The defending players had to attempt to anticipate the play of the offensive team, so that they could cover a target circle and either deflect the ball or regain control of it, in which case they became the offensive team. Passing was permitted in the game, but only if the ball was rebounded off one of the walls. An interception gave a defender offensive status and the next scoring opportunity.
Starbuck and Apollo were both sweating, the result of their exertions in what had thus far been a fairly evenly matched game against Boomer and Greenbean. The galleries were going wild in full appreciation of a fast, closely matched bout.
Starbuck and Boomer squared off against each other in center court to begin the final period of play. The claxon sounded and Starbuck instantly executed a lightning fast double roundhouse kick, alternately striking first at Boomer's left temple, then his right. Boomer blocked the first kick with his forearm, but Starbuck scored a hit with his second kick, striking Boomer's helmet just above his temple. Boomer grunted and staggered for a moment, during which time Starbuck attempted to bolt past him. As he drew level with Boomer, the latter executed a foot sweep and Starbuck went down to the floor of the court like a ton of bricks. They were now both in the defensive corridor. Apollo and Greenbean watched anxiously from the rear of each side of the court, each man ready to dart instantly to either side the moment that the ball was touched. Until that time, neither man was allowed to move.
Boomer dived down on Starbuck in an attempt to sit on him and pin him, prone, to the floor, but Starbuck rolled to one side and regained his feet. Both men stood up, breathing heavily, each watching for an opportunity to make a sirike. The fans were screaming, exhorting them to combat.
Starbuck kept moving from side to side, trying to fake Boomer out so that he could dash by him, but Boomer responded to his every move, interposing his body between Starbuck and the ball. Starbuck feinted a forward lunge, then used his momentum to spin around. While he was spinning, he brought his rear leg around in a vicious arc, using the momentum of his spin to impart force to the wheel kick. His heel caught Boomer in the side, just above his kidney. Had not Boomer been wearing his protective polymesh vest, the force of the strike could well have crippled him. As it was, he was stunned and Starbuck rushed by him, running to the far wall to pick up the ball. The moment that he touched the ball, triad was in session.
The audience supporting his team broke into a spontaneous chant.
"Star-buck, Star-buck, Star-buck, Star-buck . . ."
Starbuck picked up the ball. Boomer and Greenbean were both in motion, Boomer moving toward Starbuck in an attempt to block a scoring throw or a pass to Apollo, Greenbean moving to cover Apollo, trying to stay with him as Apollo attempted to fake him out and get clear for a pass.
Starbuck feinted with a scoring throw at the ten circle, and as Boomer leapt up to block the shot, Starbuck turned quickly and rammed the ball into the wall to his immediate right. The ball caroomed off the wall, the angle of the rebound causing it to pass behind Greenbean and into Apollo's outstretched hands.
The loud slap of the ball against Apollo's protective gloves reverberated throughout the court.
Apollo cocked his arm to throw at the five circle opposite him, but instead threw the ball back to Starbuck, bouncing it off the wall to his left. The ball hit the wall and rebounded at a geometrically impossible angle, its wild flight due to the unstable properties of polymesh nysteel. Starbuck failed to anticipate the ball's flightpath and it passed him, to bounce off the third wall. Boomer spun to catch the rebound, but the ball came back high and, as Boomer flexed his legs to make a leap for it, Starbuck ran two steps forward and "climbed" Boomer's back, stepping between his shoulder blades and launching himself upward to catch the ball. It slapped into his gloves and before he could touch down again, Starbuck turned in midair like a highdiver and hurled the ball at a ten circle. It struck microns before the circle winked out and a bell sounded, announcing the score. Almost at the same time, the claxon rang out, ending the final period and the game. Starbuck and Apollo won by a narrow margin of ten points.
The two players were almost instantly mobbed by their fans, who jumped down out of the galleries and onto the court, thronging around their favorites in spite of all efforts of the security personnel to hold them back.
