of his government, he honestly and truly did or he would not have spent most of his life defending it. That was why when Apollo and Starbuck voiced such vehement opposition to the Council’s edicts, he was forced to defend them.

He did not like, nor agree with, the edicts. However, he was bound by law the laws he had fought to preserve for so long to abide by them. Maybe he had been too harsh on Apollo and Starbuck. They meant well; they simply wanted to support their Commander. A good Commander inspired loyalty, but Adama was beginning to wonder if it was more blind faith than loyalty that his warriors felt for him.

With a sigh, he pulled up the latest maintenance reports on his ship. They were recovering well from the suicide runs on the Galactica by the Cylons. In another two or three sectons, they would be as good as before. He looked at the recommendations for furloughs for the maintenance crew and the time readouts.

‘Who is this Trev?’ he wondered as he looked at the man’s work report. He seemed to work at least twelve to sixteen centars of each day since he had come aboard the Galactica. Adama looked at the printouts of the areas he had worked on. Each was running efficiently, some better than before. All of his superiors’ reports on him were excellent.

Adama decided to recommend him for a commendation, even though it was so unusual to do that for someone in service on the Galactica for such a short time. He also decided to furlough the man for at least a secton, and give him an open travel pass to the Rising Star. The man needed to find something else to do besides maintenance work. Adama’s eyes turned to the personal profile of the man, and he was shocked to see just how young he actually was. ‘He’s younger than Zac,’ he thought, feeling a slight pang at the thought of his youngest child. And he was caring for a child too!

Adama signed the order putting the man on furlough. He was due back on the bridge, with Siress Tinia monitoring him, in less than thirty centons.

Trev was lying in his bunk, trying to sleep, but not being too successful at it. He had worked a sixteen centar shift. Normal people would sleep ten or twelve centars after a shift like that. Not Trev, though. He was lying awake, afraid to go to sleep; afraid of the dreams that accompanied sleep more and more often. Logic told him not to be afraid of his dreams; they could not hurt him. It did not help, however, when he woke up shouting and bathed in sweat.

“Trev!”

His head jerked quickly towards the sound of his name being called. What was wrong now? Surely they would not call him for an emergency after he had just been on for sixteen centars.

“Right here,” he said slowly, getting up from the bunk.

One of the maintenance supervisors was waiting for him, looking at a clipboard. He held out a sheet of paper to Trev. “New orders. You’re on furlough for a secton. And you have an open-ended travel pass for the entire fleet. Enjoy.”

Trev looked at the orders, unable to believe what he saw. “Langley, what’s going on?” he asked as he walked over to where the other worker was watching the IFB.

Langley took the orders from him. “Lucky man. A secton’s furlough? I’d be heading for the Rising Star with enough cubits to really enjoy myself. What’s wrong? Do you need a loan?”

“I have plenty of cubits on credit to me, Langley. I don’t want a furlough, that’s what’s wrong.”

Irritability had crept into Trev’s voice. Langley knew the young man was overworked and needed a break. He had been snapping at people lately. Other maintenance workers had been taken aback by the ferocity of his dreams. Sure, the survivors of the Destruction all had nightmares from time to time. Trev’s were an exception, though no one had confronted him yet. Langley himself had suggested the furlough to his supervisor. Hopefully, a secton of R&R would help calm the situation.

“Trev, you’ve been working like a daggit. Both here and on the Orion. You need a vacation. Take it. Spend some time on the Rising Star and enjoy yourself. Sleep a few days. Spend time with that little girl you’re so fond of. We’ll get by without you, you know.”

Langley was not being any help. Trev sat at his bunk and stared at the orders. The only solace, the only respite he found from his waking nightmare was in his work. He could focus his mind on one thing, and his pain and guilt would disappear. The last thing he wanted was time off, with nothing else to think about except what was nagging at him in his nightmares. A whole secton with nothing to do…

He sighed, resigned to the fact that there wasn’t anything he could do about the situation, and decided that he would see what the Rising Star was like tonight, since he was unable to sleep anyway. Maybe he could find some nice civilian clothing for himself and Lira.

Baltar was about to be returned to his cell, along with the Nomen, when he had the luck to hear that the Eastern Alliance prisoners were to be moved to the holding grid for transfer.

