Battlestar Galactica 10 - The Long Patrol

by Glen A. Larson

  "You have?"

  Starbuck said, "Mostly dire warnings, I imagine."

  "Some of the girls dropped in to say hello," explained Robber. "Naturally, they got around to mentioning their favorite men aboard the Galactica."

  Chuckling, Lieutenant Jolly asked, "And I was one of 'em, huh?"

  "Your name just about headed the list."

  "Fancy that," said Jolly, chuckling further.

  "It is hard to believe, isn't it?" Starbuck glanced around the lounge.

  He was less than pleased to notice that several other young warriors had detached themselves from their groups to come heading this way.

  "If we should get separated, Roberta," he said, "you have but to let out a yell and I'll come to the rescue."

  Jolly told her, "Why, you're in no danger here."

  Four more lieutenants converged on them.

  Apollo found Starbuck staring out a window of the lounge. "You seem far from festive, good buddy."

  "True."

  "Must I remind you that this is a party? The purpose of parties is to cheer people up."

  Starbuck took a slow sip from his glass of Ambrosa. "All through history it has been ever thus."

  "What has?"

  "Need you ask?" Turning away from the window, he gestured at the large cluster of young men across the room. "Know who's at the heart of that huddle?"

  "Robber."

  "Correct." Starbuck stared into his drink for a silent moment. "All through history the great discoverers, inventors, explorers and men of courage have gone forth and brought back great treasures and then ended up with the short end of the stick."

  "I've heard that before, though not exactly in those words."

  "I found Robb . . . Roberta. That's her new name, by the way. Another of my inventions, I might add. I discovered Roberta on a remote asteroid and brought her hence."

  "I thought she found you and conked you on the head."

  "The point is, if you'll cease heckling and heaping scorn on me in my hour of need," continued Starbuck sadly, "the point is, I discovered this lady, persuaded her to come here and . . . I'm ignored. Cast aside while flocks of randy youths surround her."

  "So, why not give her a chance to meet people?"

  "Am I standing in her way? Heck, if I did I'd only end up getting trampled."

  "Jealous, maybe?"

  Starbuck considered. "Well, I did expect to spend some time with her at this shindig," he admitted. "She looks absolutely terrific tonight, doesn't she?"

  "I noticed." Apollo smiled. "Suppose you devote some time to Cass or Athena and—"

  "They're having nothing to do with me."

  "Neither one?"

  "Both gave me what you might call the cold shoulder." He drank a little more of his drink.

  "Looking at things from a more rational point of view," said Apollo, "you ought to be pleased. Earlier you were concerned that Robber might not fit in here on the Galactica. It sure looks like she's a social success."

  "She doesn't have to be that successful," complained Starbuck.

  "This'll settle down eventually. Then you can—"

  "Attention!" boomed the overhead speakers. "All personnel report to battle stations at once! Repeat! All—"

  "Looks like we've got something else to worry about," said Apollo.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Alarm sirens were sounding. Protective shields were dropping into place over the windows of the rec lounge.

  Starbuck hurried toward the exit. Robber caught him by the arm. "What is it, what's wrong?"

  "My guess'd be a Cylon raid."

  She lowered her head. "I was afraid of that," she said. "It's my fault for being stupid enough to try to contact—"

  "Hey, we've been having trouble with the Cylons for quite a spell now," he said. "Long before you came along."

  "Yes, but you know what I mean. I—"

  "We'll have a nice long talk soon as I get back from the wars," he promised.

  She tightened her grip on his arm. "Can I do something? Fly a—"

  "Stick here and keep all our new arrivals from panicking," he suggested. "A Cylon raid on their first day here can't make 'em feel any too chipper."

  "Okay." She kissed him on the cheek. "Come back."

  "Such is my intention." He left her, left the big room.

  Lieutenant Jolly fell in beside him and they moved along a corridor together. "What's the story?"

  "Cylons are probably attacking us and—"

  "No, I mean with you and Roberta," said the moustached lieutenant impatiently. "I noticed that leave-taking just now. She likes you."

