“I think I’ve got my bearings now,” Starbuck announced, after they had traveled some distance from the pod chamber. “The elevator’s that way.”
“So’s that bunch of centurions,” Apollo shouted.
“Oh, damn!”
Pushing the dazed men in uniform against a wall and forcing one of them to hold the inert form of Muffit Two, Apollo and Starbuck took cover behind a pair of jutting wall-rocks as the Cylons opened fire. Laser fire blasted chunks of rock from the wall. Starbuck and Apollo returned the fire, and two centurions fell.
“Do you have another weapon?” Cassiopeia, who had crawled up to Starbuck, said blearily. “I can handle a laser pistol. One of my many—”
Starbuck started to tell her to get back, she was still too drugged. Instead, he said, “See if one of those zombies has a pistol in his holster.”
He pointed to the three uniformed men, then turned and shot at the centurions blocking the corridor that led to the elevator. His and Apollo’s shots kept finding targets, and soon there was a pile of Cylons with nobody fighting back.
“Damn!” Cassiopeia said, unsteadily pointing the pistol she’d liberated down the corridor. “It’s a fake. These guys are carrying fake pistols!”
“I’m not surprised. Let’s get out of here. That shootout’s got to draw some curious intruders.”
Before he waved the group on, he touched the wall beside him. It was illuminated with a dim, but increasing, glow.
“Apollo!” Starbuck said. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yeah. With all this Tylium starting to burn, this could grow into a fire that could turn this whole bloody planet into a bomb.”
“Um, let’s tiptoe out of here, huh? This way, c’mon.”
“Are you sure?”
“This is no time for a vote. Let’s move.”
A lone Cylon leaped out at them from behind the pile of corpses. He released one shot toward Starbuck which ignited more rock. Starbuck reacted quickly and killed the ambushing alien.
Maneuvering around the corpses, they traveled down another short corridor and into the lobby containing the elevator bank.
“What’d I tell ya, Captain. We’re saved.”
The door to the elevator that Apollo and Starbuck had tampered with opened suddenly, and a bemused-looking Boomer stepped out. He smiled broadly when he saw that Starbuck and Apollo were standing across the lobby from him.
“Hey, guys,” he said. “What’s going on? You guys hotwire this elevator? I looked all over—”
He was interrupted by laser fire emerging from the darkness of a corridor to his left. His weapon was immediately drawn and he went into a crouch as he fired at the source of the attack. Boomer’s fire proved a cover by which Apollo and Starbuck could lead Cassiopeia, Boxey, and the three men across the open area. When they reached the elevator and herded their people in, Starbuck shouted, “We might get trapped in that thing!”
“Does it matter?” Apollo shouted back. “If those fires combine and spread and explode the Tylium, it doesn’t matter where we are. Get in. C’mon, Boomer!”
Starbuck joined Boomer to allow him extra firepower in backing into the elevator. As Starbuck leaped into the elevator between the leading edges of the closing doors, a centurion appeared just in front of the car and took dead aim on the young lieutenant. The doors closed just in time but flamed briefly as the centurion’s shot hit them dead center.
Serina had searched throughout the whole room for Boxey, and was rapidly becoming frantic. She tried to obtain Colonel Tigh’s help but the commander’s aide, intent on a small electronic device concealed in his hand, waved her away. She didn’t know what to do. If Apollo would only return, she thought, he would know what to do.
On the podium Uri had brought the crowd to several cheers and a couple of ovations. He had reached the main point of his speech.
“And so I implore you all to join with me in the spirit of this great communion and put your faith in me and go to the Cylons. For I tell you that this night will be remembered as the foundation upon which the floor of peace was laid, to last for eternity. I give you the hope that—”
His speech was stopped abruptly by the charging of Apollo, Starbuck, and Boomer from the elevator. Apollo pointed his gun toward the ceiling and fired. Everyone in the room turned toward him.
“Everyone begin to move quickly and orderly towards the exits. That is an order.”
“Stand where you are,” Uri shouted from the podium. “I am in charge here.”