"Off the court, off the court," the head security guard kept shouting, to no avail. "Come on, people, this is strictly forbidden. Let's get these guys out of here."
Athena pushed through the guards and rushed up to Starbuck and her brother. Sheba came through right behind her.
"You were incredible tonight, incredible," Athena said, grinning widely.
"We got some lucky boards," Apollo said.
Starbuck laughed. "Speak for yourself, partner. I was brilliant."
"I'll second that," Athena said. "Now what can I do to reward you for your excellence?" The look she gave Starbuck was outrageously flirtatious.
"Give me a few centons to change," he said. "I'm sure I'll be able to think of something."
They linked arms and moved off the court together as the security guards tried to make a path for them. Hands kept reaching out and slapping Starbuck on the back.
"Well," said Sheba to Apollo, "I don't know if I'd go so far as to say you were incredible, but I might be able to grant that you were reasonably proficient and buy you a drink."
"Generous, very generous," said Apollo. "You've got a deal. I'll meet you in the Officer's Club back aboard the Galactica."
Sheba turned and pushed back through the crowd as Apollo turned to Boomer, who was still a bit groggy from having been forced to the ground by Starbuck's use of him as a stepladder.
"Nice play, Boomer," said Apollo.
"Yeah, sure," mumbled Boomer morosely. "Just once, I'd like to beat you two. Just once."
"Don't worry about it, Boomer. I'm sure there's something you're good at." Apollo grinned.
"For that, you're buying," Boomer said, laughing. "You're starting to sound too much like Starbuck for my tastes."
As the security guards struggled to keep the crowd under control, Tigh broke through the press.
"I'm afraid nobody's buying," he said tersely. "Emergency meeting in the War Room."
"Hey, Tigh," said Apollo, "we're not even on standby."
"Yeah, have a heart, Colonel," Boomer added, "we've just run ourselves ragged playing triad. I need a drink."
"You may need one even more when you find out what's happened," Tigh said.
They wasted no time in changing and getting back aboard the shuttle that would take them to the Galactica. Once on the shuttle, they started pumping Tigh for information concerning what had happened. They didn't like what they heard at all.
The mood in the War Room of the Battlestar Galactica was a somber one. Adama, Tigh, Starbuck, Apollo, Sheba and Boomer stood before the star map.
"They disappeared here," said Adama, pointing to the map, "in this sector."
"No transmissions of any kind?" said Apollo.
Tigh and Adama exchanged looks.
"We received the automatic fleet distress signal," Tigh said.
"Since then," said Adama, "nothing. Four Viper fighters have simply vanished."
Apollo licked his lips nervously and moved up to the map.
"What about here? What kind of land mass is indicated?"
Adama moved to the scanner, checking computer readings and information tapes.
"We don't know," he said after a moment, shaking his head. "However, seismic readings indicate something has happened there within a time frame that could have a bearing on our missing ships. I realize I'm imposing on your rest period, but—"
"You don't have to say it, Commander," Sheba said. "Bojay is like family to me. He's all that's left from . . ."
Her voice trailed off. She didn't have to finish the sentence. They all knew what she was talking about, what must have been going through her mind. Bojay was the only other person aboard the Galactica who served with She
ba on the Pegasus, the scarred battlestar commanded by her father, Cain. The Juggernaut. And no one knew if he was dead or alive. Bojay was her only link to the past. They had flown together in the same squadron. The Silver Spar squadron now made its base aboard the Battlestar Galactica, but none of the original members was left.
"I'll get my gear," said Sheba.
Apollo watched her leave, striding purposefully out of the War Room.
"Maybe sending her is a mistake," he said softly. "There's been no trace of her father or the Pegasus since his disappearance. Now, losing Bojay . . ."
Starbuck shook his head.
"I disagree that emotion could be a factor in finding those four pilots," he said. "We're all equally affected and equally motivated. Jolly is like a brother to me."
Apollo glanced at his father.
"I guess we've got the right team, then," he said.