  "Sure, that's why she spent the evening allowing oafs like you to hover all—"

  "Aw, it's not who they chitchat with at the party that's important," Jolly told him, "it's who they go home with. Or is that whom?"

  "It's hooey either way."

  "If I get back from this mission," said Jolly, "I intend to try to cut you off. Just thought I'd be fair and warn—"

  "If you get back?" Starbuck shook his head. "Quit talking like that, Jolly, or you'll jinx us all."

  Commander Adama entered the Galactica bridge. "What's the latest?"

  The wail of warning alarms and the slamming of metal doors echoed all around.

  When the commander reached a scanner screen, Colonel Tigh said, "It appears to be a full-scale attack."

  Adama, brows knit, watched the blips of light moving ominously across the screen. "Fifty Cylon fighters," he observed.

  "And they're coming right for us," said Tigh. "Not heading for Proteus or any of the other asteroids out there."

  "They may not know there's any human life on the asteroids," the commander said. "If we stop them, it's possible they'll never find out."

  "The Cylons certainly know we're here."

  "That was, quite probably, inevitable."

  "The young woman who tried to contact Aeries," said the colonel as he watched the screen. "I understand she's now aboard the battlestar."

  "Yes, I met her when our new guests arrived," answered Adama. "Is the Blue Squadron ready to launch?"

  "A few microns yet," said Tigh. "Many of the warrior pilots were at the party, so it's taking them longer to—"

  "I'm still glad we had the celebration."

  "I wasn't implying any criticism, Commander, simply stating facts."

  Adama nodded. "The young lady, Robber she's called, piloted one of the shuttles," he said. "I don't believe she deliberately tried to contact the Cylons."

  "You're taking her on face value?"

  "No," said the commander. "Both Starbuck and my son vouch for her. And that counts for something."

  "Didn't this same young woman try to murder Starbuck?"

  "Not according to the lieutenant's report," said Adama. "There was simply a misunderstanding during which Lieutenant Starbuck happened to get hit, quite accidentally, on the head."

  "I haven't met the young woman," said Colonel Tigh. "I'm assuming, however, that she's attractive."

  "Very much so," said Adama. "But I've never found, Colonel, that a pretty woman is any less trustworthy than a plain one."

  "I don't imagine Lieutenant Starbuck has either."

  From a voicebox came, "Blue Squadron ready to launch!"

  "Good luck," murmured the commander.

  Starbuck shot a quick glance over to where Recon Viper One was sitting, then climbed into his regular Viper. "Going to miss you, Cora," he said. "But I'm going to need my guns this time out."

  He strapped himself in, shut the cockpit and began checking out his instruments.

  "Going to miss that extra speed, too."

  Lieutenant Boomer's voice came out of a grid on the dash. "How you doing, Starbuck?"

  "Raring to go."

  "You looked mighty gloomy at the party."

  "Me? You're mistaken, chum," Starbuck assured him. "On several occasions, in fact, folks in my vicinity had to warn me to hush up because I was laughing and carrying on
with such vigor."

  "Your lady friend was, beyond a doubt, the hit of the evening."

  Starbuck didn't reply.

  "Starbuck?"

  "He just stepped out onto the terrace," said Starbuck. "Any message?"

  "Geeze, you sound awful grumpy for a guy who's supposed to be bubbling over with happiness."

  "Hey, what are you, Boomer? Some Cylon agent sent to demoralize me or what?"

  "Seemed obvious to me that Robber favors you above all others," Boomer told him. "In case that's what you're moping about. Just because Jolly and a bunch of the other guys were flocking around her like—"

  "Roberta," corrected Starbuck. "She's decided to call herself Roberta from hence onward. It sounds a bit less larcenous than Robber."

  "Ready to launch," announced a metallic voice.

  "We'll continue this conversation," promised Boomer, "when we return."

  "No hurry," said Starbuck.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Captain Apollo fired his lasers again. He scored another direct hit on one of the oncoming Cylon fighters.The enemy ship burst, sending glittering fragments spewing in all directions across the darkness.

