Battlestar Galactica 10 - The Long Patrol

by Glen A. Larson

  A new BATTLESTAR GALACTICA adventure!

  Starbuck discovers one of the strangest

  worlds in the galaxy when he sets out in

  an unarmed Viper for the prison planet Proteus.

  There he encounters a gorgeous Ambrosa smuggler,

  a headstrong computer named Cora, and a fleet

  of Cylon warships with deadly orders from their

  Imperious Leader—Destroy the Galactica!

  PRISON PLANET

  Starbuck leaned back against the metal bars of his cell. The door swung open with a raspy squeak.

  "What the heck . . ." he said as he stumbled into the corridor.

  "Get back inside," Assault called anxiously. "Close your door, mate."

  "They don't like us to do that," said Adulteress, frowning through her bars at him.

  "You mean that none of these cells are locked?"

  "They haven't worked in generations," answered Assault.

  Starbuck was dumbfounded. "Why the heck, if you don't mind my asking, do you stay here then?"

  "Tradition," answered Forger.

  Berkley Battlestar Galactica Books

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 2: THE CYLON DEATH MACHINE

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 3: THE TOMBS OF KOBOL

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 4: THE YOUNG WARRIORS

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 5: GALACTICA DISCOVERS EARTH

  by Glen A. Larson and Michael Resnick

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 6: THE LIVING LEGEND

  by Glen A. Larson and Nicholas Yermakov

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 7: WAR OF THE GODS

  by Glen A. Larson and Nicholas Yermakov

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 8: GREETINGS FROM EARTH

  by Glen A. Larson and Ron Goulart

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 9: EXPERIMENT IN TERRA

  by Glen A. Larson and Ron Goulart

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 10: THE LONG PATROL

  by Glen A. Larson and Ron Goulart

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 10:

  THE LONG PATROL

  A Berkley Book / published with

  MCA PUBLISHING, a Division of MCA Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley edition / November 1984

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1984 by MCA PUBLISHING,

  a Division of MCA Inc.

  Cover illustration by David Schleinkofer.

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part,

  by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.

  For information addresss:

  MCA PUBLISHING, a Division of

  MCA Inc.

  100 Universal City Plaza,

  Universal City, California 91608.

  ISBN: 0-425-07105-7

  A BERKELY BOOK ® TM 757,375

  Berkley Books are published by Berkley Publishing Corporation,

  200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

  The name "Berkley" and the stylized "B" with design

  are trademarks belonging to Berkley Publishing Corporation

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  CHAPTER ONE

  Majestically the Galactica moved through the deep blackness of starless space. The gigantic, multi-level vehicle was the greatest fighting ship in the Colonial Fleet, a self-contained world housing thousands.

  The person who oversaw the destiny of those thousands, and of the hundreds in the rest of the rag-tag fleet, was Commander Adama, a broad-shouldered, grey-haired man. He stood on the bridge of the battlestar and gazed out the large observation window into the intense darkness.

  Colonel Tigh approached him. "The sensors indicate," he said, "that we're nearly through the asteroid dust."

  "It's odd," said Adama as he turned away from the dark window. "I feel nervous, as uneasy as a cadet on his first orbit."

  The boy who was standing beside the commander said, "I don't think I'm nervous. But maybe that's because I sort of don't know what's going on exactly."

  Captain Apollo, the boy's father, stepped away from the data panel he'd been studying. Putting his hand on his son's shoulder, he said, "This is what's happening, Boxey. We've left our star system and, when we're through this field of asteroid dust, there'll be a whole new galaxy."

  "A brand new place?"

  "For us, yes. A galaxy nobody in our fleet has ever seen before."

  "Commander," said Tigh, nodding at the wide view window, "we're through."

  Stars were appearing in the silent blackness outside. A sparkle of light here, another there. Soon dozens, then hundreds. And then there were thousands of stars glowing in space, surrounding the Galactica and the fleet.

  Boxey observed, "A heck of a lot of stars."

  "And now that you've seen 'em, nipper," suggested Apollo as he tousled his son's hair, "you'd better turn in. You're already centons past your sleep period."

  "Do I have to? I mean, we're in a new galaxy and all," said Boxey. "This is a terrific educational experi—"

  "Bed."

  The boy glanced toward his grandfather. "Shouldn't I maybe stay up?"

  Assuming a relatively stern look, the commander told him, "I command the fleet, young fellow, but Apollo's your father."

  Shoulders slumping, Boxey said, "Okay, I'll go to bed and miss everything." He began a slow, forlorn exit from the bridge.

  "Seems to me," said Apollo, watching him go, "that you and I used to have similar debates when I was about that age, Dad."

  "You were usually more dramatic," said Adama, smiling. "Quite good at stamping your foot."

  Colonel Tigh rejoined them. "Initial sensor readings are negative," he reported. "No indications of life forms within the first quadrant of this new galaxy."

  "As soon as the rest of the fleet clears the asteroid dust," Adama said, "concentrate all the sensors forward to increase our scanning range."

  "Yes, sir."

