"So Say We All"
Billions were dead. Billions had died in a matter of minutes. It was entirely possible that every single human being other than the few that were in the ships floating around were dead. It was too large a number to think about, Dualla thought as she crunched more navigation numbers at her console. She couldn't imagine a billion people, let alone a billion dead people.
" Specialist Dualla, you should get some rest," a heavy voice chimed from nearby. Who it was, the commander, Col. Tighe, maybe Gaeta... She didn't know. She didn't care either. Her eyes felt like someone had blasted grit into them and she had been on her feet in the CIC since the crisis began.
Crisis, she thought as she made her way to the deck corridor, it was not the right word for billions of dead people. Someone would find a phrase, she was sure of that, but who, that was the question. It was unlikely that the chaos of escape had spared any poets.
Dualla stopped in her tracks. She turned, and half trotted, half ran down the hall, barely able to mutter excuses as she pushed by the tired crew people who were going about their business. Finally, she ended up in crew quarters, in one of the few recreation areas that didn't get a lot of use. It was an anachronism, a waste of space even on the Galactica. Technology had passed the room by, and the few people who visited it knew that it only existed because the Galactica was due for decommissioning and renovating was more costly than just retiring.
But she liked having a library on board. Reading off a hand held pad hurt her eyes and it felt like work. Holding a book, curling up in a comfortable chair and reading, perhaps with the gentle pitter pat of rain falling on the roof, that was how a book was supposed to be read. There was no charm in looking up a book in a computer catalog. The best books, the best stories, were found in dusty racked shelves lit only by the sun streaming through glass that was so old, waves and impurities could be seen. The Galactica's library was certainly not in that league but she had found many good friends in the small collection of books.
A billion people was unimaginable, but looking at the small dusty room loaded to the ceiling with what were probably the only books in the entire ship, if not the entire fleet, Dualla felt her heart break. She almost immediately felt a wave of guilt. The people were more important, of course they were more important than books,... but there would be no more books for a very long time. Not until they reached Earth. If they reached Earth.
She walked over the shelves. None of the books that had inspired her to join the military were in the library. The wild tales of space adventure and aliens that had empires were for children and had no place in a library for adults. That held true for the ship's computer storage as well. If one of the other ships didn't have a good collection, it was possible that all of the literature she had grown up with was gone. " Hey...." She jumped at the sound, and turned. It was Billy, and he was standing in the doorway of the library, his face concerned. " I saw you.... I called but you didn't seem to hear me...." He looked nervous. She almost smiled. He reminded her of almost every young boy she had known in school. However, it wasn't enough to stop her bad mood. While Billy looked young enough to still be in school, she knew he was an aide to the Minister of Education, now the President of the Council, and that wasn't a position that was given to a boy, even now. And she wasn't ready to speak of what she had been thinking.
" I just wanted to be alone, " she said harshly.
He nodded but he didn't leave. Instead he walked into the small room and looked around. " I didn't know the ship had a library."
"It's not much of one, " Dualla said after a moment, " But I guess we won't have much need for poetry and stories for a while." The bitter tone couldn't be taken from her voice. She didn't care.
Much to her surprise, Billy shook his head. " You don't believe that. "
" No, " she said after a moment, " but its so little compared to what was lost. And you and I both know that its hardly a priority. Lives are more important."
He went to one of the shelves and picked out a book. " I think I read this in school. I know the computers on Colonial One have a good selection too. Its not all lost. And there will be more."
" Written by who?" She shouted that, not caring that he recoiled. " The people that were saved... what are the odds that any of them are writers? Or artists? Or musicians? Who do you think is going to take over from the artists we lost? Who is going to write the stories?"
" Maybe it'll be you." He set the book down and looked at her, his eyes twinkling. " You look shocked."
" I just....never thought of it that way." She hadn't, and his words opened an entirely new vista of thought.
He shrugged. " I never thought I would be the right hand man of the president. People are going to have to take on new jobs. If there are no artists, no writers, no musicians, people will step up. Why shouldn't one of them be you?" The announcement system blared overhead and he stepped to the door. " That's my shuttle. I have to go back to the president's ship."
She put her hand on his shoulder. Suddenly she wanted to be with someone, to be with Billy. She drew him in to her and kissed him. " You can catch the next shuttle."