  "Hey," came Starbuck's puzzled voice, "what the heck is going on here?"

  Apollo answered, "Not sure, old buddy."

  "These bozos aren't fighting back at all," said Starbuck. "What're they up to?"

  "You've got me. But we might as well take advantage of it."

  "Well, sure. But it ain't exactly sporting." Starbuck signed off.

  Two Cylons were coming right for Apollo's Viper. He dived, banked and came up beneath them. His laserguns fired into the underside of one of the Cylon fighters. The craft turned into a scattering, spinning mess of debris.

  "Now where the heck did the other one get to?"

  Banking again, he spotted the Cylon.

  The ship had broken through the Vipers that ringed the Galactica.

  It was hurtling straight for the battlestar.

  "Attention, Galactica!" Apollo said into his talkmike. "One of 'em's through and heading right for you."

  "Our laser turrets can handle him," said Adama's voice.

  Apollo was watching the hurtling Cylon fighter. "Dad, he's not going to fire on you," he warned. "He's going to ram!"

  A micron later the Cylon hit the Galactica, its snout ripping into the side of the battlestar.

  "That's what they're up to," realized Apollo. "It's a suicide mission. They're trying to destroy the Galactica!"

  Robber had been sitting at a small table in the now quiet rec lounge. Her arm rested on the slick tabletop, close to her untouched glass of Ambrosa.

  Across from her, nervously drumming his stubby fingers on the table, sat Assault. "Quite a welcome," he remarked.

  The sounds of the space battle outside could be heard dimly in the lounge.

  "It's called reality," the young woman said, smiling faintly. "Might as well learn to deal with it right off."

  "I know," said the bearded man. "Trouble is, I really would hate to get killed my first day aboard."

  "As I understand it," she said, "this battlestar is built to withstand quite a lot. They've been through plenty of attacks and survived every damn one."

  "So far." Assault glanced around the room.

  The former prisoners were seated at various tables, hunched and silent for the most part.

  "Think of it this way," Robber said. "You're better off here than you were on Proteus."

  "Sure, but on Proteus I didn't have to worry about Cylons."

  "That didn't mean they couldn't have attacked at any time and wiped out everybody on the asteroid."

  "Sure, but I didn't know about that possibility." Assault scratched at his beard. "Even so, the—"

  "And you don't have Croad to annoy you anymore."

  "Funny about him," said Assault. "Deciding to stay on Proteus and throw in with the others."

  "The guy's stubborn as hell," she said. "A trait like that ought to come in handy for a farmer."

  "I keep wondering if—"

  There was an enormous boom, then the sound of metal being torn, ripped and twisted.

  The floor of the lounge shook and bounced. The tables rattled and swayed. All the lights in the big room died.

  A moment later someone said in the thick darkness, "I don't hear the aircirc system anymore. We're not getting any air!"

  Commander Adama turned toward the colonel. "How bad so far?"

  "Two Cylon fighters have broken through," answered Tigh. "Both hit us starboard. The damage is being assessed now."

  "It's probably not major."

  Athena was at her console. "The power is down in that area," she said.

  The commander asked her, "Does that include the rec lounge?"

  "Afraid so."

  "What about the aux system?"

  Athena shook her head. "That's not functioning either."

  Adama locked his hands behind his back, watching his daughter's screen. "Then there's no light or air?"

  "That's right."

  "How many people still in the room?"

  "All our new arrivals, or just about," answered Athena. "It was assumed they'd be safe in the rec lounge."

  "None of the exit doors are functioning?"

  "No, which means everyone is trapped inside."

  Adama asked Tigh, "How soon can we get the power supply repaired, Colonel?"

  Shaking his head, Tigh answered, "Not until the attack is over, Commander."

  "Can we get a crew to the lounge, to let those people out?"

  "We can try," the colonel said. "But we don't know how many frozen and jammed doors they'll have to get through to reach there."