  The commander, followed by Apollo, walked over to a console manned by the dark-haired Athena. "If we get a hint of anything out there, we'll have to send out a reconnaissance ship." he said. "And it'll be our new Recon Viper."

  Apollo said, "We've already got a volunteer to pilot the new ship."

  "Who?" inquired the commander.

  "Lieutenant Starbuck," answered the captain, smiling faintly.

  "Starbuck?" said the pretty Athena, sitting up. "I didn't know he ever volunteered for anything."

  "He's got a strong sense of duty," Apollo assured her. "And besides, ever since the Council gave perm
ission to the Scorpios to reopen the Astro Lounge over on the Edena, Starbuck's been trying to raise enough money to get into the place. Father's offered a hundred cubit flight bonus to the first pilot who flies our new Recon Viper."

  "Don't deprecate his volunteering," said the commander. "Bonus or not, the mission may be a long and dangerous one."

  "Far be it from me to suggest my old buddy's mercenary," said Apollo.

  Adama nodded at Athena. "What's Starbuck's status at the moment?"

  She touched a few of the buttons on her console panel. Names of warriors scrolled up the console's display screen. When Starbuck's came up, the crawl ceased.

  Athena tapped the screen with her forefinger. "He's Status Green," she said. "Right now he's on the Rising Star."

  Nodding, Commander Adama said, "Let's hope we don't have to jump him to Status Red until after his dinner." He moved on.

  Athena touched Apollo's arm. "Starbuck asked me to dinner tonight," she said frowning. "But I wanted to be here when we sighted the new galaxy."

  "Little sister, that was probably the right decision."

  "Still, Apollo," she said, "if he's going to go out on a risky job . . . maybe I should've spent the dinner period with the guy."

  "Hey, he's not going to be gone that long." He patted her slim back. "You'll have plenty of other opportunities to fend off his advances."

  "I suppose," she answered, not sounding quite convinced.

  Starbuck forgot to light his cigar.

  Standing at the huge view window in the large dining room of the Rising Star's restaurant, arm around the slender waist of the fair Cassiopeia, he watched as the onetime interstellar liner moved free of the asteroid dust.

  As hundreds of new stars became visible, glittering in the blackness, the patrons of the place exclaimed, murmured, made awed noises.

  "It's exciting," said Cassiopeia. "Like being born into a whole new world. Aren't you excited?"

  He gave his straw-colored hair a scratch. "Well, I'll tell you, Cass," he said, his unlit cigar tilting higher. "Stars and new galaxies and such do thrill me. But for real, unadulterated excitement I prefer the company of lovely ladies. Such as you."

  The young woman's nose wrinkled slightly. "You aren't very poetic."

  "Sure I am," he said. "Want to hear me recite some limericks? There was a—"

  "Spare me," she requested, returning her gaze to the new galaxy that the Galactica and the ships of the fleet were entering.

  Other couples who'd come to the window drifted back to their tables. Starbuck caught the eye of a pink-faced, white-haired waiter standing nearby.

  The waiter eased closer and bowed. "One is reminded of the old days aboard the Rising Star," he confided with a sigh. "Before the war."

  "Before the war?"

  "Back before it interfered with our annual run to Quatora," explained the waiter. "Ah, there was a magnificent cluster. Seven red stars, one blue. Quite a crowd pleaser—fair took one's breath away. Filled one with a blooming sense of awe, if you know what I mean, sir."

  "You obviously," said Cassiopeia, "have a poetic soul."

  The waiter smiled. "One surely likes to think so, miss. After all, to journey through life without a—"

  "What we'd like even more than a poetic soul," cut in Lieutenant Starbuck as he lit his cigar, "is a private dining room."

  Touching his chest, the plump waiter sighed again. "One fears that—"

  "You see," said Starbuck, letting his cigar droop, "I've . . . well, I don't really like to talk about it, but . . . I've got a big mission coming up. Might be a heck of a long time before I get back here for dinner."

  "Ah, one sympathizes, Lieutenant," said the waiter. "Yet, you see, private rooms are reserved six and seven millicentons in advance and so . . . hm."

  Starbuck deftly transferred a gold coin from his hand to that of the waiter. "You'd be doing a good deed," he said.

  "Yes, one can always make an exception for a warrior on his last night." He started to move off. "Right this way, please."

  "Last night?" Starbuck's left eye narrowed. "I don't quite like the way he said that."

  CHAPTER TWO

  The private dining room was small, its walls and ceiling colored a pale blue. The single oval window showed the star field through which they were traveling.

  Cassiopeia asked, "What's all this about a mission?"

  After flicking ashes from the tip of his cigar and grinning across the table at her, Starbuck replied, "Just a routine recon jaunt actually. But I figured if I dramatized it some, we'd get this more intimate—"

  "Don't put on an act for me," the young woman told him. "I have a feeling you really are about to embark on a danger—"

  "Nope. What's dangerous for your average warrior, Cass my love, ain't necessarily so for a member of the Starbuck clan." He took a puff of his stogie. "Let's forget all the perils and hazards that may lie in my path and—"

  "Your bottle of Ambrosa, Lieutenant," said the waiter as he eased unobtrusively into their little room. "One was fortunate to find this in the Rising Star wine cellar, since Ambrosa is as rare as Tilinium or the proverbial—"

  "I appreciate it, too." Starbuck passed him another coin.

