Battlestar Galactica 1

by Glen A. Larson

  "Are you all right?" Apollo asked. "A Cylon stray shot?"

  "Yeah, but I got at least five of them first."

  Serina, Boxey at her side, waited by the landram.

  "They'll take you to the shuttles," Apollo said. "I'm sorry but—"

  "We'll be fine," Serina said. "Get going."

  Athena had noticed that the token force left on the bridge had grown to a full crew since the alert had gone out, but she had been too busy to wonder about it.

  "Form scan positive," she announced as the information came up on her screen. "Multiple three-passenger vehicles."

  "Centurion attack craft then," Adama said. Athena nodded.

  "So they spring their trap. Recall all our personnel from Carillon."

  "Evacuation activity has already begun," said a communications officer. "I just received a report. They had some kind of set-to down there, and Plan R is in effect." He listened for a moment longer. "Tigh reports that Red squadron has reached the shuttle and taken off."

  "Good."

  Athena, puzzled, looked toward her father.

  "You knew the Cylon attack craft would be here?" she asked.

  "Yes. Call General Quarters."

  The claxon sounded immediately, as if an officer's finger had been placed on the alarm button awaiting the order. The screen showing the pilot's ready room switched on, showing countless warriors scrambling away from card games, reading, and sleeping.

  "Father," Athena cried, amazed. "Where are all the warriors coming from? A full squadron is answering the call. There aren't that many pilots left on board."

  "There are. I couldn't let you in on it, couldn't tell anyone who was not integral to the plan. Sorry, Athena."

  On the launch board, squares of light flashed on, indicating each ship warming up in launch cribs. When all the lights had flashed on, Adama bellowed, "Launch when ready!"

  "I see," Athena said. "You kept some pilots back. An entire squadron?"

  "Yes."

  "Exactly what I would have done!"

  Adama smiled affectionately.

  "I'm sure," he said.

  They watched the launch through the starfield. The vipers, flying in pre-battle formation, were an awesome sight, and Adama felt confidence rise up in him. Each of the vipers peeled off and, as ordered, flew through the flight corridor the three heroes had formed with their exploit, and went out single file to confront the approaching enemy. A bridge officer reported that the Cylon task force was overwhelming, three entire flights.

  "Our squadron won't stand a chance," Athena protested.

  "They won't be alone for long," Adama said. "The others are on their way and, using the contingency battle plan, they'll be joining the first squadron."

  "It may be too late. Where the hell are they?"

  "Shuttle approaching landing deck," a bridge officer said.

  "That soon enough for you, Athena?" Adama remarked.

  But Athena was too busy staring at the screens showing the launching bay, and the pilots getting into battle gear on the run, to listen closely to what her father had said.

  The rain was falling harder in the fields where the shuttles sat. Boomer and Starbuck hustled the panicky people off the land rams and up the gangways to each ready ship. A cold breeze drove the rain uncomfortably into their faces.

  "I hate milk runs," Starbuck shouted.

  "Look," Boomer cautioned, "each job's important, okay?"

  "Ah, that sounds like one of the commander's lectures."

  Cassiopeia, who had been helping people off the last landram, reported that everybody was off the vehicles. Her eyes showed she was alert now. Starbuck hollered at the last stragglers to get a move on.

  "Boomer," he said, "soon as we dock these shuttles, we head for the launch cribs. I want a piece of the action."

  The rain lessened abruptly and Starbuck's attention was caught by a ship sitting on the slope of a nearby hill.

  "What's that?" he said, pointing toward the ship.

  Boomer looked.

  "That's one of the Ovion Tylium freighters. It was supposed to be sent to—"

  "Is it carrying a full load?"

  "Well, yeah, must be. Why?"

  "I'm taking it up."

  "But that stuff's lethal. One attack and they could blow you out of the sky."

  "Great. That's the way I always wanted to go. You take care of the shuttles, I'll—"

  "I want to go with you."

  "You've got your job, Boomer. Do it."

  "But what do you know about flying an Ovion ship?"

  "I can fly anything, Boom-Boom."

  "You can fly your head into the clouds, that's what you can do."

  "Goodbye, Boomer."