  "Send a crew, instruct them to look for anyone trapped in that entire area," ordered Commander Adama. "How long can the people in the rec lounge survive on what air is there?"

  "It's possible there's enough air to last until we can reach them," said Tigh. "But there are quite a few people there."

  Adama said, "Very well. Do what you can, Colonel.'

  "Let's everybody calm down," Robber said in a commanding voice.

  "We're all going to die," wailed someone in the darkness.

  "You sure as hell will if you don't shut up," she warned him. "I'll see to it myself. Where are those damn lights?"

  "Coming up, miss." Over beside the bar two hand-lights blossomed.

  Robber said, "Bring me one, then see if you can find any more."

  "Right you are," answered the bartender, trotting through the huddled figures to her side.

  Robber took the light, then swept its small beam around the big room. "Forger? Where the hell are you?"

  "Haven't seen him," volunteered Adulteress.

  "He was here," said Robber with certainty. "Forger! Get your ancient butt in gear."

  "I'm dying, child," croaked a feeble voice.

  Robber pointed with the beam of light. "There he is, ducked under that table. Assault, drag him over here."

  "Air," gasped the little man. "I'm expiring for lack of air."

  "Relax and you'll use up less of what we've got left," she advised as Assault escorted him to her.

  "Just let me make my peace with my gods and pass away quietly so—"

  "How many drinks tonight?"

  Forger didn't meet her eyes. "Oh, a few, child."

  "Hands. Hold 'em out."

  Reluctantly Forger obliged. His gnarled hands fluttered like insects in the wind. "Well, maybe a half dozen. Now I think of it."

  "Well, you're still the best gadget man we've got," she said. "So we'll go with you, Forger." She jerked a thumb at the nearest door. "From what we found out in the dark, these damn doors are all jammed."

  "So I heard, child."

  "You're going to open one of 'em."

  "Oh, that's a mighty tough task," protested Forger, shivering. "Especially for a man on the brink of death."

  "You'll go over the brink, with a push from me, if you don't quit stall
ing." She grabbed him by the neck, hustled him to the doorway. "Take a look, study it and then figure out how it can be opened. If it can."

  "Any door can be opened, lass." Forger straightened up, rubbed his fingertips together. "All it takes is . . . um . . . time."

  Starbuck paused to light a cigar. "How're we doing?"

  Apollo's voice replied, "So far three Cylons have hit the battlestar."

  "We've taken out a healthy percentage of the others—oops! Here comes another one."

  The lieutenant fired his guns.

  The Cylon fighter exploded.

  "As I was saying," Starbuck said.

  "Listen," said Apollo. "I've been in touch with the bridge. Because of those suicide crashes the power's out on much of the starboard side of the battlestar."

  "That's where the rec lounge is."

  "Yep, and they've got no air coming in."

  "They'll die. Robber . . . Roberta and all of them."

  "There's a crew trying to get to them."

  "Damn it, I ought to be down there."

  "We've still got a job to take care of up here," reminded Apollo.

  "Then let's finish it up," suggested Starbuck, teeth clamping down on the cigar.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Robber reached back and caught hold of a chair. Sliding it over, she straddled it and continued watching Forger at work.

  Using the small tool kit he carried with him, the old man had removed a metal panel from the door. "Here's your trouble right here," he explained over his shoulder, pointing at a tangle of multicolored wires within the door. "Some of these got cooked when—"

  "How long to fix?"

  "Hard to tell, lass." Frowning, he took another look back at her. "You look a mite peaked."

  "Don't worry." She was breathing shallowly, having trouble concentrating on what he was telling her.

  Assault crouched on the floor nearby. "What do you think about our chances, Robber?"

  "Prophecy isn't my strong suit," she answered. Her voice sounded stranger to her, unfamiliar and faraway.

  "You okay?" He moved to her side, rested a hand on her shoulder.

  "Matter of fact," she admitted, "I don't feel all that great."

  At the other side of the dimly lit room a middle-aged woman began sobbing, short gasping sobs. "Time's run out . . . we'll all die . . ."