Battlestar Galactica 6 - The Living Legend

by Glen A. Larson

  "We all have to learn to adjust," Apollo said patiently. "Even the legendary Commander Cain may have to alter his combat techniques."

  Sheba snorted. "And who's going to tell him that?"

  "Being something of a student of your father's battle tactics," said Apollo, "I think he'll arrive at that decision on his own. If not, well . . ."

  Tolen entered the Officers' Club at that moment and called the pilots to attention. They all jumped to their feet as Cain entered with his guard. He was accompanied by Cassiopeia.

  "No, no," protested Cain. "Please, resume your seats. We're not on duty now. This is supposed to be a party." He moved up to the table occupied by Sheba, Apollo, Boomer and Bojay.

  "It's good, what you're doing," he said. "We should all get acquainted. After all, we'll be fighting side by side from now on. Next round is on me."

  The pilots from both ships applauded Cain, all save his daughter. She had heard that Cassiopeia was aboard, but this was their first meeting since that time, yahrens ago, when the blonde socialator had usurped her mother's place.

  "You'll have to excuse me," Sheba said, rising to her feet. "I think I've had enough combat for one day."

  All eyes were on her as she left. There was a moment of awkward silence. Not everyone knew what had just transpired, but it didn't take much for them to see that there was clearly friction between the two women for some reason.

  "Excuse me," Apollo said, getting up and going after Sheba.

  "Nothing changes," Cassiopeia said morosely.

  "Everything changes," said Cain. "Come, let's have a drink for old times."

  "Things may change," Cassiopeia said softly, "but not people."

  In the corridor, Apollo hurried to catch up to Sheba.

  "Sheba, can we talk?"

  "Not right now," she said. "I don't think I'm up to it."

  "We're all going to have to work together if we're going to survive," he said.

  "Working with you won't be the problem," she replied tersely.

  "I don't think you understand," Apollo said. "We can't afford to have individual quarrels or rivalries. We're only human after all, and being human, we may have our differences, but we have a common enemy. And when it comes right down to it, there's not a person aboard the Galactica I wouldn't lay down my life for."

  "Well, I'm sure that's very noble of you," Sheba said, a heavy touch of sarcasm in her voice. "However, I'm not so sure that everyone shares the purity of your motives. You can't know everyone as well as you seem to think you do."

  "I know the lady you're upset about."

  "Do you?"

  "I know who she is now," said Apollo earnestly. "Who or what she may have been before doesn't count for anything. We've all been through a cleansing fire. It's stripped every one of us clean down to the bone. What's past is past. We can afford to think of nothing but survival now. Only the strong survive."

  "Not necessarily. Luck has a great deal to do with it. I know a little something about surviving, Captain."

  "I know you think you do. But the fact is that it's easier in a cockpit with thrusters and lasers to defend you than it is for people in our fleet who have no choice but to sit and wait. And worry. I think you misunderstood me. It wasn't a warrior's strength that I was speaking of. Cassiopeia is no warrior, but she's one of the people who work around the clock piecing together the wounded who aren't lucky enough to get out of the way. That doesn't take a warrior's skill, but it takes a great deal of courage."

  "Cassiopeia works in the Life Station?" Sheba said, obviously surprised.

  Apollo smiled. "There's not much call for a woman of her old profession aboard the Galactica. Everyone's had to learn to contribute in some way. We're in this together, every one of us. Cassiopeia has worked hard, harder than most, and she's become one of our best medics."

  "All right, Apollo. Consider me briefed."

  "What about convinced?"

  "I'll be frank with you, Apollo, as one pilot to another. I don't convince easily. Human weakness is a given. It may lower its profile in a crisis, but it's still there."

  She started to move off.

  "What about you, Sheba?" he called after her. "Any weaknesses?"

  She turned and regarded him with a steady gaze.

  "None that will ever come between us, Captain."

  Commanders Cain and Adama stood before the multidimensional war map in the ready room, going over their plan of battle with the squadron leaders looking on. Cain was giving them the final briefing.