“Oh fine. Why didn’t they tell us that when we had them on Beta Deck?” the guard named Reese questioned with disgust. “All right. Leiter, you and your men hold it. Everyone else, into your cells.”

At that moment, one of the Nomen collapsed on the ground.

“What’s wrong with him?” another guard fervently asked as he drew his weapon.

Another of the Nomen collapsed as Reese drew his own weapon.

“All of you, into your cells! Now!”

Baltar had expected less of a response from Reese, but he seemed to be coolly handling the situation… so far. Hopefully, the Nomen would be able to take on the two armed guards by themselves. Obediently, he and the other prisoners returned to their cells as the third Nomen collapsed.

“What’s going on?” A third guard was running to their location.

“Lock it up!” Reese ordered the other two guards. “Keep your lasers on them, it might be a trick.” Slowly he bent down to one of the Nomen, to check if he was still alive. “He’s dead. No pulse.”

He went to check on a second Nomen while one of the other guards checked on the third. Reese looked at him and he shook his head. “None of them has a pulse… Get a med-tech down hear on the double!” he ordered. “Breathing gear, heart stimulator, the works.”

As one of the guards turned to hear the ship’s comm-system, Baltar heard one word: Strike!

Instantly, there was chaos in the corridor as the three Nomen sprang back to life, quickly subduing their three captors.

“Good Lord!” Baltar was amazed by the scene he had just witnessed. Somewhere, deep inside of him, he had just gained respect for these Nomen. They were true warriors, not in any need of lasers or other weaponry. They fought with their hands and minds… and won. “Captivity has slowed our reflexes. They will improve now that we are free,” one of the Nomen informed him as he opened Baltar’s cell.

As he left the cell, Baltar just stared at the men in awe of what he had just seen. They needed to secure the ship, and to find the Eastern Alliance prisoners. He was walking through the corridor when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Next step?” the Borellian Nomen who seemed to be their leader asked. His name was Maga, if Baltar remembered correctly.

“First we destroy the communications center, then take the landing bay. The shuttle will be arriving at any moment.”

“And then?” Commandant Leiter joined them.

“And then a little trip to the Galactica.”

“Galactica?” Leiter questioned. “You said we were heading for Lunar Seven.”

“We are… after we settle some debts and take possession of your ship.”

“My men and I are not going to get involved in any personal vendetta. We must return to our homeland.”

“We won’t get to the edge of the fleet without being challenged and the shuttle is no match for vipers. We must disable the Galactica, or, at the very least, take many hostages. Trust me, my friend, I know what I’m doing.”

The other Nomen had returned with the sashes and laser boles which had been seized upon their imprisonment. Leiter’s Enforcers had also rearmed themselves. Leiter took two of his crew to the communications center, while Baltar and the Nomen went to meet the shuttle in the landing bay.

It was all falling into place…

Trev walked into Landing Bay Alpha of the Galactica to wait for a shuttle to arrive which would take him to the Rising Star. The Landing Bay was quiet, even for this early centar. Usually, there would be some shuttles arriving or leaving, and maintenance crews working on the vipers. No one was present except for a few Council Security Officers.

“Travel pass?” one of them asked. Trev showed his orders. “Everything seems to be in order. You have to wait in that Waiting Room over there. The Council is coming down to meet a high-security shuttle and we need this bay secured.”

“Sure.” Trev nodded. He walked into a room that was closed off from the rest of the bay with a clear window overlooking the bay. Normally, he imagined, this was where people sat and waited for the various shuttles that came and went. Right now, it was empty.

Trev turned on the IFB monitor that was in the room. They were showing an old motion-picture detailing a battle fought against the Cylons more than 500 yahren ago. Trev had seen it. Since there was nothing else to do, he sat in one of the chairs and watched. His tiredness from all of his hours of work began to overtake him, and soon he began to doze off.

The shuttle approached the Galactica Landing Bay. Everything was going according to plan. Baltar was pleased with his impending freedom. Soon he would have his son and be in a position to demand compliance from Adama. With the power of the Cylons and this Eastern Alliance behind him, there would be no way for the Colonials to fight him off.

