Battlestar Galactica 7 - War Of The Gods

by Glen A. Larson

  Athena entered.

  "Father? Come with me," she said. "I want you to attend the games."

  "I'm sorry, Athena," said Adama morosely. "I can't think of the games at a time like this."

  "Father, you sound just like Apollo," she said. "He's decided not to play tonight. It's almost started a revolution within the ships. He's going to be breaking up the most popular team."

  "So that's why you want me there," Adama said, smiling. "To convince Apollo to play."

  "Father, I don't think you understand how much these games have come to mean to everyone," Athena said. "At least you have command to occupy your thoughts. Some of these people have nothing but the games to look forward to."

  "Yes," said Adama, "and I've heard that the wagering and rivalries are causing trouble within the fleet."

  "Tonight is a special game. A championship. If Apollo doesn't play . . ."

  Adama sighed. "Very well. I can't force him to compete. But I will speak to him."

  "Thank you, Father."

  Starbuck sat on a bench before his locker, wrapping his hands in polymesh tape as Boomer came in and sat beside him to change for the game.

  "Without Apollo," Boomer said, "I believe I'm about to win my first championship."

  "Thanks for the confidence, Boomer," Starbuck said, "but I can take you even with a substitute."

  "You're taking this pretty well for a guy about to lose a championship over some petty jealousy," said Boomer.

  "Apollo's not playing hasn't got anything to do with Count Iblis and Sheba," Starbuck said. "I don't feel any better about playing this game than Apollo. Eight of our best men have disappeared without a trace, we're about to turn over the command of the fleet to some stranger we know nothing about, simply because he's pulled some sort of hocus pocus that's pulled the wool over the eyes of everyone in the Council but Adama and here we are, wagering, laughing, shouting . . . It doesn't seem right."

  "But you're going through with it," said Boomer.

  "Yeah, well, you and I get out of these metal boxes once in a while. It keeps us from going crazy. What about the rest of the people in the fleet? Some of them have nothing else in their lives except the little entertainment that these games provide."

  He finished wrapping his hands, then slipped the gloves on.

  "Besides," Starbuck added, "it helps me get rid of some of my hostilities. So look out."

  The spectators were beginning to file into the stadium as Starbuck walked out onto the court. Doc Hansen, a young bearded med tech, waited for him nervously.

  "What do you say, Doc?" said Starbuck. "Ready to play with the big boys?"

  Hansen did not look happy. He shook his head sadly and glanced up at the stands nervously.

  "I don't know, Starbuck," he said. "Are you sure you wouldn't be better off playing with someone else?"

  Starbuck frowned. "What's gotten into you?"

  Hansen once again looked up at the rapidly filling stands. He saw that some people were staring back down at him, puzzled.

  "Apollo's your teammate," Hansen said. "These folks are waiting to see you and Apollo play."

  "Well, Apollo doesn't want to play," said Starbuck. "There's not much I can do about that. You'll just have to do the best you can, that's all."

  "That isn't what I'm worrying about," said Hansen. "When these folks find out that I'm going to be your partner instead of Apollo, they're going to lynch me!"

  "Hmmm," said Starbuck. "I hadn't thought of that."

  "What should I do?" said Hansen, growing more upset by the moment.

  "Try shaving off your beard and walkin' around like you've got a broomstick up your ass," said Starbuck. "Maybe that'll fool 'em."

  Apollo was lying on his bunk in his quarters, staring up at the ceiling. The door to his cabin opened and his adopted son, Boxey, entered with his daggit droid, Muffy. Apollo sat up.

  "Boxey! I've been looking all over for you. Where've you been?"

  The boy continued to stare at Apollo without saying anything. After a moment, he turned and started to walk out again.

  "Boxey, hold on . . ."

  The boy paid no attention. Apollo quickly jumped up and ran in front of the door, blocking his son's exit. Boxey wouldn't even look at him.

  "Young man, I was talking to you," Apollo said. "Now since when do you just walk out without giving me a hug?"

  Apollo started to pull the boy close to him, but Boxey strained against him, pulling away. Apollo frowned. He looked intently into the boy's eyes.

