"That'll be like threading a needle."
"Kick us up to max speed."
"You can't take that. You'll black out."
"But you won't, kiddo. C'mon, let's move it."
Apollo witnessed the whole show, but he didn't quite believe it. He'd been swinging his Viper around to give Boomer a hand.
He saw that the second Cylon ship was closing in behind the lieutenant. He reached for his talkmike to give a warning.
But then something came whizzing across the darkness. It sizzled through the narrow gap between Boomer and his pursuer.
The Cylon swerved to avoid what he had to believe was a certain collision. Starbuck's ship got through the gap unscathed.
While that was happening, Boomer fired at the Cylon he was tailing. His second laser turned the Cylon fighter into jagged, scattering fragments.
Apollo sneaked up on the remaining Cylon ship, which was still a bit wobbly from its near encounter with Starbuck's very fast Recon Viper One.
Apollo fired his laserguns, and that took care of the last of the Cylon fighters.
"Boomer? You okay, buddy?"
"Yep, fine," answered the lieutenant. "Thanks, one and all, for the assistance."
"That was a handsome piece of flying, Starbuck."
There was no answer.
"Starbuck?"
Cora said, "Oh, the poor boy's out cold."
"I told you it would hurt you. Now you're in a stupor, with your poor dear brains all scrambled and goodness knows what else is wrong—"
"Huh?"
"At least you can still mutter."
"Cora?" Starbuck blinked. "How'd we do?"
"Your little stunt worked."
He rubbed at his cheekbones. "So why are you so glum, my dear?"
"I thought you were dead or worse."
"Only a blackout," he assured her. "Is Boomer all right?"
"Yes. Captain Apollo destroyed the Cylon fighter that was after him," answered the computer. "Lieutenant Boomer took care of the other one."
"Hey, that's swell," said Starbuck. "Three out of three, that's a darn good score."
"I think you'd better allow me to run a full physical checkup on you," suggested Cora. "You can't tell what sort of dire and dreadful internal injuries you may have."
"I'm fine," he said. "Now let us return to Proteus."
"Must we?"
"Duty calls."
"Duty?" The computer produced a sniffing noise. "It's that awful outlaw woman."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Starbuck thumped himself on the chest. "I guarantee it," he said to Apollo. "I'm in crackerjack shape."
"You still look a bit glassy eyed, old buddy."
They were in the Proteus prison docking area, near their just-landed Vipers.
"He always looks that way," Boomer pointed out.
"I mean more so than usual." Apollo put a hand on Starbuck's shoulder. "A blackout like that can—"
"Really, granny, I'm fine." Starbuck took out a cigar. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm okay."
Boomer said, "That was a nice stunt you pulled, scaring that Cylon off my tail."
"With my new Viper, and my considerable skill, it's possible to do some pretty fancy flying," said Starbuck modestly.
"The Cylons may well send out more ships." Apollo was watching the freed prisoners who had scattered into small groups all around the overgrown spaceport.
"Meaning nobody's safe here on Proteus?" asked Boomer.
Starbuck lit his cigar. "Are we going to take 'em all back to the Galactica?" he asked. "If we use the shuttles and the enforcer ships we can mount a caravan that'll—"
"They may not all want to go," said Apollo.
"The charms of Proteus aren't that many," said Starbuck.
"Whatever's going to be done, it'll have to be done fast," said the captain. "We want to be back aboard the Galactica before any more Cylons show up in this galaxy."
"What you'd better do," Boomer suggested, "is gather one and all together and make a speech."
After the speech, which was short and to the point, Starbuck went searching for Robber.
He found her, sitting alone, at the edge of the field. Perching on a case beside her, he said, "Well?"
"Basically," the dark-haired young woman said, "I'm a solitary person."
"You sound like Scrapper."
Robber shrugged. "We're alike in some ways," she said. "I don't think I'm suited for refugee life with your fleet."
"You make it sound like you'll be all herded into pens or something," Starbuck said.
"I like the life I've established hereabouts. Moving around from asteroid to asteroid," she said. "Nobody criticizes me if I want to get off by myself once in a while, and I do like to do that."
He touched her hand. "But you tried to contact Aeries," he reminded her. "You took my ship so you could travel there eventually."
"I was curious," Robber answered. "And restless. I get that way."
"Look," he said, "if I'm what's worrying you, forget it. I promise I won't shower you with attention once you're settled on the Galactica, won't act as though you're my best girl or—"
"No, I suppose you've got all sorts of other women who—"
"You're missing the point," he cut in. "I like you, Robber. Heck, I've proved that. What I'm saying is, once you get to the Galactica you won't be Starbuck's protégé. You can see as much or as little of me as you want."
"I understand, yes."
"I don't know if you do or not, when you use that sad, little girl tone on me," he said. "What I'm really anxious about is that you get the hell off Proteus. There's a very strong possibility that more Cylons'll be coming this way before long."
She said, "I heard the prisoners talking while you were away. Many of them want to stay right here."
"Here? On Proteus? Why would—"
"It's home to them. They believe they can grow enough crops to survive."
"The Cylons may not let 'em survive."
"Everything in life's a gamble."