Before Apollo could respond, a group of Centurions had joined the Ovions at the entranceway and begun firing. Everyone began scrambling for cover.
“Listen to Apollo!” Uri hollered. “Do what he says. He’s in charge here.”
Boomer and Starbuck wiped out the entire contingent of guards at one doorway, and Uri was the first to hightail it through to the outside. The rest of Red squadron had produced weapons and laser fire crisscrossed in all directions. Voices screamed and lights, hit by random shots, began to sizzle and go out.
Serina dodged around tables and fallen chairs toward the elevator bank.
“Boxey! Boxey!” she hollered.
She discovered the boy cowering behind Apollo. She picked him up in her arms.
“Over that way!” Apollo cried. “That entrance is clear now!”
He led Serina and Boxey through the archway. Outside, rain stung their faces. Beams from Cylon helmets cut through the darkness. Apollo took Serina and Boxey to cover behind the grog fountain.
All around and inside the casino the battle raged.
“We haven’t enough firepower,” Apollo said to Serina. “There were too many fake guns among that fake Blue squadron.”
“What fake Blue squadron?”
Apollo explained about the strange imposters in the squadron’s uniforms.
“I don’t know what was in my father’s mind when—”
Over the hill near the fountain, a landram appeared, with Lieutenant Jolly mounted on a gun turret. The fat lieutenant started blasting away, and a group of centurions began to fall. Jolly had zeroed in on them by the light of their helmet beams.
Telling Serina to stay under cover, Apollo ran to the landram on which Jolly sat. Another two landrams had appeared, and their gunners were firing at centurions and Ovions.
“Assemble squadron!!” Apollo cried, as he reached the landram and scrambled aboard.
“Where in all that’s holy did you come from, Jolly?”
“We’re here courtesy of Commander Adama, Captain.”
“But why—”
“He sent the landrams to cover for you guys in case any fighting broke out in the casino. Clairvoyant your father is, Captain. He also ordered us to collect Red squadron and shuttle them back to the Galactica. He’s expecting a fight, he says.”
“Red? Why just Red?”
Jolly smiled as he fired off another round, dropping several of the helmeted aliens.
“Blue squadron didn’t get to go to the party, sir. Except for Boomer and Starbuck, who had to play hero with you down here at the councilor’s little celebration. Guess all three of you had to go so Uri wouldn’t get wise he didn’t have all the military personnel at the party.”
“Well, if the Blues didn’t go the party, who were those oddballs wearing their uniforms?”
“Anybody the commander could find up in the fleet to fill the uniforms. You shoulda seen the guy who got mine.”
“I think I did, Jolly.”
The shooting suddenly stopped. The Ovions were scattering, while the centurions were beating a retreat away from the casino.
“What are those damn Cylons up to now?” Apollo said.
“I’m not sure. Just before hell broke loose, I received a report that air activity had been tracked by scanner on the Galactica. They thought it might be Cylon fighters. Those guys might be returning to their ships.”
“Then we better get to ours and damn fast!”
Apollo ju
mped off the landram. From the main entranceway, the rest of the guests—civilians, warriors, and civilians in warrior uniforms—scrambled out toward the landrams. The authentic warriors were being assembled by Starbuck and Boomer. Apollo joined them, explained as succinctly as he could what Jolly had told him.
“Red Squadron’s got to go on ahead in the first landram. We may not have much time. Starbuck, you and Boomer take care of the civilians. Round them up and get them to the shuttles.”
“But Captain,” Starbuck complained, “I want to get to my ship, too.”
“Do what you’re ordered, bucko. Get up there fast enough and I’ll see if I can save you a couple of Cylon stragglers for target practice.”
“Thanks a bunch, Captain.”
Apollo gestured for the Red Squadron to follow him to the first landram. Boomer and Starbuck began, with Cassiopeia’s help, to calm the panicking civilians and get them organized. Tigh joined Red Squadron. He was holding his left arm, which hung limp at his side.
“Are you all right?” Apollo asked. “A Cylon stray shot?”