What could he do with Loraio? The boy had always been of very little use to him. Once again, he found himself wishing Aurelia had survived. With a sigh, he resigned himself to using what tools had been left at his disposal, namely his son. The boy would go with him. After all, he was the only family Loraio had left, and once his identity was known, his presence in the Fleet would no longer be tolerated. The boy would have no choice.

Baltar walked back to where the Commandant and his crew were seated on the shuttle. “The micron the hatch opens, you and your men will eliminate all guards, and take as many hostages as possible.”

“Don’t worry,” Commandant Leiter assured him. “We are very good at such operations.”

“I’m sure you are.” Baltar walked over to the leader of the Nomen. “Maga, you and your Nomen follow me to the lift. We can be on the Bridge in a matter of microns.”

“And once we control the Bridge?” Maga was still skeptical of this human’s ability to carry out the plan. His need for vengeance was a detriment, though he understood perfectly. A blood hunt was what it was called in the Nomen’s own code.

“We control the Galactica.”

The shuttle landed without incident. Commandant Leiter’s men ran from the shuttle, lasers firing. They encircled the few people waiting on the arrival of the shuttle in the Landing Bay. Quickly Baltar and the Nomen pushed through the crowd, which consisted largely of members of the Council. Valuable hostages, for sure.

The four of them stepped onto the lift as chaos reigned throughout the Bay. The last glimpse Baltar had before the bay was out of sight was of the Councilors being herded into the shuttle under protest. The doors to the lift opened up on the level with the Bridge. Baltar and the Nomen started to get off but were startled by laser fire as they scanned the corridor. They fired back, Baltar with a laser he had lifted from Lieutenant Boomer, one of the shuttle pilots, and the Nomen with their laser boles.

Unsure of just how many were firing at them, Baltar ordered the Nomen to shut the doors. The hostages would have to do to get them safely beyond the range of the fleet.

Adama had received word from Apollo that there was something wrong in Landing Bay Alpha. Specifically, there were unknown forces firing weapons around the lifts that led to the bay.

“Launce Red Squadron,” Adama ordered as he looked at readouts of the battlestar being brought up on the monitor by Omega. “Tell them to prevent any ship from launching without my permission. Have warrior security cover all hatches above, below, and around Landing Bay Alpha. Get me Colonel Tigh up here at once.”

“What’s happened?” Siress Tinia questioned.

Adama walked over to where she stood, shadowing Adama and the bridge officer. “Those Alliance Representatives, as you call them, have just captured Alpha Landing Bay and the Council.”

For a micron Siress Tinia was speechless, processing what had just been told her.

“Baltar and the Nomen are with them,” Apollo announced as he joined the Commander on the bridge.

“If it hadn’t been for Colonel Tigh’s warning, they would have been here now instead of us,” Starbuck added.

Adama turned back to Omega. “Where is Colonel Tigh?”

“Reporting for duty sir,” he said as he walked onto the bridge, glaring at Siress Tinia.

“Commander,” Omega drew attention away from the tense moment. “Red Squadron launched. Scan now coming in from the shuttle.”

“Transfer to console.”

“Yes sir.”

Both Colonel Tigh and Siress Tinia joined him at the console. Baltar’s smiling face appeared, with Sheba in the foreground and Nomen standing behind him.

“Adama… You look haggard.”

“Baltar, put down your arms and surrender,” he said patiently, as if dealing with a small child misbehaving on the playground. “There’s no way you can escape.”

Baltar laughed at him. “You’re wonderful. I have a blade to your throat… And you give orders.”

Sire Domra was brought before the screen. “They’re attaching solonite charges to the outer hull. They’ll kill us all if you don’t
do what he says. I-“

Visibly shaken, the Sire was cut off by the Nomen taking him to the back of the shuttle. Siress Tinia looked at Adama. Her calm demeanor was beginning to break.

“Now, here are your orders, Commander. Release the two Cylon pilots who flew me here, my Fighter, and the Alliance Destroyer. When my comrades and I are safely aboard our ships, the shuttle will launch, then the destroyer, and finally my fighter. If the shuttle makes any attempt to return before we are in orbit at Lunar Seven, or if we pick up a single pursuing viper on our scanners, I press this little button…” He held up a thermal detonator. “Blow the shuttle and everyone on board into a million pieces.”