  "The Cylons run fuel ships along this route," he said, indicating the map. "They bring their tankers through every fifteen days. Their convoy will have already left Gomoray, but if we go full power all the way, we can still catch them before they're out of strike range."

  "Full power all the way?" said Adama. He shook his head. "It's risky, Cain. You'll barely have enough fuel to get you there and back."

  "We won't need any more than that," Cain replied with certainty.

  "You'll still be playing it awfully close," Adama said. "Surely they must fly fighter escort on their convoys. A prolonged battle would use up all of your reserves."

  "Except they'll never be expecting us to hit them," Cain said. "And besides, I don't fight prolonged battles with the Cylons. They're not that good. And we are!"

  Adama frowned. Cain's bombastic rhetoric was having its desired effect upon the squadron leaders, it was psyching them up, but there was no denying the fact that his battle plan called for an extended strike that left absolutely no margin for error. They could not afford to lose any more ships. To say nothing of losing any more lives. Enough had died already. And there would be more before they reached their destination. It was inevitable. He was still the same old Cain. The man who lived for battle. That had never been Adama's way.

  "Very well," Adama said, capitulating against his better judgment. They needed that fuel desperately and, risky though the plan was, it was nowhere near as dangerous as attacking the Cylon ground base would be. He would have to chose between the lesser of two evils. "We'll send a single squadron from each battlestar."

  "No offense," said Cain, his glance taking in the squadron leaders from the Galactica, "but I'd prefer to use just my own wings on this mission."

  "Commander, for purposes of morale, I think it would be best to begin integrating these squadrons so that they could start developing a sense of teamwork."

  Cain shrugged. "Whatever you say. I'm sure my pilots will be more than happy to pass on their experience. Let's get to it."

  Cain turned and left the ready room, his squadron leaders snapping to and following in his wake. Apollo stayed behind after the men from the Galactica had left, no doubt smarting a bit from Cain's remarks.

  "Is there anything he doesn't do better than everyone else?" said Apollo.

  Adama nodded. "I'd have to include giving up in that category."

  "He isn't quite what I expected," said Apollo. "I've never seen anyone treated so like a . . . like a god."

  "That may be," his father said, "but you have to remember that he's kept his people alive in the heart of Cylon territory for over two yahrens. They'd do anything for him. Rightfully so."

  "I hope you realize," said Apollo, "that this . . . adulation, this absolute awe everyone feels for him in no way detracts from how the men feel about you."

  Adama placed his hands on Apollo's shoulders.

  "This isn't a popularity contest, son. It's a life and death struggle for survival. We need men like Cain. Our people need heroes. They need men and women whom they can look up to. People who can give them the courage to go on."

  "They feel that way about you."

  "And I hope I never disappoint them. Now get going. I don't want your squadron getting to those tankers after Cain's already done the job." He smiled. "There's a matter of pride involved here, understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  As Apollo went off to do battle, Adama wondered about what he had told his son. A matter of
pride. It was what Apollo wanted to hear. He felt the way any son might feel who saw his father overshadowed by another man. It was an understandable reaction, especially in one so young as Apollo.

  He's a good warrior, Adama thought, but he has much to learn yet. When he gets older . . . if he ever gets that chance . . . he'll learn that there are times when one must swallow one's pride. He remembered back when Apollo had been a boy, the way he'd worshiped Cain. He would listen to the stories of Cain's victories and dream about the day when he too could be a warrior and command a battlestar. Now, as a man, Apollo was beginning to realize that even heroes have feet of clay.

  Cain was a willful man, a man who did not know how to compromise. The men and women under his command, indeed, many of the people aboard the Galactica, felt about him the way Apollo had many yahrens ago. However, Apollo now realized the dangers inherent in hero worship. It was one thing to have respect for your commander, yet another to place him on a pedestal and pay him homage. To do that was to deny his humanity. Humans make mistakes, gods don't.

  Adama knew that there would be no rest for him until the mission was successfully completed. They could not afford to make mistakes now.

