"What's going on?" Shaiheya said. She was out of breath from running and could barely get the words out.
"The Great Franda is coming back to us," Dwybolt said. "I'll start writing a new play for him as soon as this battle is over."
Cassiopeia nervously jabbed at buttons to summon an elevator. She spoke to the old man without looking at him. "You're the Great Franda?"
The old man saw he couldn't hide his identity any longer. "Yes."
"I saw you perform when I was a child."
"Hasn't everybody over twenty-two?"
The ship was hit again. Cassiopeia fell backward, into Dwybolt's arms. He looked down at her strangely, almost affectionately, and she sprang out of his arms quickly. She began punching the buttons furiously. "All the elevators seem tied up. I have to get to Life Station. I'll find another way."
She ran off.
"A pretty woman," Franda commented.
"Too pretty by half," Shalheya said.
"Do I detect a nuance of jealousy?"
"You do."
"Pay no attention to her," Dwybolt said. "She's nothing to fret about. Cassiopeia was . . . an early infatuation."
Shalheya regarded Dwybolt suspiciously. Did he really mean that? Was the infatuation over? He gave her no clue to his thoughts as he turned to Franda. "We should return to the auditorium. It'll be safer there, while all this mischief is going on. Maybe we can whip up something to entertain the weary troops when this fracas is over."
"There was something we did back on Piscea . . . ," the old man began as they walked away from the elevators. Shalheya, left standing alone, muttered to herself that she'd been expecting too much from Dwybolt. He would treat her no differently, Cassiopeia or no Cassiopeia. Right now he was too excited about the return of the Great Franda. That was Dwybolt, all right. Theater was always more important than life to him. "Actors," she said aloud, sighing.
When she caught up with both men, Dwybolt was saying, "Sir, I might have a part for you right away. A few speeches, not so many lines. Do you think . . ."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Apollo found a frustrated Starbuck pacing the launch bay frantically. CWO Jenny of the flight crew, looking helpless, scowled at Starbuck.
"What's wrong?" Apollo asked.
"We can't launch," Starbuck answered grimly.
Jenny walked to Apollo. "We had to send out cadets first. They didn't have a chance. Cylons kept picking them off before they could fight back. Those that got through, some of 'em were wiped out immediately. The rest . . . well, we're not sure about the rest. Some of 'em made it back here. They say there's no chance out there."
Before Apollo could say anything, the Galactica was hit with a massive barrage. Apollo stumbled and nearly fell. Starbuck grabbed a Viper wingtip to steady himself. Jenny, used to vibrations in the launch deck, kept her balance.
"There's got to be a chance," Apollo cried over the din.
"We've got to launch!" Starbuck yelled.
Jenny shook her head. "Bridge says no. Hold all launches, that's the order."
"Hell with that," Starbuck said "I'm going to—"
He started running toward his Viper. Apollo caught up with him and wrestled him to a halt. "No, Starbuck! This is no time for senseless heroics. We've got to think of something."
"Think of something? Are you batty? Sure, let's just sit down, have a conference while the damned Cylons slice the Galactica up like a cake."
"Wait, there may be a way. Listen."
Adama turned slowly away from his communications console, still stunned by Spectre's demand to surrender. He had once vowed never to surrender the Galactica to any enemy. But now there seemed no chance of winning. What about his responsibility to all the innocent people on board the ship at this moment? Was it right to sacrifice them for the sake of an old military oath?
He was distracted from these gloomy thoughts by the sight of Colonel Tigh stumbling onto the bridge, holding his head, some blood caked on his fingers. Adama hurried to him. "What happened to you?"
Tigh described his encounter with Baltar. Adama's eyes flamed with fury. "Baltar! How can he go on committing—"
The Galactica once again shuddered from the force of massive hits upon its superstructure. As Tigh resumed his bridge duties, Adama told him about Spectre's surrender demand.
"We can't surrender the fleet," Tigh said. "The Cylons'd slaughter everyone."
"Tigh, we have no effective means of retaliation. There may be no other choice."
"There's always another choice when it comes to survival," Apollo said. "I heard you say that many times, Commander."