"Granted some people would prefer to be farmers and not relocate to the fleet," he conceded. "That doesn't apply to you."
"That's true, but—"
"Hold it," he said, holding up his hand. "How about a compromise? Some of the ex-prisoners will want to come with us. We're going to need good pilots to fly the shuttles and fighter ships. You're an excellent flyer."
"There are others, just as good."
"But not as attractive. Why don't you at least fly a load of passengers to the battlestar," he suggested. "Take a look around, see if you like things there. If you don't, you can always come back here."
Robber considered his suggestion. "Well, I do owe you a favor," she said, "since I caused you quite a bit of trouble."
"You don't owe me a darn thing, but if you want—"
"I'll do it," she said.
"Great." He hugged her.
"They're committing suicide," said Boomer.
"We can't force anyone to come with us," Apollo said.
"Look on the bright side," put in Starbuck. "We may be able to take care of whatever Cylons stick their noses into this part of the universe."
"Tangling with Cylons isn't my idea of a good time," said the lieutenant.
"And we have no way of knowing how many ships they'll send next time." Apollo moved closer to his Viper.
About two dozen of the freed Proteus prisoners wanted to come along back to the Galactica. Roughly twice that number had voted to remain.
Three commandeered shuttles were loaded with passengers and, at Starbuck's suggestion, crates of the surplus Ambrosa. Robber, who was going to be piloting the lead shuttle, was supervising its loading.
Starbuck, puffing on his cigar, watched her while he and his fellow warriors talked.
"The folks who're staying," said Boomer, "deserve a chance to make a go of it. If the Cylons come—"
"Starbuck may be right," said Apollo. "We can try to stop that from happening."
"For a while maybe," said Boomer. "But we can only knock out so many of their fighters."
"Why so sad lookin'?" Scrapper, grinning, had come over to them.
Starbuck said, "Boomer always puddles up at farewells and leavetakings."
"Way I see it, there's a plan for everythin'," said Scrapper. "Folks get together and they separate and it all works out in the end. Most times anyhow."
Starbuck asked him, "You sure you don't want to tag along?"
"Yep, but thanks for repeatin' the invite," he said. "I just wasn't meant for livin' with a whole mess of folks, Starbuck."
"You'd fit right in on the battlestar," Starbuck told him. "With that trick arm of yours, you could do all sorts of handy—"
"Nope, I aim to stay around here." He pointed skyward with his metal thumb. "Here and over to the planetoid where we first met up."
Giving a resigned shrug, Starbuck said, "Okay. Wish you'd come, though."
Scrapper leaned closer to him. "Do me one favor, though," he said quietly. "Take care of Robber, see she does okay."
"I will," promised Starbuck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Upon his pedestal the Imperious Leader said, "You do not bring me good news?"
The Centurion acknowledged that with a slight bow. "May I speak?"
"Do so."
"The three fighter ships that were sent to investigate the signals being sent to Aeries have ceased to communicate. I conclude they have been destroyed."
The pedestal flashed and flickered in the dim room. The Cylon leader ordered, "Three more ships must be sent."
"It will be done at once."
"They are to make a full report."
Bowing deeply, the Centurion left the room.
When Commander Adama stepped onto the bridge of the Galactica, Colonel Tigh, looking pleased, came striding over to him.
"The news is good," said Tigh.
"So I hear."
"Apollo and Boomer have found Starbuck," continued the colonel. "He and Recon Viper One are in good shape."
Adama nodded.
"They encountered three ships," Tigh said. "All three were destroyed."
"We seem to have won," Adama said, "for the moment."
"Since the Cylons are gone, we won't have to change course," Tigh said. "That means the Vipers and the other ships will be able to rendezvous with us."
"Other ships?"
"They're leading a convoy of several shuttles," explained Colonel Tigh. "Bringing people who've been rescued from an asteroid called Proteus."
"We can accommodate them, I'm sure."
"According to Apollo, most of our visitors have been residing in a prison on Proteus."
"They're criminals?"
Tigh said, "Apollo assures me they're not. He'll explain everything when they arrive, with some help from Lieutenant Starbuck."
"Yes, I imagine Starbuck will have quite a report to make." Adama glanced toward a window and the blackness outside.
"I've alerted the docking area."
Commander Adama said, "The Cylons don't like being beaten."
"Few warriors do."
"They'll almost certainly send more ships out here."
"We're ready for them."
"I hope so," said the commander.
Athena sat alone at a table in the lounge. Her slim back was turned to the view windows and she seemed to be concentrating on the forefinger she was tapping against the side of her glass.
"Mind if I join you?"
"I guess not . . . oh, it's you."
Cassiopeia took the chair opposite. "Feeling downhearted?"
"Especially so now that you're here, Cass dear."
The blonde smiled tentatively. "I dropped over to suggest a truce," she said.
Looking up, Athena said, "We're not at war."
"I know, but—"
"In order to have a war the two opposing parties have to be contesting the ownership of some valuable piece of property."
Cassiopeia said, "And you're implying that Starbuck isn't valuable enough to feud over?"