  "Boxey . . . what is it? This isn't like you. We've always talked straight to each other, you and I. What's bothering you?"

  No answer.

  "Maybe you'll tell me, Muffy." Apollo reached his hand out to the droid in an attempt to lighten the moment. "What's the matter with Boxey?"

  The daggit droid started backing up and growling at him.

  "Hey, now what is this?" said Apollo, beginning to grow angry. "What's going on? Now, I mean it. I want an answer right this micron."

  Boxey looked down at the floor.

  "My friends all say that you're a coward," the boy said in a small voice.

  "A coward? Boxey . . . you aren't serious. Why would they say a thing like that?"

  "They say you're afraid to play in the games," said Boxey. "That you're afraid of losing."

  "Afraid?" said Apollo. He reached out and took hold of the boy's arms. "Why would I be afraid? We've got the best team in the fleet. We can beat anybody."

  "Count Iblis says that Boomer's team is going to win."

  "Since when does Count Iblis know anything about triad?" said Apollo.

  "They're saying that you're afraid that if you lose, it'll prove that Count Iblis is smarter than your father. That he should be our new leader. I don't want my father to be a coward," Boxey said.

  "Look, son," said Apollo, "I know it's a little complicated for a young boy to understand, but my not playing in the games has nothing to do with my father. It has to do with wasting my time and laughing and carrying on like nothing is wrong while friends of mine may be out there dying someplace. Now can you understand that?"

  Boxey lowered his head.

  "I . . . I guess so."

  "Good," said Apollo. "Now you go and tell your friends that I said it doesn't matter who wins the games. They're there to be enjoyed. And I'd be just as happy to see Boomer win for a change."

  Boxey nodded and turned to go. At that moment his daggit droid began to growl. The boy glanced up to see Adama standing in the doorway. As he stepped into the light, the droid's visual sensors recognized him and the daggit, appropriately responding to programming, barked and wagged its tail.

  "He didn't mean to growl at you, Commander," Boxey said, apologetically. "He just didn't recognize you at first. He's a good daggit, he really is."

  Adama chuckled. "Of course he is." He kneeled down and the droid waddled over to him, nudging his chest and making artificial panting noises. "There, boy, ha-ha, there you go," said Adama, laughing and pummeling the droid. "You're a good daggit, aren't you, boy? A good old droid." He rose. Now you run along and do as your father said."

  "Yes, sir," said Boxey. "Come on, Muffy."

  The little droid scurried after the boy. Adama glanced up at Apollo and smiled.

  "It isn't easy, is it, son?" he said.

  "No," said Apollo, shaking his head. "How can I explain my feelings to a small child when I can't even explain them to myself?"

  "I thought you did a good job," said Adama. "I'm not sure you're right, but you were honest. That's all anyone can ask."

  "You, of all people, think that I should play?" Apollo said.

  Adama sat down on the bunk beside his son.

  "Is it going to serve any purpose to sit alone in your quarters and think about those missing warriors?" he said.

  "Why don't we send out another patrol?" Apollo said.

  "And lose them, too?"

  "Then let me force Count Iblis to tell us what's ha
ppening," Apollo said. "I can't believe that those ships simply disappeared. If they'd exploded, we'd have found traces of debris, something. Our scanners should have picked up some sign of them. I think those white ships or whatever they are have something to do with it. And with Count Iblis. I know he knows where our warriors are!"

  "Dealing with Count Iblis is my responsibility," Adama said. "Don't make it more difficult for me. Don't give me a fleet full of outraged enthusiasts because my son wouldn't show up to play in the championship. It would only further serve Count Iblis."

  "That never occurred to me," Apollo said.

  "He's already a very popular man," Adama said. "I think half the fleet is ready to follow him right now."

  "Well, if my not playing in the games is going to shift the balance his way," said Apollo, "then I guess I've got to play."

  "You won't be doing our missing warriors a disservice," said Adama. "You may even be helping them."

  Apollo stood up and nodded. Adama got up and embraced his son.

  "Okay, I'll play," Apollo said, "but on one condition. You have to watch the games."

  "Accepted," said Adama.