Adama turned to see his son and Starbuck coming excitedly toward him. He smiled at them ironically. "I take it you two have a plan, Captain Apollo?"
"Yes," Apollo said eagerly. "The SuperViper."
"SuperViper?" Tigh asked.
"But you were almost killed, the both of you, in its test flight," Adama said. "It's suicide."
"It's a chance," Apollo said. "Commander, it's got the maneuverability to slip out of the Galactica and the power to hold off Cylon forces until we can launch our regulars. It's worth the risk. We're going to die anyway—if we do nothing."
Adama was impressed anew with the bravery of these two heroes. There might be some worth to the plan.
The ship was hit again. The lights on the bridge flashed off, then on again as a backup generator kicked in.
"We have to take the chance, Commander," Apollo said. "We can't toss the fleet to the Cylons without a fight, no matter how desperate."
Adama nodded. "All right. Tigh, order the SuperViper raised to launch bay."
"Aye-aye sir."
Tigh went into action with his usual efficiency. Telling Starbuck they needed time to prepare for flight in the erratic SuperViper, he started guiding the young lieutenant off the bridge.
Apollo was suddenly distracted by a small gasping sound which he recognized immediately. He wasn't surprised to see Boxey standing in the shadows near the bridge hatchway. The boy must have heard everything.
"Go ahead, Starbuck," Apollo said. "I'll be with you in a moment."
Kneeling down beside Boxey, he saw lines of tears running out both sides of the boy's eyes. His heart was broken to see Boxey looking so sad and he found it difficult to speak. "I'm sorry, Boxey, I have to go."
The boy wiped away some tears with the back of his hand. "I . . . I understand. The people. Everyone'll die. You got to. I know."
Apollo was amazed at the boy's response. "Do you? Really know, I mean?"
"Really. Dad, I'll be a pilot someday. I'll have to . . ." Boxey had difficulty finding the right words, too. ". . . I'll have to do my duty, too."
Moved by the boy's words and sensing his own father's eyes upon him, Apollo could think of nothing more to say. He embraced Boxey, then went through the exit hatchway. Boxey tried, but he couldn't stop his tears. Adama came to him. "Boxey . . ."
Boxey shook his head no and trudged slowly off the bridge. When he was certain nobody there could see him any longer, he began to run. He wasn't sure why he ran or where he was going. Rounding a corner, he bumped into Peri. Both of them nearly fell. Peri prevented him from continuing on by grabbing his shoulders.
"Hey," she said, "just who I was looking for! After the big bang, I wondered if you were all right. You all right, Boxey?"
For a moment Boxey couldn't speak, then words came out of him in a rush. He told Peri all about his worries, his nightmares, his fears of his father being killed on a mission, how Apollo was now going on the most dangerous mission yet.
"I'm scared, Peri. This time maybe he'll get killed. There're too many Cylons out there, too—"
"Heck, you been in that theater company all this time and missed the point, haven't ya, kid? That Dwybolt's kind of a drip but he's got somethin' to say in those plays o' his, and it's not just daggit fur neither. Look, you gotta hope. Things can go wrong, but you can hope. You think I like wanderin' around all the dark places
, hiding out, that stuff? Nope, not at all. I hate it. But I hope for better. Come on, I'll stick with you and we'll wait this out. Heck, the way you tell it, if your dad don't make it, none o' us are gonna either, so why sweat it?"
For a long while, the two children huddled and listened silently to the explosive sounds outside the ship.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Sometimes, right before a launch, Apollo suffered a moment of disorientation when all the lights flashing around him, all the flight crew activity, all the sounds inside his ship, suddenly became meaningless. Could he really fly this machine? Did all of these things on his instrument panel mean something he could really understand? Then, just as suddenly, everything came together, and he was ready. However, in this SuperViper, it seemed as if the disorientation would be permanent. He could not be certain this ship would perform efficiently, especially among the massive gathering of enemy spacecraft.
Rigel was in the last stages of the countdown. "Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . ."
Starbuck glanced over at Apollo and smiled. "Don't intend to be morbid, but just wanted to say it's been a hoot flying with you, Apollo."