"Apollo," Adama said, "don't take any chances. If they're not on that planet, then . . ."
Apollo nodded grimly. "I know. They wouldn't have had fuel enough to have been in continuous flight since they left. If we don't find them, we'll come right back."
They both pivoted smart about-faces and left the room together. Adama watched Starbuck and Apollo as they left, thinking how much they both reminded him of the way he had been when he was young. He hoped fervently that they would both have a chance to feel that way about their sons someday.
"Commander," said Tigh, "that seismic reading . . . I don't like the implications of it. It's too sudden and abortive to be a core tremor. More likely, it was an explosion of some kind."
"But it's hardly likely that four Viper fighters crashed simultaneously," said Adama.
"No, but they could have been on the ground when whatever it was hit."
Adama took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Let's withhold speculation for a while," he said. "We'll know soon enough."
CHAPTER TWO
They drew lots to determine who would remain behind as backup in case they had to send for another Viper in a hurry. Standard operating procedure dictated that any rescue recon mission in which the probability of there being no survivors was high could number no more than three Viper fighters. It was, perhaps, a harsh regulation, but then in a situation where the fleet could come under attack at almost any time, it was necessary to conserve their fighting strength as much as possible. Besides, they could not afford to lose Vipers. Boomer lost the draw.
Starbuck, Apollo and Sheba suited up and entered the cockpits of their Viper fighters, went through their pre-flight checks and waited for the word to launch. It came from Tigh over their helmet comcircuits.
They kicked in their turbos and hurtled down the launch lubes. As always, there was that sudden pressure against their chests as they were slammed back against their seats, as if held there by a giant hand. Then, there was the magical sensation that no one ever really got over, the wonder of that first moment in which the fighter ship cleared the launch tubes and hurtled into the deep velvet dark of space.
They formed into triangle formation as they set course to match that taken by the lost recon patrol. Each of them was alone with their own thoughts. It could have been any one of them. There was no telling what had happened. They could have run into some freak cosmic storm. They could have blundered into a Cylon patrol. There was an infinite number of possibilities.
The planet loomed before them.
"What do you think?" said Starbuck, anxious to break the tense, unaccustomed silence.
"Tell you in a flash," Apollo said. He punched up his scanner. A grim reading confronted him.
"NO LIFE FORMS . . . NO LIFE FORMS . . . NO LIFE FORMS . . ."
"You got it?" said Apollo.
"Yeah," said Starbuck, seeing the same reading flash across his own ship's scanner. He sounded suddenly weary.
"I wonder why no life forms," Sheba's voice came over their comcircuit. "The planet seems to have the appropriate atmospheric conditions."
"It's possible that no travelers from the Colonies ever made it out this far," Apollo said.
"At least if they did, they didn't hang around for some reason," Starbuck said.
"That doesn't bode well for the direction we're heading in to find the lost thirteenth tribe," said Sheba.
"One problem at a time," Apollo said. "Let's take 'em down."
The three Vipers angled down toward the pale red planet and entered its atmosphere. Their engines roared like angry beasts as the ships skimmed low over the planet's surface.
"Starbuck . . . Apollo . . . look at the color of the vegetation," Sheba said. "It's all red."
"Maybe it's all dead," Starbuck said.
"Let's find a place to set down and have a look," said Apollo.
"There!" said Starbuck. "Just over that rise. Take a look at that."
It was an incredibly large area that had been completely burned out.
"Looks like something big hit here," said Apollo.
"I got it on visual," said Starbuck. "Just to the left of center. Some kind of wreckage. Kobol, whatever it was must have been huge."
"Let's swing around and go in," Apollo said.
The Vipers banked and came around once more. Like giant birds sweeping in for a landing, they set down on the soft red grass just beyond the crest of the crater.
Apollo was the first to pop up his canopy and drop to the ground. He quickly surveyed the area. Behind him, a short distance away, Starbuck was climbing out of his ship. Sheba was already running toward him across the grassy red meadow. They gathered together beside Apollo's ship.
