The massive door concealing the battlestars had been damaged in the first blast and would not fully open. The fleet was trapped aboard the asteroid. They would have to train the battlestars's firepower on the door from within and blow their way out.
The basestar's second level of cannons fired, training their planet-rending force on one spot on the asteroid. Explosion after explosion leaped across the surface of the artificial construct, geysers of fire leaping high into the air.
The asteroid began to crumble, and as the unstable Tylium mine reacted to the plasma bursts, the asteroid erupted in a blaze of blinding flame that, to anyone watching from the surface of the planet, looked like a new star being born.
And then, the new star began its long, horrible tumble toward the surface of Kobol, marking its passage in the heavens with a jagged, flaming tail.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE FLAMING asteroid seemed to move in slow motion through its new course in the sky, heading inexorably to the planet's atmosphere. As it fell, the Tylium veins that snaked through the asteroid exploded, sending huge, flaming divots spinning away from the main body, and these, also, exploded into smaller fragments.
Their erratic course sent them tumbling into several Cylon Raiders, crushing them outright, but that was of scant consolation to the survivors who could only watch in mute horror as so many friends and loved ones came to such a terrible end. Human grief meant nothing to the Cylons; the basestar's launch bay windows opened and more Raiders roared forth, while the original armada began to set down on Kobol's battle-pocked surface.
"Keep moving," Apollo heard himself say; he was in a state of shock, but he could not let that interfere with his obligation to his people. They had trusted him with their lives by remaining on the planet with him; he would do his best to justify their faith.
"Your sister just died, Apollo," Starbuck said, a tear falling from his eye. His voice was thick with emotion. "My daughter and your son just died! It'd be all right to be a little human, you know."
"What do you want me to do?" Apollo snapped. He was hurting worse than he would allow anyone to see, and Starbuck, of all people, should have known that. But then, as Starbuck had rightly pointed out, his daughter had just perished up there as well. "I don't have the luxury right now of mourning, and neither do you!" he said, and jabbed his finger into Starbuck's chest. He hated talking so bluntly, so coldly, to his dearest friend, but their chance of survival was growing smaller by the micron. It would avail them nothing to give themselves over to grief now.
Starbuck's jaw muscles tightened and tensed, but he said nothing. Apollo was right, of course. But, still…
"All right," he said through gritted teeth. "What do we do?"
Apollo recognized this part of the city, knew the kiosk that led downward to the crystal city was nearby. They might still survive this, if the collapsing cavern roof had not buried the entrance. But, one disaster at a time, he told himself. "You, Sheba, and Boomer take up the rear," he ordered. "Everyone else, follow me."
He began running for the only hope they had now, and he had to force himself not to look heavenward, through the rend in the cavern roof, as if he could possibly catch one last glimpse of the fleet's funeral pyre, the star that was his sister, as it made its final return to Kobol.
It takes a tremendous amount of strength sometimes to just hang on, but it took even more to simply let go.
The first of the Cylon ground troops landed and immediately began unloading mech soldiers and their weapons. They launched their flying attack droid, and it swooped down into the caverns housing the underground city. The attack droid resembled a Raider, with its disquieting curves and arclike, forward-swept wings, and, in lieu of a canopy window, it had the same long, narrow aperture as the Cylons themselves had, from which emitted fine, concentrated beams of ruby light. It soared along the surviving rooftops, thermal imaged a large cluster of heat sources, and streaked toward them, transmitting the images back to the ground troops.
As one, the troops began to march forward.
* * *
Apollo had managed to find the building housing the kiosk that led down into the hidden city; it had not been crushed under falling debris from the collapsing cavern, as he had feared. Unfortunately, the attack droid had found them, as well. He stood at the base of the winding staircase, studying the sigils etched into the stone walls. The snippet of song almost came to him… like a bit of song that never quite leaves one's head, but refuses to step forward and be finally identified.