  A very relieved Hansen fled back to the locker room when Apollo walked out onto the court to a standing ovation. As soon as the crowd had realized that Hansen would be taking Apollo's place, they had booed him and cans of baharri had rained down upon him. He had lost his temper and called them a bunch of combrids with nictitating membranes and it had only resulted in more garbage being thrown. When Apollo arrived, Hansen was only too glad to leave the court.

  "Well, so much for my moment of glory," Boomer said, seeing Apollo walk out on the court.

  Sheba and Count Iblis sat in the first tier just behind and above him. Count Iblis leaned down.

  "Well, this is a bit of a surprise," he said. "I didn't expect that he would show up."

  "Well, he has and there goes the game," said Boomer.

  "Don't give up before you even begin, Boomer," Sheba said. "You're good."

  "Apollo's better," Boomer said. "I'd give anything to beat him and Starbuck just once."

  "I'd heard you felt that way," Count Iblis said. "Maybe I can help."

  Boomer shook his head. "Nothing can beat skill."

  "The commander's son is a bit too sure of himself," Count Iblis said. "That weakness can be exploited."

  "I can see you've never played triad against Starbuck and Apollo."

  Count Iblis smiled. "I'd like to," he said. "Through you. How badly do you want to win?"

  Boomer stared at Count Iblis long and hard. The claxon sounded the ready call and the two teams moved to take their positions.

  Adama entered the stadium and sat down in the first tier, opposite Count Iblis. The two men looked across at each other. There was determination in Adama's face. He stared at Count Iblis with an unwavering glare. Something in Count Iblis' eyes seemed to glitter.

  A hush settled down over the spectators' gallery as the players on the triad court took their positions. Boomer and Apollo were in the forward positions, facing each other across the starting line. Starbuck was playing back. Apollo glanced at Boomer's teammate. Boomer had chosen to play with none other than the young junior council member, Edbryn. Of course, Boomer had to play with a substitute. His regular partner, Greenbean, was . . .

  Edbryn looked a little nervous. Still, the junior council member had never been one to put on any great show of emotions. He was steadfast and level-headed, liked by everyone in the fleet. More than once, his dry sense of humor had scored points on Starbuck and Apollo, who both seemed to him to be a bit on the flamboyant side. Nevertheless, what he undertook to do, he did to his utmost and, although he had never played in a championship triad game before, Apollo knew that he would go all out. Apollo saw him standing on the far side of the court, his legs slightly spread, his eyes alert, his long hair held by a lithium clasp at the nape of his neck. It would be an interesting match, Apollo thought, with Edbryn pitted against Starbuck. The two were completely opposite in every way. Edbryn would be a competitive player, Apollo thought, but his chief concern would be with Boomer. Boomer was good and Boomer wanted desperately to win. Apollo almost wanted to let him. He realized how much it would mean to Boomer, but he also knew that Boomer was a good enough player to realize if he were being given in to. No, Apollo would have to play all out. Besides, it was the only way he knew how to play.

  The two forwards squared off against each other. It was completely silent in the stadium.

  The claxon sounded the start of the game.

  Almost at the same instant that the claxon sounded, Boomer lashed out with a swift and brutal side kick directly into Apollo's solar plexus. So quickly had Boomer moved, Apollo had been taken completely by surprise. It seemed to him that Boomer jumped the gun, but there was no time to speculate on that. Even through the polymesh protective vest he wore, Apollo felt the incredible force of the kick. Momentarily winded, he doubled over and, as he did so, Boomer came down on him with a savage overhead blow that landed on Apollo's nysteel helmet. The helmet protected Apollo from injury, but even so, it felt like a gong went off inside his head. For a moment, he saw stars and he fell to the floor. Boomer was by him in an instant, moving on the offensive. The only thing between him and the ball was Starbuck.

  "Kobol, Boomer was a little rough there, wasn't he?" Athena said, wincing at the blow he had dealt to Apollo. "There was no need for that second blow, he could have gotten by him after the first one."

  "Well, Boomer did say he wanted to win," said Sheba. "I guess he decided to pull out all the stops."