"There's something very strange about this place," said Starbuck. "What's that smell?"
"I don't know," Apollo said. "I've never smelled anything like it. But it has a pungent, decaying sort of flavor." He made a face. "It isn't very pleasant, whatever it is."
Starbuck plucked some grass up from between his feet. He rubbed the blades with his fingers, then smelled them.
"This is what it is," he said. "But this stuff isn't dead."
"And that's not all that's alive," said Apollo.
Starbuck and Sheba saw that he was staring off into the distance, at the crest of the crater. They followed his gaze.
A lone figure stood at the crest of the hill, strangely backlighted. His cloak billowed in the breeze. The wind seemed to gain strength and a bolt of lightning stabbed down from the blood red sky.
"I thought the scanners read no life forms," said Starbuck.
"Obviously an erroneous reading," Apollo said, although he didn't sound quite sure of himself.
As they watched, the man standing on the ridge turned and disappeared into the crater.
"Whoever he is, he doesn't want to talk," Apollo said. "Let's see why."
All three took off up the hill toward the ridge at a dead run. They were slightly winded when they reached the crest. Their expressions showed their confusion.
Before them, in the crater, was a blackened area devoid of any signs of life. In the center of the crater were the skeletal remains of a mammoth ship that had crashed and burned.
"Where did he go?" said Sheba.
"That's a very good question," said Apollo.
"Damn. Look at that thing," said Starbuck. "I thought it looked huge from the air, but this . . ."
Apollo unstrapped his portable scanner from his leg.
"Let's go down and have a look," he said.
They started down the hill.
"I wouldn't go down there," said a voice from behind them.
They spun around, startled.
An incredible vision confronted them. Standing on the crest of the crater, where they had stood only microns ago, was the man they had seen earlier. He was of slightly above average height and he appeared to be human. His face had a chisled, patrician look about it and his hair was black and swept back from his forehead. He had a regal bearing, all the more accentuated by his amazing apparel. He was dressed in robes made of a white, velvety materi
al with a collar that stood high above his head. He made no move toward them, merely stood still and composed on the top of the ridge.
"The radion levels are extremely high down there," he said.
Apollo stared at him. "Where in Kobol did you come from?"
"Where did you come from?" countered the man, raising his eyebrows.
The three warriors exchanged uncertain looks.
"What is this place?" said Starbuck. "And who are you?"
"Who are you?" the man countered again.
"Look," said Apollo, "this game isn't getting us anyplace."
"Ah, but I was here first," said the man. His voice seemed to hold a slightly mocking edge.
"We mean you no harm," Apollo said. "We're friends. You're obviously human. If you want our help, we're more than ready to assist you."
"It's more likely that I can help you," the man said.
"How?" said Starbuck. "Are there others like you?"
"Not here," came the reply.
"But in some other place?"
"Many!"
Apollo and Starbuck glanced at each other and saw that each of them was thinking that the man could very likely be unbalanced.
"That ship . . ." said Sheba, pointing at the burned-out hulk that dwarfed them all.
"Yes."
"How did it crash?"
"It was destroyed," he said.
"By whom?" said Apollo.
"The great powers," the man replied cryptically.
"Do you mean the Cylon Empire?" said Sheba.
"No."
"Then just who are these powers?" Sheba persisted.
"It's difficult to explain," the stranger said. "Can we move away from here? I don't want to be reminded of what happened to my people."
He turned and started walking down the hill, in the direction of their ships. Apollo glanced down at his scanner. He tapped it slightly with his hand.
"What is it?" said Starbuck.
"He doesn't give off a reading," Apollo said. "No brain waves, no pulse, nothing."
Starbuck gave Apollo a wry look, then unstrapped his own scanner and aimed it toward the departing man. The stranger was almost out of sight behind the ridge. He stopped in his tracks and spoke to them without looking back.
Battlestar Galactica 7 - War Of The Gods Page 2