“And when you reach Lunar Seven?”

“The shuttle will be free to return.”

“Do you think for one centon I believe you?”

“You don’t have a choice, Adama. If my demands are not followed to the letter within one centar, I’ll kill these hostages one by one in front of you. Beginning with Lieutenant Boomer.”

He brought Boomer in front of the monitor for effect.

“He’ll do it anyway Commander. Do it now while we still-” Boomer was cut-off mid-sentence.

“One centar Adama.” Baltar paused, letting his words sink in. “And I want my son returned to me also.”

“Your son?”

“Loraio. He is aboard the Galactica somewhere, I’ve seen him. I want him brought to me, now!”

“The Destroyer is being moved into the bay,” Tigh informed the Commander a short time later.

“The Cylon Fighter?”

“Already in the Bay.”

“There’s no way of reaching those charges once the shuttle’s launched.” It was more a statement than a question.

“I’m afraid not Sir.”

“Then we have to assault the Bay and diffuse those charges before the shuttle is launched.” Siress Tinia broker her silence.

“Siress Tinia, you don’t seem -” Adama stopped as her the meaning of her words sunk into him. “What did you say?”

“That we must assault the Bay before the shuttle is launched. Commander, I’m not stupid. Baltar has no intentions of releasing those hostages. He will either force them to land on Lunar Seven or blow them apart, once he is free. The only question is when to attack and how to maximize our chance for success.”

Tigh was suspicious of her sudden change in attitude, though he was grateful for it. He had never liked bureaticians, and never would. Adama was much better at dealing with matters political than him.

“Agreed. We must hit them while they’re transferring from the shuttle to their ships. They’ll be out in the open. Our people will be inside the shuttle. Is everyone in position?”

“The assault teams are ready to hit the Bay on three sides simultaneously.” Tigh brought up a picture from one of the corridors near the Landing Bay which showed Warriors gathering near one of the entrances.

“And the demolition experts?”

“They feel they can disarm the charges in thirty microns, once they reach them.”

“And what are the odds of them accomplishing that before Baltar can set them off?” Siress Tinia queried.

“That depends on how stunned he is by the attack. He will have to take cover or be caught in the explosion himself,” Tigh explained.

“The odds, Colonel,” Adama prodded. Tinia was actually on their side, and Adama preferred to keep it that way.

Tigh had the computer do a series of calculations. “Computer estimates seventy to thirty, in Baltar’s favor.”

Adama glanced at Tinia. Neither of them liked those odds, but felt there was no other choice at this point.

“What of this son he spoke of?” Tinia asked.

Adama shook his head. “There is no Loraio registered anywhere in the Fleet, based on the census data, never mind on the Galactica.”

“Baltar was an important figure in Colonial politics prior to the Destruction of our world. Surely you – or someone else we can contact – would know who his son is.”

“I’m sorry Tinia. I do not know Baltar’s son. I do know of a daughter that he had, but I can’t even recall myself ever hearing that he had a son prior to a few microns ago. As for anyone else who might know who this son is or where we could locate him, chances are the majority of them are on that shuttle.”

“He said he saw him.”

Adama frowned. “Yes, that does bother me somewhat. The only times he has been on the Galactica was when we arrested him and briefly during Lieutenant Starbuck’s trial. Perhaps he saw someone who looked like his son and thinks it’s him.”

“With Baltar, anything is possible,” Tigh agreed.

“In any case, I will not broadcast this incident to the entire Fleet, asking for someone who may or may not exist to turn himself in to us. This matter will be investigated once we resolve the current crisis.”

Trev was startled awake by laser fire in the Landing Bay behind him. Instinctively, he dove for cover behind another row of chairs.

A shuttle had landed in the Bay. Armed men, whom Trev had never seen before, were herding people aboard. There were some Council Security Officers in the group, but as a whole there wasn’t anyone that he recognized.