  Starbuck started toward the tanker. Suddenly he was aware of Cassiopeia running beside him.

  "What in hell are you doing?" he roared.

  "I'm going with you."

  "But—"

  "You can use me. I'll explain later."

  Everybody on the bridge tensed as Athena announced, "First defense wing about to make contact with the attack force."

  As the defense wing was revealed on the main console screen, Adama was struck by how pitifully small they looked against the wall of the Cylon armada.

  "By all that's holy . . ." one of the wing's pilots yelled over his com.

  One of the lead Cylon ships went into a roll and fired as it flew by a viper. The viper took the hit full on, and exploded. Almost concurrently two more viper ships were wiped out by Cylons. Greenbean's voice resounded through the bridge.

  "There're too many of them. Roll out, hit 'em from the sides!"

  The Colonial vipers peeled off, but they looked too thinly spread to do much damage.

  "Where's the damn Red squadron?" Greenbean hollered.

  Turning back to the screen, he saw two more vipers exploding.

  "So much for trying to hit 'em from the sides," he shouted angrily.

  "Where are they?" Adama said.

  Then his son's voice came through the comline.

  "Revved and ready for takeoff."

  The launch lights came on.

  "Your wing ready, Jolly?" Apollo said.

  "Ready, sir."

  "Let's go."

  Apollo's Red squadron streaked across the sky and into the minefield corridor.

  "The shuttles are arriving, sir," a bridge officer said. "Reports show other ships rising up from the surface of Carillon."

  "More Cylons?" Athena said.

  "Running visual idents now."

  On the comline Greenbean shouted, "Yaahoooo," as he observed the arrival of Apollo's squadron.

  In the freighter's pilot compartment, Cassiopeia made Starbuck's jaw drop open. The tall young socialator obviously knew the ropes when it came to the bizarre technology of an Ovion tanker. Devices that seemed meaningless to Starbuck were duck soup for her. She started throwing levers and pressing buttons before she even settled herself in the copilot's seat.

  "You been on one of these before, Cassie?" Starbuck asked.

  "My dad, for the brief times I was allowed to see him, piloted a freighter. And you call me Cassie again and I'll see to it personally this ship blows up."

  The ship began to rumble all around them.

  "You want to take us up?" Starbuck said. "You seem to—"

  "I'd do it, but I'm afraid I'll have to admit reluctantly that your instincts would serve us better just now."

  Starbuck strapped himself into the pilot's seat and tried to get the feel of the strange ship from its rattling vibrations.

  "Okay to lift off?" he asked Cassiopeia.

  She smiled and raised an eyebrow. Studying the equipment, she replied.

  "Okay. Lift off."

  Cassiopeia had done her part of the job so well that they took flight just behind the shuttles. But the tanker was slower and too weighted down. It could not keep up. Starbuck watched the shuttles disappear through the clouds, leaving a brief red glow on their ominous black surfa
ces. It was a product of his imagination, he knew, but he thought he could sense the volatile liquid Tylium sloshing against the sides of its heavy containers. One good jarring shock and it was goodbye, bucko. Starbuck would be happy to deposit this payload upon the deck of the Galactica where experts could tenderly transport it to safe cargoholds.

  "Scanner shows Cylon craft approaching us just below the level of the cloud cover," Starbuck said.

  "Are the shuttles in trouble?" Cassiopeia asked.

  "Nope. They seemed to have gotten off in time, or else the Cylons don't give a hoot about a pair of surface-to-air shuttlecrafts."

  "They seem to give a hoot about us."

  "I'll have to try evasion tactics. Hold on!"

  Starbuck leveled off the tanker and headed it north, over the Ovion casino and Tylium mine and underneath the Cylon ships revealed by the scanner. The Cylons did not alter their direction, but instead started up through the clouds. Starbuck looked below. Some Ovions had emerged from the ground and were running around frantically. Starbuck wondered what their running amok was all about, when he heard a deep rumble from the ground area. It came through loud and clear over the rattle of the tanker.

  "What's that?" Cassiopeia said.

  "An explosion! In the mine. Something's setting Tylium off. We have to get the blazes out of here!"

  "Oh, my God!" Cassiopeia shrieked.