  Count Iblis sat perfectly still, leaning forward, staring down at the court with a wild intensity. If those who sat near him had not been so absorbed in the game, they might have been startled by the savagery of his expression. His eyes were blazing with an unholy light.

  Starbuck had been shocked at the fury of Boomer's assault on his teammate and the speed with which it had been executed. Still, it was a rough game and Starbuck knew that Boomer wanted to win the championship more than anything. The spectators had erupted into wild shouting when Apollo went down. Boomer charged across the line. Apollo was still stunned. Starbuck steeled himself for the confrontation, knowing that with Apollo still out of the game, he was the only thing that stood between Boomer and Edbryn making the first score.

  The moment that Boomer touched the ball, Starbuck moved. He hurtled across the court at Boomer.

  Edbryn was also moving, getting into position to take a pass from Boomer and make a shot.

  The circles began to flash upon the walls.

  Boomer saw Starbuck coming at him hard. He cocked his right arm and hurled the nysteel ball with all his might, directly at Starbuck's unprotected face.

  Starbuck sensed, rather than saw, what was coming. Yahrens of training and experience as a crack Viper pilot had given him lightning-quick reactions. As he ran, unable to slow his momentum, he felt the ball coming at him and he planed out into a forward dive, passing only inches beneath the ball. Had he not flattened out into the dive, the nysteel ball would have struck him right in the face, rupturing flesh, shattering bone, very possibly even killing him if it hit just right.

  The ball passed over him and slammed into the wall, rebounding crazily. Edbryn leaped for it, caught it in his polymesh gloves and spun around, flinging it at a lit five circle. The ball struck on target and the bell sounded, announcing the score. The crowd cheered, but there were a few dissenting voices expressing their disapproval of Boomer's highly unorthodox tactics.

  Edbryn ran, jumped, and caught his own rebound.

  Apollo was rising to his feet, shaking his head like a stunned bull, trying to clear his blurry vision.

  Starbuck got up off the floor.

  "Boomer!" he said. "What the hell—"

  The ball was still in play.

  Edbryn passed to Boomer.

  Boomer caught the ball and turned, continuing the same motion, using the hand holding the ball to
knock Starbuck off his feet again even as he spoke.

  Starbuck felt the blow of nysteel against the side of his helmet and rolled with it, diffusing some of its impact. Boomer had gone crazy, he thought as he went down.

  Boomer jumped up and shot the ball with both hands at an empty section of the wall. To the crowd, it appeared as though he was throwing the ball away, but just before it hit the wall, a ten circle flashed on and the ball struck home. The bell sounded and Boomer's team was leading by fifteen. The crowd went wild.

  "How did he know the ten would flash on just then?" said Athena. "He couldn't possibly have anticipated the computer!"

  Sheba shrugged. "Just lucky, I guess."

  Count Iblis smiled slowly.

  Adama frowned. The triad games had always been pretty rough, but this was getting out of hand. Boomer was completely carried away and he was playing way beyond the margin of safety. He wanted to stop the game, but to do so would surely cause a riot. He sat back in his seat and set his teeth. He watched his son, who had finally recovered enough to get back into the game.

  Apollo had taken the rebound. He was still a little woozy. What in the name of Kobol had gotten into Boomer? This was getting serious, he thought. The first chance he got, he'd try to tell Boomer to relax, to loosen up. This was going too far. The crowd was becoming dangerously agitated.

  Edbryn took position to cover Starbuck, trying to prevent a pass from Apollo. They jockeyed for position, Starbuck trying to fake him out and get clear, Edbryn trying to stay with him.

  Boomer was bearing down on Apollo.

  "Boomer," said Apollo, "will you for God's sake . . ." his voice trailed off.

  There was a completely blank expression on Boomer's face. He appeared to be in some sort of shock, moving like some somnambulistic juggernaut.

  Boomer slammed into Apollo at top speed, smashing them both into the wall. Apollo held onto the ball with all his might. He almost dropped it, just the same, so hard did Boomer hit him.

  Wrenching to the side, Apollo jerked the ball away with both hands, then pivoted sharply, slamming the ball into Boomer's side.