“Yeah, but I got at least five of them first.”
Serina, Boxey at her side, waited by the landram.
“They’ll take you to the shuttles,” Apollo said. “I’m sorry but—”
“We’ll be fine,” Serina said. “Get going.”
Athena had noticed that the token force left on the bridge had grown to a full crew since the alert had gone out, but she had been too busy to wonder about it.
“Form scan positive,” she announced as the information came up on her screen. “Multiple three-passenger vehicles.”
“Centurion attack craft then,” Adama said. Athena nodded.
“So they spring their trap. Recall all our personnel from Carillon.”
“Evacuation activity has already begun,” said a communications officer. “I just received a report. They had some kind of set-to down there, and Plan R is in effect.” He listened for a moment longer. “Tigh reports that Red squadron has reached the shuttle and taken off.”
“Good.”
Athena, puzzled, looked toward her father.
“You knew the Cylon attack craft would be here?” she asked.
“Yes. Call General Quarters.”
The claxon sounded immediately, as if an officer’s finger had been placed on the alarm button awaiting the order. The screen showing the pilot’s ready room switched on, showing countless warriors scrambling away from card games, reading, and sleeping.
“Father,” Athena cried, amazed. “Where are all the warriors coming from? A full squadron is answering the call. There aren’t that many pilots left on board.”
“There are. I couldn’t let you in on it, couldn’t tell anyone who was not integral to the plan. Sorry, Athena.”
On the launch board, squares of light flashed on, indicating each ship warming up in launch cribs. When all the lights had flashed on, Adama bellowed, “Launch when ready!”
“I see,” Athena said. “You kept some pilots back. An entire squadron?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly what I would have done!”
Adama smiled affectionately.
“I’m sure,” he said.
They watched the launch through the starfield. The vipers, flying in pre-battle formation, were an awesome sight, and Adama felt confidence rise up in him. Each of the vipers peeled off and, as ordered, flew through the flight corridor the three heroes had formed with their exploit, and went out single file to confront the approaching enemy. A bridge officer reported that the Cylon task force was overwhelming, three entire flights.
“Our squadron won’t stand a chance,” Athena protested.
“They won’t be alone for long,” Adama said. “The others are on their way and, using the contingency battle plan, they’ll be joining the first squadron.”
“It may be too late. Where the hell are they?”
“Shuttle approaching landing deck,” a bridge officer said.
“That soon enough for you, Athena?” Adama remarked.
But Athena was too busy staring at the screens showing the launching bay, and the pilots getting into battle gear on the run, to listen closely to what her father had said.
The rain was falling harder in the fields where the shuttles sat. Boomer and Starbuck hustled the panicky people off the land rams and up the gangways to each ready ship. A cold breeze drove the rain uncomfortably into their faces.
“I hate milk runs,” Starbuck shouted.
“Look,” Boomer cautioned, “each job’s important, okay?”
“Ah, that sounds like one of the commander’s lectures.”
Cassiopeia, who had been helping people off the last landram, reported that everybody was off the vehicles. Her eyes showed she was alert now. Starbuck hollered at the last stragglers to get a move on.
“Boomer,” he said, “soon as we dock these shuttles, we head for the launch cribs. I want a piece of the action.”
The rain lessened abruptly and Starbuck’s attention was caught by a ship sitting on the slope of a nearby hill.
“What’s that?” he said, pointing toward the ship.
Boomer looked.
“That’s one of the Ovion Tylium freighters. It was supposed to be sent to—”
“Is it carrying a full load?”
“Well, yeah, must be. Why?”
“I’m taking it up.”
“But that stuff’s lethal. One attack and they could blow you out of the sky.”
“Great. That’s the way I always wanted to go. You take care of the shuttles, I’ll—”
“I want to go with you.”
“You’ve got your job, Boomer. Do it.”
“But what do you know about flying an Ovion ship?”
“I can fly anything, Boom-Boom.”
“You can fly your head into the clouds, that’s what you can do.”
“Goodbye, Boomer.”