  Starbuck knew exactly what was going through her mind. If the tremors from the underground explosion rocked the tanker, the Tylium in its holds would—he didn't want to think about it. The planet itself could go up. He headed the tanker toward the clouds again. If he got away from Carillon, if he got away from the perimeters of the mine explosions, if he successfully avoided pursuers, if he didn't encounter the attacking Cylon Star Force, if he could get through any fighters attacking Galactica, if he could execute the extremely difficult landing of a tanker full of volatile fuel upon the deck of a besieged battlestar—if he could do all that, everything else was easy. All he had to do then was climb in his viper and go off and join his buddies in the suicidal battle against the Cylons. Not to worry, he told himself, everything was just hunky-dory.

  A second, more powerful explosion rocked the tanker.

  "Oh, no!" Cassiopeia yelled, looking out the side window. Starbuck could see fire reflections on the glass and he knew immediately that something down on the Carillon surface, perhaps the mine itself, was on fire, and perhaps setting off chain reactions all along the surface of the planet. He aimed the tanker for a particularly dark cloud. As he went into it, he passed a Cylon warship coming out. He could sense it swinging around to follow, even though he now could see nothing but cloud outside any portal.

  Apollo sliced a Cylon ship into ragged, burning fragments. Glancing to his left, he saw Jolly's plane in trouble.

  "Look out on your wing, Jolly," he cried.

  "Which one," Jolly responded. "They're coming in from all over the place. They're—"

  Jolly was interrupted by a hit on his tail. His fighter started rocking from side to side.

  "There's too many of 'em, Skipper," Greenbean shouted.

  "What do you mean, too many?" Jolly said. "I'm here, aren't I? Watch out at three o'clock, Skipper."

  Apollo evaded the Cylon with a sweep left, a quarter turn and a spin to the right. Coming out of the spin, he opened fire, cleaving his attacker across the middle. Both pieces started to go out of control and fall toward Carillon. Another Cylon fighter started tracking his wake and firing, and he put his viper into a reverse loop, coming down on the Cylon from above and running a line of fire along the top of the entire aircraft. A sudden explosion and the Cylon ship had been instantly transfigured to debris.

  In the distance he could see one of the fighters of the Blue squadron shattering under the fire of eight Cylon attackers.

  "Don't think we can hold out much longer, Captain," Jolly shouted. "Monk just bought it."

  "Do your best."

  "I'm doing miracles, sir, but it's not—"

  Jolly's sentence got cut off by a trio of swooping Cylons. Apollo couldn't wait around to see the outcome of the attack, because he was abruptly faced by a dozen of the enemy trying to make him the spoke of their pinwheel attack.

  A bridge officer reported to Adama that four of the Cylon ships that had sneaked onto the surface of Carillon were now emerging from the cloud cover, apparently to join the alien armada and attack the Galactica's squadron from behind. However, they did not count on the artillery on the Galactica and the luxury liner Rising Star. Catching the Cylon craft as they attempted a flyby, both large ships opened fire with long-range beams. The four ships exploded almost simultaneously. The crews on the Galactica bridge cheered.

  "Another unidentified vessel approaching," Tigh said. "Looks like, yes, it's one of those Ovion freighters. Could they be launching an attack? Might be trouble. Should I order it fired on?"

  "NO!" screamed Athena from the communications console. "It's Starbuck. He just radioed. He's bringing a Tylium load."

  "A Tylium load. Here? In the middle of combat?" Tigh said, incredulous.

  Adama laughed, a bizarre sound to the crew around him, who had not heard him laugh so heartily for some time.

  "That's Starbuck. Prepare the landing deck. Well, prepare it!"

  The bridge crew sprang into action.

  "Oh, no!" Athena screamed, as she stared at the scanner screen.

  Just beyond the tanker a Cylon fighter had broken from the Carillon cloud cover, heading directly for Starbuck's ship.

  "No, he can't be killed!" Athena yelled.

  From another corner of the screen a viper, just launched from the Galactica, appeared.

  "That's Boomer's ship," Tigh cried.