Billions were dead. Billions had died in a matter of minutes. It was entirely possible that every single human being other than the few that were in the ships floating around were dead. It was too large a number to think about, Dualla thought as she crunched more navigation numbers at her console. She couldn't imagine a billion people, let alone a billion dead people.
" Specialist Dualla, you should get some rest," a heavy voice chimed from nearby. Who it was, the commander, Col. Tighe, maybe Gaeta... She didn't know. She didn't care either. Her eyes felt like someone had blasted grit into them and she had been on her feet in the CIC since the crisis began.
Crisis, she thought as she made her way to the deck corridor, it was not the right word for billions of dead people. Someone would find a phrase, she was sure of that, but who, that was the question. It was unlikely that the chaos of escape had spared any poets.
Dualla stopped in her tracks. She turned, and half trotted, half ran down the hall, barely able to mutter excuses as she pushed by the tired crew people who were going about their business. Finally, she ended up in crew quarters, in one of the few recreation areas that didn't get a lot of use. It was an anachronism, a waste of space even on the Galactica. Technology had passed the room by, and the few people who visited it knew that it only existed because the Galactica was due for decommissioning and renovating was more costly than just retiring.
But she liked having a library on board. Reading off a hand held pad hurt her eyes and it felt like work. Holding a book, curling up in a comfortable chair and reading, perhaps with the gentle pitter pat of rain falling on the roof, that was how a book was supposed to be read. There was no charm in looking up a book in a computer catalog. The best books, the best stories, were found in dusty racked shelves lit only by the sun streaming through glass that was so old, waves and impurities could be seen. The Galactica's library was certainly not in that league but she had found many good friends in the small collection of books.
A billion people was unimaginable, but looking at the small dusty room loaded to the ceiling with what were probably the only books in the entire ship, if not the entire fleet, Dualla felt her heart break. She almost immediately felt a wave of guilt. The people were more important, of course they were more important than books,... but there would be no more books for a very long time. Not until they reached Earth. If they reached Earth.
She walked over the shelves. None of the books that had inspired her to join the military were in the library. The wild tales of space adventure and aliens that had empires were for children and had no place in a library for adults. That held true for the ship's computer storage as well. If one of the other ships didn't have a good collection, it was possible that all of the literature she had grown up with was gone. " Hey...." She jumped at the sound, and turned. It was Billy, and he was standing in the doorway of the library, his face concerned. " I saw you.... I called but you didn't seem to hear me...." He looked nervous. She almost smiled. He reminded her of almost every young boy she had known in school. However, it wasn't enough to stop her bad mood. While Billy looked young enough to still be in school, she knew he was an aide to the Minister of Education, now the President of the Council, and that wasn't a position that was given to a boy, even now. And she wasn't ready to speak of what she had been thinking.
" I just wanted to be alone, " she said harshly.
He nodded but he didn't leave. Instead he walked into the small room and looked around. " I didn't know the ship had a library."
"It's not much of one, " Dualla said after a moment, " But I guess we won't have much need for poetry and stories for a while." The bitter tone couldn't be taken from her voice. She didn't care.
Much to her surprise, Billy shook his head. " You don't believe that. "
" No, " she said after a moment, " but its so little compared to what was lost. And you and I both know that its hardly a priority. Lives are more important."
He went to one of the shelves and picked out a book. " I think I read this in school. I know the computers on Colonial One have a good selection too. Its not all lost. And there will be more."
" Written by who?" She shouted that, not caring that he recoiled. " The people that were saved... what are the odds that any of them are writers? Or artists? Or musicians? Who do you think is going to take over from the artists we lost? Who is going to write the stories?"
" Maybe it'll be you." He set the book down and looked at her, his eyes twinkling. " You look shocked."
" I just....never thought of it that way." She hadn't, and his words opened an entirely new vista of thought.
He shrugged. " I never thought I would be the right hand man of the president. People are going to have to take on new jobs. If there are no artists, no writers, no musicians, people will step up. Why shouldn't one of them be you?" The announcement system blared overhead and he stepped to the door. " That's my shuttle. I have to go back to the president's ship."
She put her hand on his shoulder. Suddenly she wanted to be with someone, to be with Billy. She drew him in to her and kissed him. " You can catch the next shuttle."