The attack droid swirled down the spiral stone staircase, skimming over the heads of the colonials, startling those who reacted quickly enough to catch a glimpse of it before it moved on. At the ' base of the steps, it targeted Apollo and the others nearest him, but Gar'Tokk's keen senses had been alerted by its shrill, almost imperceptible whine. Certainly, no human ears could have detected it. He spotted the source of the sound at once, but the attack droid had already powered up its deadly turbolaser charge. GarTokk flung himself between Apollo and the blast without thought or hesitation.
Apollo turned, just in time to watch in horror as the laser sliced into Gar'Tokk's massive chest. Apollo's sidearm was in his hand immediately, before Gar'Tokk's twitching, still-smoking body had hit the ground, and he fired at the droid, his first shot splashing off its arclike wing. The droid was shoved back by Apollo's shot, where it whanged against the wall and dropped to the floor, but it was up again at once, its red aperture glowing brighter as if it were angry at the attack. It prepared to defend itself. Apollo fired again, catching the droid straight-on, and this time, when it fell, it did not get up.
Apollo holstered his sidearm and knelt beside Gar'Tokk, wincing at the severity of the wound the Noman had taken for him. Apollo didn't see how it was possible, but Gar'Tokk was still alive, and he opened his eyes and forced a weak smile to his lips. "Looks like I've… finally paid my debt to you…" Gar'Tokk managed to say.
Apollo nodded, biting his lower lip. "Looks like," he said. But how would he ever repay his debt to GarTokk?
The wound GarTokk suffered was ghastly to behold; the laser had cauterized the nerves and veins even as it punched its fatal hole through his chest, so there was little blood, but the internal damage was great—too great for even GarTokk to walk away from. Organs Apollo couldn't recognize had been exposed by the blast, and they had all suffered trauma of one degree or another.
"I didn't… do this… for no reason, you know," GarTokk reminded him, managing to point his numb fingers toward the secret entrance to the crystal city beneath their feet.
Apollo nodded; GarTokk was right. There was no time to say goodbye to Athena, or Cain, or the Noman he had come to consider a close friend. He stood and, with great effort, turned his back on GarTokk and concentrated once more on the sigils before him.
Now that Gar'Tokk's debt to Apollo had been paid, the Borellian Nomen once more recognized him as one of their own, and jumped down from their places on the winding stone staircase to hustle to his side, to offer what aid or comfort they could. It wasn't much, but it was better than dying alone and apart.
The line of civilians wound through the narrow back streets of the city, like people waiting for some overly hyped band to take the stage. Bringing up the rear of the line were Starbuck, Boomer, and Sheba, keeping their eyes open for Cylon ground forces; they didn't have to wait long. Starbuck noticed the approaching Centurions first, and alerted Boomer, Sheba, and the Warriors nearest them. Starbuck grabbed his comm-line and shouted down to Apollo, "Hurry up and pay the frackin' toll, will you? We've got some new neighbors up here, and they don't look happy to see us!"
Starbuck drew his sidearm instinctively and fired at the advancing Cylons; the laser pistol fired, and only when it slammed into the first Centurion did Starbuck remember that Iblis had drained its power. Apparently, the Count's powers and ability to affect things extended only so far as those within his immediate range. Boomer and Sheba took their positions inside the doorw
ays of the nearest edifices and began returning fire at the Cylons, who simply marched straight into the laser fire. It didn't matter; their numbers were so plentiful that the Centurions would sacrifice themselves without hesitation, knowing even more would take their place. They were not the greatest battlefield tacticians in the galaxy, but then, they didn't need to be. Numbers and fanaticism were on their side.
"Take cover! Take cover!" Boomer shouted to the civilians, but there was really no place to hide. They had been herded into a narrow, warren-like maze, with few offerings of shelter. The Warriors did their best to form a shield between the Cylons and the civilians, but the invading numbers were too plentiful, their firepower too great.