  Boomer's viper raced on a course to intercept the Cylon that was zeroing in on Starbuck. On the Galactica's bridge, everybody held their breaths simultaneously. Just as it seemed the Cylon fighter would open fire on the tanker. Boomer guided his ship to a position in between the Cylon and the tanker, and opened fire. In a second the Cylon ship was a collection of specks that looked like momentary jamming interference on the viewing screen. Another cheer went up from the bridge crew.

  "Look at that, will you, Tigh?" Adama said, pointing to the screen. Then he gestured toward other screens showing Cylon aircraft being hit by the smaller but more maneuverable Colonial Fleet vipers. "We're doing it. This ship, it's, I don't know, it's—"

  "Coming back to life," Athena said, coming up beside her father.

  "That's exactly it, it's as if the Galactica's been sick, tainted by running away from the battle. Now we're proving ourselves again, we're—"

  "Wait!" Tigh said. "Listen!"

  He turned up a volume switch. Boomer's voice literally boomed throughout the bridge.

  "Hey you guys, move over. Let me have some of this."

  "Boomer!" Apollo said. "Where you been?"

  "You know darn well where I've been. On your lousy milk run."

  On the screen Boomer's viper started blasting at a trio of Cylon ships, all of which seemed to explode at the same time.

  "Boom . . . boom . . . boom," Boomer said.

  "Hey Boomer," Apollo said. "Welcome home."

  Apollo's ship streaked into the picture. His and Boomer's craft seemed to touch wings as they headed toward a line of Cylon fighters.

  "Hey guys," Jolly shouted, "we've got a fighting chance."

  "You know it!" Boomer shouted. "In a minute we're gonna be filling this sky with fire!"

  Adama turned toward Tigh.

  "Jolly's right," he said. "We've got more than a chance. Are all our people back on board?"

  "When Starbuck gets here with the fuel freighter, that oughta be everybody. Nobody else reporting in from Carillon. Things are bad down there anyway. Explosions." Tigh paused. "God, we lost a lot of people down there."

  Adama nodded.

  "Yep," he said, "and all that I can think of to say is, we've seen worse. Not very comforting. But we
're turning it around now. I can feel it. We'll get those slimy—the Galactica's alive again, do you understand, Tigh, do you?"

  Tight looked at his commander as if he thought him on the verge of madness, but he nodded agreement anyway.

  On the screens Cylon ships were blowing up all over the sky, as the human pests inside their vipers slipped in and out of the enemy's traps.

  Concentrating their attention on a separate screen, Adama and Athena watched Starbuck's approach to the landing deck.

  "Easy, boy," Adama muttered.

  "Don't blow it now, bucko, please, please don't blow it now," Athena whispered.

  The tanker seemed too large, too bulky for a smooth landing, especially under the present battle conditions.

  "He's got to make it, Dad!" Athena cried.

  "You're right there. If he doesn't, there'll be a hole in the side of this battlestar big enough to send it out of commission for a good long time, maybe forever. Watch it, Starbuck. That's right. Good. Easy, now."

  One miscue, one bad bounce on the Galactica's deck, and the tanker was sure to explode. And Starbuck was already notorious for flashy landings. Just before the ship made contact with the deck, both Adama and Athena inhaled sharply and audibly.

  "C'mon, bucko," Tigh whispered.

  Starbuck eased the tanker onto the deck so smoothly, so delicately, the fuel ship appeared weightless. When it gently glided to a stop, another unanimous cheer went up from the bridge crew. Adama could not help smiling.

  "Precision flying?" Athena said to him.

  "Exactly!" Adama shouted.

  Starbuck ran down the gangway as the crew began unloading the tanker, rapidly but delicately. Athena's jubilant mood was momentarily diminished when she saw the tall socialator, looking quite self-satisfied, follow Starbuck down the gangway. But her anger was brief. At least Starbuck was alive. That was what counted.

  Starbuck joined the battle by paying back Boomer his favor. One after the other he wiped out four Cylon ships that had Boomer caught in a pinwheel attack.

  "Anybody want to fly over and touch me for luck?" Starbuck yelled.

  "Starbuck . . ." Apollo said.

  "Yo!"

  "On your tail."

  He looked over his shoulder. A Cylon fighter coming in from each side.