  There was a flurry of activity at the launch tubes of both battlestars as the strike wings prepared for launch. The launch crews of the Viper fighters hurriedly ran their systems checks and flight-suited pilots mounted the steps leading to the cockpits of their ships. Sitting in their cockpits, Boomer and Jolly started their engines, their faces calm and composed as they watched the indicator lights on their consoles. Through their helmet comcircuits, they heard the voices of their launch crews as they ran through the final checkpoints preparatory to flight. Apollo rested his hands lightly on the controls of his sleek fighter craft. He was in his element. His mind was in a state of meditative calm as he waited for the final countdown.

  Aboard the Pegasus, a flight-suited Commander Cain strode confidently across the landing bay, heading for a Viper fighter. Sheba intercepted him.

  "Father! What are you doing? I just found out you're going on this mission!"

  "It's just a routine strike, Sheba. Nothing to it."

  "Then why go?" she said, her face showing her concern. "We can't afford to risk losing you."

  "I have to go, Sheba."

  "But why?"

  "Are you questioning my judgment, pilot?"

  "No, sir, but—"

  Cain's expression softened for a moment. "I'll explain later, Sheba. Don't worry. I know what I'm doing."

  He turned and climbed into the cockpit of his Viper. Sheba wanted to protest, but he made it clear that there would be no questioning his decision. Besides, there was no time. She ran to her own Viper and vaulted into the cockpit. Within moments, she was hearing the voice of the launch officer through her helmet comcircuit.

  "Transferring control to Silver Spar Squadron. Launch when ready."

  Both Cain and Sheba fired their engines at the same time and their Viper fighters hurtled down the launch tubes and out into space.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Athena glanced up from her screens to give the launch report to her commander.

  "Blue Squadron launched and rendezvousing with Silver Spar Squadron from the Pegasus, sir."

  Adama nodded at his daughter. He knew how much Athena would have liked to have gone on that mission. She was an accomplished Viper pilot, but he needed her on the command bridge. Besides, he already had one of his children risking his life out there. He had to admit to himself the very real possibility that he could lose Apollo. He couldn't bear losing both of them.

  "It's kind of like the old days," said Colonel Tigh, standing by his side. "I mean the luxury of being able to divide the fighting load between two battlestars."

  "Yes," said Adama. "It's a real blessing. And so was finding Cain, with his knowledge of Cylon operations in this sector. Lord knows what would have happened if we'd stumbled into their territory."

  "In a way, it's almost providential that we ran out of fuel."

  The commander nodded. "Things do have a way of occurring in ways boggling to the mortal mind. Cain was a godsend."

  "With all due respect," said Tigh, "I think that remains to be seen."

  In the cockpit of his Viper, Boomer heard the voice of one of the pilots in the Silver Spar group coming through his comcircuit.

  "Four centons to target . . ."

  Boomer frowned. "Captain? Did that sound like . . . Cain?"

  "Commander Cain," the reply came back at once. "And don't speak unless spoken to, Flight Sergeant . . . Boomer, isn't it?"

  "Yes, sir, but—"

  "I make it a point to know every man in my command," said Cain. "Three centons to target."

  Apollo was perplexed. "Commander, I'm not picking up anything on my scanner. If we're only three centons to target—"

  "You won't find them on your scanner, Captain," Cain replied.

  "Then how—"

  "I can feel them, Captain. I can feel them out there. Just ahead, you should be picking up a reading or our target convoy. Judging by the rate of speed of a full tanker and their departure time, we should be coming within scanner range of our target shortly. So this is where we split up, before they know we're out here."

  "I thought we were going in as a single strike force," said Apollo.

  "Captain, they'll have at least a dozen escort fighters to throw against us. We'll do this my way. Blue Squadron, head straight in, Silver Spar, follow me . . ."

  As Cain's squadron separated from the main body, Boomer's voice came through Apollo's comcircuit. The man sounded dubious.

  "He's flying evasive tactics and we don't even have a target on our scanners," Boomer said.

  "I somehow have the feeling he knows what he's doing," said Apollo. "Anyway, we'll know in a micron. If Cain's right, we should—"

  At that moment, the target appeared on his scanner.