"We're really going to surrender… to that?" Sheba wondered aloud.
The Centurions raised their pulse rifles and began firing. The laser pulses struck the sides of the building, sending gouts of stone and dust soaring in every direction, ripping through the bodies of civilians like bullets. The narrow corridors filled with dust, but the gleaming Centurion armor could still be seen as they approached, their red eye slits blazing, searching.
They advanced, they fired, they were shot at, they fell. Another line of Centurions, just behind the previous, would march blindly over the still corpses of their own fallen, their pulse rifles firing as they advanced. Civilians, huddled against the walls of the buildings, were cut down instantly, if they were lucky. Others were crushed by the flying debris of laser-blasted streets or walls. But Starbuck noticed something very disturbing about the Cylons: each succeeding wave of Centurions was somehow more agile, faster, more cunning… more… human in their behavior. The advanced Cylons, the more evolved Centurions, were using the old race as laser fodder. "Oh ...Frack," he muttered under his breath. Just when he thought things couldn't get worse.
There was nowhere to run; the back street they occupied led only to one destination, to the building in which the kiosk to the secret underground city lay.
Apollo remembered the few, sparse notes of the song, and sang them to the sigils set into the stone wall. For a moment, a very long moment, nothing happened, and Apollo worried he had not remembered the key properly, and that he had led these people here to a gruesome, unavoidable end, but then, the runes began to glow, growing brighter, filling the small underground room with their light.
The wall shimmered, as it had the night before, and dissolved beneath the spreading radiance. The people nearest Apollo all heaved a sigh of relief, and the commander stood at the entrance, ushering everyone safely through, into the cavern of cystal.
Apollo had heard the familiar sounds of pitched battle from above, and slapped his comm-line. "Starbuck! Fall back! Lead everyone into the building! We're through!"
"I wish you wouldn't put it like that," Starbuck's voice answered. A moment later, a huge Crash! came across the comm-line. Something big had just collapsed.
"Starbuck?" Apollo shouted into his communicator, still ushering the Civilians past him and through the secret passageway.
"Yeah, we're all right," Starbuck replied. "Boomer and a couple of Warriors blasted one of the buildings… it collapsed and blocked the passage, us on this side, them on the other."
"That buys us time," Apollo said to no one in particular. He closed the connection, and concentrated on the matter at hand, of getting his people to safety. The civilians on the stone staircase made their way down, some of them too frightened to wait any longer, and leaped off the sides of the spiraling steps to the ground. Apollo realized it was just a miracle they hadn't panicked worse than this, but then, they had lived with fear for the past twenty yahren. What was one more afternoon?
Baltar hurried past Apollo, with Siress Kiera's hand in his. Baltar's look was ashen, his face puffy and covered with drying blood, but he met Apollo's eyes. Why not? He had done nothing wrong, and wanted to remind the commander of that. "For the record," Baltar paused just long enough to say, "I didn't know that Count Iblis—"
Apollo nodded, placing his palm against the broad of Baltar's back and giving him a nudge to get him going. "Gotcha," he said. "Completely innocent." The commander glanced up toward the head of the stairway far above, and saw Starbuck, Boomer, and Sheba hurrying in. He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until he felt himself release it in a slow, uncoiling exhalation.
"They're right behind us!" Starbuck shouted down to Apollo. "The flying droids—!"
"Keep moving!" Apollo commanded, drawing his laser and watching the shadow-clotted darkness that filled the levels above his head. The last of the civilians thundered down the staircase and through the passageway into the crystal city. Starbuck and his band were just a few feet away from the bottom of the steps when a laser pulse from above shattered the base of the stairway. The people dropped hard to the ground as the stone steps crumbled out from beneath their feet, but none were seriously hurt.
Flying droids swooped in through the above-ground opening and dived down the shaft in opposing arcs, weaving in and out around each other, their red apertures glowing brighter as they prepared to fire. Apollo sighted the nearest one and fired, letting his hand lead him. He fired automatically, and took down three more of the deadly batlike weapons.