He saw him. Baltar. His father, running across the Bay towards the lift Trev had used a short time ago to get here. Three Borellian Nomen followed him. Leave it to Baltar to get that scourge to follow him…

No one had looked to the Waiting Area, though there were still some of the unknown forces standing guard outside of the shuttle. The clear window overlooking he Landing Bay gave the guards an easy view of the room. Was the glass one-way? Trev doubted it. If Trev made any sudden movements, he was sure he would be seen. Backing up slowly, Trev shut off the IFB broadcast. Slowly he made his way to the room controllers. If he turned off the lights, it might draw the guards’ attention to him. He kept his eyes trained on the guards. The shielded visors on their helmets hid their eyes from him. For all he knew, they could be looking right at him. He would have to wait for their heads to be turned in another direction.

A centon later, his opportunity arrived. Apparently, someone was entering the Landing Bay on the lift. While the guards’ attention was drawn that way, Trev turned off the lights.

Hidden in the darkness, he watched his father return with the Nomen. They were talking, but the words didn’t penetrate the walls of the room. The group disappeared back into the shuttle.

Trev breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been discovered, but knew he was not safe yet. Neither were the people his father was holding prisoner aboard the shuttle.

Sitting in the darkness, he contemplated his next move. Guards were still in the Landing Bay, preventing him from accessing the lift. He could stay here, and let the situation play itself out. Either his father would be stopped, or the shuttle would launch. In each scenario, he needn’t get involved.

He wondered if his conscience would let him take that option.

Baltar and Commandant Leiter exited the shuttle as his men returned from placing the solonite charges on the shuttle.

“The charges are in place,” Leiter confirmed.

“And so is your Destroyer.” Baltar pointed, indicating where the Eastern Alliance ship was situated across the bay from them.

“This Commander Adama amazes me. To think he’d let us go to save a few lives.”

“He won’t.” Behind the two men, Maga was finally speaking up.

“What do you mean ‘He won’t’? He has no choice,” Baltar retorted skeptically. Though the Nomen had proven their value in helping escape from the Prison Barge, he doubted they knew anything of military strategy or the value of holding hostages. They would sooner slaughter their way through an army and die than take hostages and leave intact.

“If you believe that, you’re a bigger fool than I thought,” Maga replied, no inflection at all in his voice. Baltar’s cockiness momentarily left him and his face darkened slightly. “He will attack us as we move to our ships; when the shuttle is unguarded.”

“Precisely what I would do,” Leiter mused, giving credence to the Nomen’s theory.

“He won’t risk slaughtering the hostages,” Baltar tried to reassure them, refusing to believe that there was a point of this escape that he might have overlooked.

“Baltar, don’t you think he knows you have no intention of letting them go?” Maga again made his point in an even tone, further unnerving Baltar.

“Well, of course I’ll let them go. Once we’re safe.” He could not believe that he had been that transparent.

“Whether you intend to or not isn’t the problem. Our escape depends on whether Adama believes you will,” Leiter was beginning to believe the Nomen were better strategists than this man he had chosen to bring to the Eastern Alliance as a possible ally.

“What do we do if he doesn’t?” Baltar was now growing concerned – for his own life.

“Prepare. To Die.” The Nomen walked away from the two men.

Leiter also turned away from Baltar.

“He has to believe me,” Baltar swore under his breath. “He has to.”

Trev was watching the whole scene from his so-far safe haven in the Waiting Area. His gut was gnawing at him more and more, telling him he had to do something. It was his father out there!

“What can I do? There’s no way I can stop him,” he muttered to himself.

He thought of all of the time he had spent wondering if he had missed the signs of what his father had been up to all of these years; when he was plotting the betrayal of the humans to the Cylons. He had learned more about his father in the last sectars than he had learned about him in all of the yahrens of his life.

Could he stop this all by himself? He doubted it, if he wanted to survive at the same time. His father would try to change his mind to his way of thinking, he was sure of that. Would he accomplish it?

The memories of the early morning of the Destruction flooded his mind, making him feel the pain of his shattered life and his friends’ shattered lives all over again. Of Broder and the others at the bottom of the hill they had been celebrating on… Of Mazer not wanting to keep on living… Of Zoyal and his mother losing their lives in the house while he cradled Lira outside…

Lira.

Most of all he did not want to leave Lira. He did not want to go anywhere with Baltar. He did not want to end up on the Prison Barge.

He did not want to die.

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