  "One is most grateful." He walked backwards toward the doorway. "Buzz when you are ready to order your meal."

  Cassiopeia watched Starbuck opening the Ambrosa container. "What exactly is your mission?"

  "Told you, Cass, a simple recon run."

  She pushed back from the table. "I'd like to freshen up a bit," she said, smiling. "Then I'll be right back."

  Starbuck said, "Every moment apart from you is an eternity."

  "Well, I shouldn't be gone more than four or five eternities."

  The door opened and closed and Starbuck was alone.

  But not for long.

  The door panel whispered open again.

  "Oops!" Starbuck set down the Ambrosa on the white tabletop.

  Athena stepped across the threshold. "I . . . um . . . was looking for you."

  Starbuck's chuckle sounded very boyish to his ears. "Wellsir, that's . . . um . . . nice," he said, watching the door panel slide shut behind her.

  "I thought I'd better tell you that you may go on Red Alert," the dark-haired young woman said while taking a few tentative steps toward the table.

  "Red Alert?" He put down his cigar.

  "You see, Starbuck, I just learned that you'd volunteered for the recon probe," she said, eyes misting slightly. "I mean, you'd asked me to spend your last night with you and—"

  "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

  "Beg pardon?"

  "Never mind."

  "Guess I'm not putting this just right, Starbuck," continued Athena. "The thing is, I really don't want you to be alone. You are alone, aren't you?"

  He popped to his feet, causing the table to rattle, the Ambrosa to gurgle, the two wine glasses to tinkle and the trail of smoke climbing thinly up from his stogie to zigzag. "Alone? Well . . . yes, of course."

  "There are two glasses on the—"

  "Talk about extrasensory perception," he chuckled, gesturing at the little room. "I was sitting here brooding, contemplating the vast panorama of this new galaxy and reflecting on the meaning of life when I got this very strong hunch that someone, someone lovely, was going to join me." He came scooting around the table to grab hold of her elbow. "That's when I ordered a second glass."

  "How much of that Ambrosa have you already had?"

  "Hm? None, not a drop, Athena my love," Starbuck assured her, trying to urge her doorward. "It's just you that intoxicate me. Now, if you'll just trot along with me."

  "Where?"

  "Where?" Starbuck blinked. "Oh, yes, to a private dining room where we can be—"

  "This is a private dining room."

  "Aw, but this one is drafty and the view is definitely second—"

  "You don't get drafts in a controlled aircirc system. Are you sure you—"

  "Holy mulr
ooney!" he suddenly exclaimed as the door hissed open. "Listen, I can explain . . . ah, hello."

  "It occurred to one," said the entering waiter, "that the stalwart lieutenant might be in need of one."

  "He is," confirmed Starbuck. "This dinky little private room was sufficient when I was alone and sulking. Now, though, I feel the need of something a mite better. Posher, more conducive to—"

  "Ah, that may be most difficult, sir. One isn't at all certain that—"

  "I'm sure you can come up with something." Starbuck passed him a coin.

  "It occurs to one, Lieutenant, that there is indeed another room available, one that more ideally suits your present needs." He tapped his temple with the hand that clutched Starbuck's latest contribution. "Yet one's poor old brain is having trouble recalling—"

  "This may jog it." Starbuck provided yet another glittering coin.

  "It all comes back to one now, yes," said the waiter with a positive nod of his head. "Right this way, sir and miss." He bowed and led them from the room.

  "You certainly seem jittery tonight," observed Athena as she took his arm. "Worrying about the mission, are you, Starbuck?"

  "No, no," he said quickly. "No, it's actually the sight of you. Yes, you, the fairest creature on all the ships in the fleet. You set my blood to racing and—"

  "Well, that's very flattering," she said, smiling. "Even though I don't believe it at . . . careful!"

  He'd been glancing from left to right, alert, on the lookout for Cassiopeia, and had tripped on a wrinkle in the carpeting. "Sorry," he said. "Being with you, love, makes me a mite giddy, I guess."

  "Ah, romance," sighed the waiter.

  The communication screen in Commander Adama's quarters buzzed. Leaving the comfortable chair he'd been sitting in, he moved over to it and activated the respond toggle. "Yes?"

  Colonel Tigh's face appeared on the screen. "Looks like we've got something," he said. "Long-range probe indicates possible life forms in Quadrant Alpha Six."

  Nodding, Adama asked, "Cylons?"

  "Can't tell if it's Cylons or a friendly life form," answered Tigh. "That'll take a Recon Viper."

  "Very well, get Recon Viper One ready."

  "Concentrated probe indicates definite life signs," amplified the colonel. "Asteroid concentration, binary star system Alpha Six, mark 775."