"Five . . . four . . ."
"You always know how to phrase things, old buddy," Apollo said.
"Two . . . one . . . LAUNCH!"
The SuperViper's lunge down the launch tube was terrifying. The ship seemed to just fit the tube. One inch either way and they'd be spreading sparks.
The pilots tensed as the opening at the end of the launch tube came rushing up at them. Outside they saw streaks of laser fire crisscrossing ominously. Tensing their grips on their controls, they cleared the opening and zoomed out into a raging battle.
On the bridge Tigh and Athena joined Commander Adama in staring at the large screen of the main monitor. The SuperViper coming out of launch tube looked like a long blur. The three observers held their breaths. This was the moment when many of the cadet Viper pilots had been so easily destroyed by Cylon Raiders. Four Cylon ships were already swooping in toward the SuperViper. However, Apollo and Starbuck, acting in concert, maneuvered their ship into an abrupt swerve upward, seeming to slide along the side of the Galactica. Several enemy shots just missed them.
Athena was the first of the three watchers to exhale. "Whew! That was close."
"I thought they had them," Tigh admitted.
"How's the ship performing?" Adama asked.
Tigh made a quick check of the console which displayed SuperViper telemetry. "All systems stable, sir."
Adama nodded. "Well, they're out. What now?"
"Look," Athena said, her voice worried. "The Cylons are going to zero in on them!"
Their attention returned to the monitor as the SuperViper came under wildly ineffective fire. It out-maneuvered its attackers easily and soared away from the Galactica.
"What are they doing?" Athena said.
"Apollo's strategy," Tigh said. "Divide their forces and get their attention away from the Galactica."
"No wonder I'm proud of my brother."
"Are Red and Blue Squadrons assembled?" Adama asked.
"Nearly," Tigh responded. "Should be ready to launch soon."
"Keep to the timetable. Carry on."
"Aye-aye sir."
Although their handling of the SuperViper appeared perfect to Galactica's observers, Apollo and Starbuck were having a difficult time keeping the skittish vehicle under control. It didn't respond smoothly to their efforts. Grunting with his labor, Starbuck muttered, "This baby's still got a mind of its own."
"We've got to relax. We relax, and it does."
"I'll take a nap then."
"Easy does it. Let the ship show us just what it can do."
Shots from a contingent of Cylon Raiders that were attempting to surround the SuperViper came dangerously close. Starbuck swiveled around in his chair and shouted, "Apollo, don't you think it's about time we turned some of these bozos into fireballs?"
"I'm with you on that. Let's bring on the artillery."
Their fingers flicked over the control panel and hatches on all sides of the ship popped open. The SuperViper's intricate and powerful weaponry slid out.
"Something's wrong with the starboard gun battery," Starbuck, yelled. "Its hatch is open but the gun seems to be stuck."
Both pilots started flipping the toggles which should have activated the starboard gun. For a long moment nothing happened, then, with an audible wheeze, the starboard gun popped out.
Apollo marveled at how the SuperViper technology allowed the ship's pilots to operate so much weaponry simultaneously. He could fire at Cylons in front, to the side, and at the rear of the ship, all at the same time.
All guns blasting, the pilots headed the SuperViper toward the nearest clump of Cylon ships. As he watched several of the enemy craft explode, Apollo found it tough to believe he and Starbuck had wrought so much damage in such a short time. There was little time to gape at their success, however, as Cylon reinforcements came hurtling toward them. Maneuvering the SuperViper up and down, setting it into impossible swerves sideways, making it bob like a fishing lure on water and zigzag in sharp curves, the two pilots completely fooled their attackers. Soon the surrounding Cylon ships exploded into a series of linked balls of fire.
The watchers on the Galactica bridge stayed silent as they viewed the incredible devastation the miracle ship was causing. As Cylon ships left the main battle to go after the pesky intruder, the force of the attack on the Galactica diminished.
"Tigh," he called out, "is Red Squadron ready to launch?"
"Yes, sir."
"Launch!"