Starbuck rolled out of the way of a laser pulse, and fired his own pistol straight up at the diving droid, tearing it to steel confetti. But now, the ground troops had arrived and were descending the spiral stairway, stopping long enough to fire their pulse rifles, then hurry down another few risers where they paused and fired again.
Sheba and Boomer returned fire, blasting their targeted Centurions off the steps, where they fell with a loud crash to the stone floor, and lay still. The first group of soldiers had descended the steps, and were beginning to advance across the small chamber toward Apollo and his group. The humans backed away from them, toward the opening, firing their lasers as they retreated. A stray shot struck the staircase and cracked the stone; the weight of the descending Centurions caused the ancient rock to give way, and a horde of the armored creatures dropped straight down, plunging in eerie silence to their deaths.
The humans turned and ran, taking advantage of the confusion as more of the weakened stairs collapsed beneath the concentrated weight; the stairs were ancient, and had not been designed to hold this much weight at one time. Apollo knew it was only the will of the Lords of Light that the risers had held the civilians as long as they had.
Starbuck looked around at the soaring crystal buildings, rising as high above them as they descended into the earth. "Oh, good thinking," he said dryly, "let's all go hide in a city of glass! They'll never find us here!"
"Well, sure, of course it sounds bad if you put it like that," Apollo said, answering with one of Starbuck's pet phrases. "You've been a real pain in the ass since you died and came back, you know that?"
Apollo's group joined with the civilians and Warriors who were already making their way into the heart of the crystal city, looking for a position from which to defend themselves. Several Warriors had taken up places on the walkways far overhead, using the advantage of high ground to blast the Cylons as they filed into the cavern. The Centurions were forced to enter two abreast through the narrow opening, and they were gunned down by the snipers as soon as they stepped through the breach.
But the flying droids came winging through the opening, heading for the walkways, weaving in and out around the laser fire directed at them. Their red slits glowed, and energy pulses stabbed out, shattering the walkway at either end. The crystal made a chilling, cracking sound, and the men dropped down and down, through the levels of the impossible city, the glass buildings reflecting and magnifying their horrible deaths, disappearing from view at last, their death cries echoing off the smooth, polished crystal walls of the buildings. The broken shards of catwalk tinkled and chattered as they fell, like delicate wind chimes.
The wall containing the entrance shuddered, began to crumble, then collapsed, as the Cylons blasted it with their pulse rifles. They shared a group
intelligence: what one had learned, they all had learned, and they knew now it was a waste of resources to enter the chamber two abreast, easy targets for the humans. Instead, with the wall out of their way, the Centurions could swarm in, too many for the humans to strike down before their superior numbers could overwhelm the cornered colonials. It was part of the developing cunning Starbuck had glimpsed. For now, it was still rudimentary, but the gods only knew how long it would be, given the Cylons' rapid ability to assimilate and adapt, before they were on level evolutionary ground with the humans. How long before the Cylons evolved past them?
Apollo led his group deeper into the city, down ever deeper, level after level. He was hoping to find a series of caverns in which they could hide long enough to formulate some kind of plan. The prisming crystal walls reflected the pulse flashes of the Cylon rifles and laser blasts of the mech droids. Rainbow-hued lights rippled along the beveled edges of the structures and walkways, seeming to inform every building in the city.
Starbuck fired his pistol at the right angle of the nearest building; the laser light entered, refracted into prisms, and spread out, striking down the advancing Cylons with multiple laser beams.
One of the Centurions leveled his pulse rifle at Sheba and squeezed the trigger before she could bring her sidearm around to bear. She turned her head away out of instinct, waiting for the blast that would slap her off the catwalk and right out of this life, but the blast never came. Instead, seemingly out of nowhere, a pulse identical to the rifle shot fired by the Centurion struck the mech soldier, felling him instantly.
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