  "There she is," Apollo said. "A Cylon tanker."

  "I'll be a son of a . . ."

  "Make that two tankers," said Apollo, as a second image appeared on his scanner. However, the fact that he was reading their target meant that their target was also reading them. He now saw what Cain planned to do. He had sent Apollo's squadron straight in, into the Cylon's scanner range, while he would skirt their scanner range with his squadron, hitting them on their flank while they engaged Apollo. It was a sound strategy, but if he were late coming in . . .

  There was no sign of the fighter escort on his scanners. That made him worry. And then he saw them, racing out from behind the second tanker, coming in fast.

  "Here we go," he said. "Let's take 'em, Blue. And for God's sake, whatever you do, don't hit those tankers!"

  Blue Squadron came in hard and fast, the pilots peeling off from the formation at the last possible second. They were outnumbered four to one. As they engaged the Cylons, Apollo had no time to wonder where Cain was. He had his hands full.

  Almost at once, Boomer found himself with two ships on his tail. He fired at the ship ahead of him, missed, then used his thrusters to dart sideways at an angle, trying to get away from the laser fire that seemed to surround his cockpit in blinding light. He had to time it just right, waiting for his lasers to recycle, still it was impossible to be certain, for the two Cylon ships had not fired at the same time. He had only seconds in which to make his move and it could still wind up in his flying right into the path of one of their energy beams. He hit his thrusters and darted to one side, trying to get around behind the Cylons. His maneuver was successful, but one of their laser beams passed by so close that he was rattled for a moment and the Cylons were able to take advantage and recover.

  Apollo successfully evaded the ships converging upon him only to see that Jolly was in trouble and he could not go to his rescue. It was all he could do to keep avoiding the laser fire that seemed to be coming from all around him.

  "Roll, Jolly, he's on you!"

  "I can't lose him, Apollo," Jolly's voice came back
. "I'm in trouble!"

  Suddenly, a blast of laser fire hit the Cylon fighter behind Jolly and the ship exploded into a silent fireball.

  "Let's go get 'em!" Cain commanded, and to Apollo's immense relief, the Silver Spar Squadron joined the battle, taking the Cylons completely by surprise.

  "Thanks, whoever that was," Apollo heard Jolly's voice say shakily.

  "My pleasure," Cain replied. "Apollo . . . one your right wing!"

  Apollo saw the Cylon coming in fast, angling in and firing.

  "I've got him, Apollo," Sheba said, coming in almost on top of the Cylon and blowing him away.

  Apollo took advantage of the reprieve to nail a Cylon fighter of his own. Cain's surprise attack had resulted in almost half the Cylon escort flight being destroyed as they were concentrating their attention on Blue Squadron. Before the Cylons could rally, Apollo, Boomer and Jolly had each scored hits of their own.

  "They're running, Apollo!" Boomer shouted.

  Apollo heard Cain's orders coming through instantly.

  "Blue Squadron, two Cylon fighters peeling off and making a run for it—give pursuit."

  Even as he spoke, Cain was zooming in on the nearest tanker. A slow-moving craft, it couldn't possibly escape the Vipers. Cain lined the tanker up in his sights and fired. The Cylon tanker exploded into a giant fireball and Cain powered his way through the blaze before it could dissipate, taking a dead heading on the second tanker.

  Apollo closed with the sole remaining Cylon fighter. Its pilot wasn't even attempting to take evasive action. The Cylon was trying to outrun Apollo, but he was in range and it was an effort doomed to failure. Apollo had him in his sights. He thumbed the button that controlled his laser turrets and it was all over.

  "That's all of them," he said. "Now let's go back and escort those tankers in. We need that fuel."

  As he turned, Apollo saw Cain's fighter zooming down upon the tanker like a dreadnought. Cain fired. There were no tankers left to escort back to the fleet.

  "Commander?" said Apollo.

  Cain's voice sounded crisp and neutral over the comcircuit as he replied.

  "Yes, what is it, Captain?"