Adama hadn't even taken another breath before Vipers started plunging down launch tubes. This time seasoned pilots were in the Viper cockpits, all of them vowing they wouldn't be picked off easily. They were a beautiful sight as they emerged from the Galactica and began to find Cylon targets. However, only three or four Vipers cleared launch tube before a Red Squadron ship was blown up near the Galactica.
"Oh, no!" Athena cried.
"Tigh," Adama said, "the Galactica's got to have proper maneuverability to launch Vipers. What's the report from repair crews?"
Tigh wished he didn't have to speak. "There hasn't been a report for a long while."
"No report?!"
Other Vipers cleared the ship, and several were hit. Those ships that managed to clear the ship fought valiantly, but it was clear they were outnumbered. More Vipers had to be launched, and quickly.
Croft was working as rapidly and carefully as he could. Small fires still blazed near him and the smoke-filled atmosphere made it hard to breathe, hard to concentrate. He'd forced the repair crew to evacuate the area, saying there might be a second major explosion, and he couldn't afford to endanger their lives. Only Sheba remained behind. He'd ordered her away also, but she'd stubbornly refused to go. She worked with him in separating pieces of wreckage and handed him tools as he needed them.
She'd watched Croft deftly jerrybuild an intricate and fantastic set of connections and bypasses. He spoke little as he worked, except for the occasional, and obligatory, Croftian oaths. In the engine room's strange light, his face, usually described as weatherbeaten, looked eerie. There were cliffs and crags in it that Sheba had never seen before.
He'd been working on his knees. Now he stood up, slowly and carefully, the end of a wire in each hand.
"This might do it," he muttered.
Sheba was astonished. "Those two little wires? For the entire ship?"
"Well, it's not going to power the galley or start up the games in the rec room, but it might get the ship moving for a short while. Or—"
Sheba hated the way the men of the Galactica liked to break off words and sentences so ominously. "Or what, Croft?"
"Or I might be wrong and this whole area'll explode. That's why I'm standing here staring at the tips of two wires, my hands stiffening up. I don't know if we should try it, but I got no other ideas just now."
As if to prod him to
a decision, the ship again rocked and trembled from direct hits on its tough surface. Croft knew that each bull's eye weakened the Galactica. There wasn't much time left. He swallowed hard and began to bring the two wires together. Speaking out of the side of his mouth, he said, "Last chance, Sheba. You gonna get to a safe place or not?"
"No deal. You might need help."
"Before I do this, I gotta say to you, darling, that I'm sorry we never—"
"Please, no sentimental crap. Do it!"
"You're too tough. Okay, okay, here goes."
As he joined and wrapped the two wires together, he kicked in a lever with his foot. A strange gurgling sound surrounded them. Croft looked worried for a moment. Suddenly a deep rumble shook the ship and, with a loud roar and a rasping shudder, the Galactica's engines kicked into action. In the distance some enthusiastic cheers could be heard.
Sheba smiled at Croft. He didn't smile back. Sheba noticed he was still holding tightly on to the wires. His knees buckled. The rest of his body appeared rigid. His face looked pained and frightened. She grabbed his hand and was knocked backward by a jolting shock. Croft's face whitened. Concentrating, she gripped his hands again and, feeling the surges of power trying to strangle her heart, she pried his fingers off the wires. When they dropped away, Croft and Sheba fell against each other, then onto the floor. Neither could speak for a long, long time. Finally Croft said weakly, "Hey, I think you saved my life, there."
Her reply was stronger. "Think nothing of it. After a few centons you probably won't anyway."
Croft's body relaxed and Sheba hugged him. He wondered why she always gave him affection when there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Adama started giving orders at the first surge of power from the Galactica's engines. "Tigh! Order full artillery counterassault and launch the rest of the Vipers at once. I'll take the helm."
Vipers, aided by Adama's maneuvering skills, shot out of launch tubes all over the ship, slipping and sliding into the battle with their lasercannons booming. With the Galactica operating, even at the limited power Croft's jerrybuilding had provided, the tide of battle began to shift rapidly.
Battlestar Galactica 14 - Surrender The Galactica! Page 19