Starbuck started toward the tanker. Suddenly he was aware of Cassiopeia running beside him.
“What in hell are you doing?” he roared.
“I’m going with you.”
“But—”
“You can use me. I’ll explain later.”
Everybody on the bridge tensed as Athena announced, “First defense wing about to make contact with the attack force.”
As the defense wing was revealed on the main console screen, Adama was struck by how pitifully small they looked against the wall of the Cylon armada.
“By all that’s holy….” one of the wing’s pilots yelled over his com.
One of the lead Cylon ships went into a roll and fired as it flew by a viper. The viper took the hit full on, and exploded. Almost concurrently two more viper ships were wiped out by Cylons. Greenbean’s voice resounded through the bridge.
“There’re too many of them. Roll out, hit ’em from the sides!”
The Colonial vipers peeled off, but they looked too thinly spread to do much damage.
“Where’s the damn Red squadron?” Greenbean hollered.
Turning back to the screen, he saw two more vipers exploding.
“So much for trying to hit ’em from the sides,” he shouted angrily.
“Where are they?” Adama said.
Then his son’s voice came through the comline.
“Revved and ready for takeoff.”
The launch lights came on.
“Your wing ready, Jolly?” Apollo said.
“Ready, sir.”
“Let’s go.”
Apollo’s Red squadron streaked across the sky and into the minefield corridor.
“The shuttles are arriving, sir,” a bridge officer said. “Reports show other ships rising up from the surface of Carillon.”
“More Cylons?” Athena said.
“Running visual idents now.”
On the comline Greenbean shouted, “Yaahoooo,” as he observed the arrival of Apollo’s squadron.
In the freighter’s pilot compartment, Cass
iopeia made Starbuck’s jaw drop open. The tall young socialator obviously knew the ropes when it came to the bizarre technology of an Ovion tanker. Devices that seemed meaningless to Starbuck were duck soup for her. She started throwing levers and pressing buttons before she even settled herself in the copilot’s seat.
“You been on one of these before, Cassie?” Starbuck asked.
“My dad, for the brief times I was allowed to see him, piloted a freighter. And you call me Cassie again and I’ll see to it personally this ship blows up.”
The ship began to rumble all around them.
“You want to take us up?” Starbuck said. “You seem to—”
“I’d do it, but I’m afraid I’ll have to admit reluctantly that your instincts would serve us better just now.”
Starbuck strapped himself into the pilot’s seat and tried to get the feel of the strange ship from its rattling vibrations.
“Okay to lift off?” he asked Cassiopeia.
She smiled and raised an eyebrow. Studying the equipment, she replied.
“Okay. Lift off.”
Cassiopeia had done her part of the job so well that they took flight just behind the shuttles. But the tanker was slower and too weighted down. It could not keep up. Starbuck watched the shuttles disappear through the clouds, leaving a brief red glow on their ominous black surfaces. It was a product of his imagination, he knew, but he thought he could sense the volatile liquid Tylium sloshing against the sides of its heavy containers. One good jarring shock and it was goodbye, bucko. Starbuck would be happy to deposit this payload upon the deck of the Galactica where experts could tenderly transport it to safe cargoholds.
“Scanner shows Cylon craft approaching us just below the level of the cloud cover,” Starbuck said.
“Are the shuttles in trouble?” Cassiopeia asked.
“Nope. They seemed to have gotten off in time, or else the Cylons don’t give a hoot about a pair of surface-to-air shuttlecrafts.”
“They seem to give a hoot about us.”
“I’ll have to try evasion tactics. Hold on!”
Starbuck leveled off the tanker and headed it north, over the Ovion casino and Tylium mine and underneath the Cylon ships revealed by the scanner. The Cylons did not alter their direction, but instead started up through the clouds. Starbuck looked below. Some Ovions had emerged from the ground and were running around frantically. Starbuck wondered what their running amok was all about, when he heard a deep rumble from the ground area. It came through loud and clear over the rattle of the tanker.
[Battlestar Galactica Classic] - Battlestar Galactica Page 23