"Right," replied Athena. "On top of which, I'm not at all interested in owning him—even for a short spell of time."
"He is sort of a rat, isn't he? Attempting to take us both to dinner, pretending that each of us was—"
"Starbuck wouldn't have tried that, dear, unless you'd forced yourself on him and insisted—"
"Me?" Cassiopeia touched her breast. "It was you, sweet, who homed in on—"
"Is this your notion of trace talks?"
"You're right." Cassiopeia relaxed in her chair. "I think you've adopted the right attitude. He's not worth arguing about."
"Especially now."
She sat up. "What's so special about now?" she asked, frowning. "He's safely on his way home, isn't he?"
"Oh, sure. But he's bringing several shuttles full of young women with him."
"He is? How'd he manage that?"
"They're escaped convicts or something," explained Athena. "He rescued them off an asteroid. The details in Apollo's message were sketchy."
"Well, then you don't know if it's Starbuck who's responsible for bringing them back or Apollo or Boomer."
Athena tilted her head, eyeing the other young woman. "Do you really doubt that it's Starbuck who came up with the idea?"
"I guess not."
"Exactly."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Cora the computer said, "It's a real shame."
"What is?" inquired Starbuck.
"The way you're carrying on," she told him.
"I was under the impression I was carrying on admirably."
"As an example," said Cora, "let me mention the manner in which you're behaving at this very moment."
"Ah, I get your drift, kiddo."
He had cut the speed of his Recon Viper One and dropped back to see how the shuttle that Robber was piloting was faring.
"Here you have a ship," said the computer, "that can just zip along through space and you're dawdling back here like—"
"We're escorting these ships back to the battlestar," he reminded her. "That means we keep an eye on them. This isn't a race."
"From what I've seen of that hussy, she can more than take care of herself."
"You're letting Robber's front fool you," the lieutenant said. "Inside she's not anywhere near as—"
"And, my, isn't that a lovely name? Won't that sound just marvelous after you're married? 'How do you do. My name's Robber Starbuck and—' "
"Whoa there, Cora," he interrupted. "I don't intend to get hitched to Robber or anyone else. Simply because I take an interest in a young lady doesn't mean—"
"Oh, I know all about the kind of interest you take in young women. I've scanned your dossier, from the time you—"
"If you have, then you know what a nice cleancut fellow I am." He took out a cigar, lit it. "Women think of me as a protector of their best interests."
"Hogwash."
"They sure built some strange stuff into you," observed Starbuck. "I'm starting to think you're jealous."
"Oh, my," exclaimed the computer.
"What?"
"I'm getting something on my scanners," Cora replied.
"Cylons?"
"Afraid so, hon," she answered ruefully. "Three more of them, coming right this way."
Robber had been trying to concentrate on piloting the shuttle, not wanting to think about what things would be like aboard the battlestar Galactica. She was aware of Starbuck's Viper out there keeping an eye on her.
She was really going to have to sort out her—
". . . don't you?"
Robber realized that Assault, who was sitting in the seat beside her, had asked her a question. "What's that?"
"I was saying we're doing the right thing," the bearded man repeated.
"Yes, I agree."
"But I get the feeling that you haven't made up your mind."
"I think I have, though."
"How long hav
e you known him?"
"Starbuck? Not long, not very long at all."
Assault scratched at his beard. "I didn't think so, but I got the impression you were pretty close."
"That happens sometimes. You meet somebody, you feel as though you've been friends all along."
"Hard for me to judge," he said. "In the prison . . . well, you know how that was. You grow up with the same people, the same enforcers even. There wasn't much chance to meet anyone new."
"You'll sure have a chance to meet new people on the Galactica," Robber told him. "All sorts of people."
Nodding, Assault said, "You've always had more nerve than most of us. Leaving prison when you were just a kid, going out on your own—"
"I wasn't exactly a kid, I was seventeen," Robber said. "After my mother died, I knew I had to get out and away."
"You figure you'll stay on the Galactica?"
"For a while," she answered. "Until I get restless."
He stared out the window for a moment. "And you're not scared at all?"
Robber said, "A little uneasy maybe. I'm not exactly what you'd call ladylike and I don't want to be taken for some kind of rustic bumpkin."
Assault chuckled. "You don't have to worry about that," he assured her.
"We'll see."
"I understand what's bothering you. You figure that when Starbuck gets a look at you alongside the ladies of the Galactica, he'll decide you're not sophisticated enough."
"Something like that."
Assault scratched his whiskers again. "Of course, I haven't seen any of those ladies myself," he said. "But I think you'll measure up okay."
"Thanks," she said.
"It's going to be different, living on a gigantic spacecraft that's always on the move."
"Won't be as cramped as prison," she said. "And eventually, according to what Captain Apollo said, the Galactica will reach its destination."
"Earth," murmured Assault. "Could be there isn't any such place."
"I believe there is."
"Why?"
Robber said, "Mostly because they believe in it so intensely. Apollo, Boomer and Starbuck."
"Hold on to your hats, kids," came Starbuck's voice out of the talkbox on the control panel. "Or better yet, man your defense guns."
Battlestar Galactica 10 - The Long Patrol Page 8
