Battlestar Galactica 13 - Apollo's War

by Glen A. Larson

  "Good to see you awake," he said. "Now I know you'll be all right."

  "Just because I'm awake?" she asked, her voice weak.

  "Well, I was beginning to worry you might slip into a coma. Your wound is healing fine. Just fine."

  She glanced down and saw that the wound had been efficiently taken care of and lightly bandaged. She took a deep breath. The discomfort around the wound increased but was bearable.

  "I do remember being shot, and you tending to me, and then a bright light, and then everything all confused, and then little else. Except I came awake a few times in this room. Where am I?"

  "You're still in the command bastion of the Sweepers. We're the only ones here now. It's sort of been our base."

  "Base?"

  "Well, that's a long story. I'll get to it."

  "You'll tell me now. I'm all right."

  Apollo settled down on the edge of the bed. He told her how they'd found this medical facility in a lower floor of the bastion. They'd brought her here and been taking care of her ever since.

  "That's kind of you, all of you."

  "Nothing to it. There's someone here I'd like you to meet."

  He gestured to someone on the other side of Xiomara's bed. A young blond man came into view, smiling self-consciously.

  "Xiomara, this is Starbuck. The real Starbuck."

  "Seem to be a lot of fake Starbucks around," Starbuck said amiably.

  "Apollo told us stories about you."

  "Yeah, he told me. But whatever he said, don't you believe a word. He told me he made up the stories."

  "Oh, I know that. We all knew that. He was trying to keep up our spirits. We knew you couldn't have done all he said you did."

  "I'm crushed. Maybe there was some truth in them. Anyway, I just wanted to say hello. The Commander's got me overhauling the Vipers. I'll see you soon, Xiomara. Up and around."

  With a small good-bye wave, Starbuck left the room.

  "Your friend seems very nice," Xiomara said, looking after him.

  "He is."

  "What's all that about working on the Vipers?"

  "Well, they got pretty damaged."

  "Oh, in the attack on this bastion."

  "Not just that, actually. You've been out for a while. See, after the battle here was over, we realized that we'd left the war wide open for the other side to win. Without anyone guiding the movements of the Sweepers from this bastion, the Pelters—whoever they are—would just overwhelm the others, and perhaps thousands would be killed in the process. So, Croft, Sheba, Starbuck, my father and I each took a Viper and attacked the command bastion of the Pelters, which is on the other side of Yevra. Funny, it's almost as if the two sides set up their command posts as two ends of a game board."

  "What's funny? As far as I've seen, this war is a game for both sides."

  "A game?"

  "Did they want this land? Was there any wealth on Yevra for them to win? Would they gain any power by ravaging Yevra with their awful battles? I don't know what the original reasons for this war were—"

  "Nobody does apparently."

  "—but it looks like the war became a thing to be conducted for itself, and for none of the other reasons that war usually comes from."

  "I think you're right. You should have been a general, Xiomara."

  Her response was unusually firm, even when spoken in her weakened voice: "No. I don't want to have anything to do with war again."

  "Well, Yevra won't have to suffer anymore because of this war. Once we'd destroyed both bastions, we flew over a battle and were actually able to watch it slow to a standstill. Soon soldiers were wandering around aimlessly, not sure of what they were supposed to be. Both sides got mixed up together and looked like one army that couldn't find another army to fight. Last I checked, most of the soldiers had wandered off. To more peaceful pursuits, I hope. Or to find a way back to their original homes. Beskaroon has already located some of his former crew."

  "Beskaroon. He was in here."

  "Well, he and Sarge couldn't go up in the Vipers and, while we were attending to the Pelter command post, they did a lot of the tending to you. Actually, Beskaroon did most of it, Sarge says. Sarge had to check out every nook and cranny of this building to make sure we were in no more danger. So Beskaroon was your primary nurse."

  "Not willingly, I'm sure."

  "Willingly," Beskaroon said. He had been hiding in the shadows of a corner of the room. "Thought you were a brave woman, I did. Sorry I was a lout. Always a lout, that's me. Forgiveness may be given, please."

  "I forgive you."

  Beskaroon seemed quite happy as he exited the room. Apollo suggested to Xiomara that she get some more rest, and he started to follow Beskaroon out the door.

  "Apollo?" Xiomara said.

  "Yes?"

  "What are your plans?"

  "Plans?"

  "I suspect you don't plan to take up residence on Yevra."

  Apollo turned, clearly hesitant to discuss this particular subject. He sat again on the side of her bed.

  "I'll return to the Galactica. Soon. I've thought about you a lot, Xiomara. You could return with us. We could consult Doctor Salik, our medical officer, see if something can be done about . . . about your looks."

  "Don't be afraid to say face. I think, Apollo, the spell is too strong. I was told there was nothing physical that can be done, and I believe that. I don't think your doctor can counteract that kind of power."

  "Xiomara—"

  "I can't even give it a try. I must find someone here, on Yevra, who can do something. There is no cure for me on the Galactica."

  "I have to return there, Xiomara."

  "I know that."

  "And you won't come."

  "No. There are things to do here. Villages to restore, life to bring back to normal. I'll stay for that. I can be helpful. The training we received from Sarge has benefits for peacetime. But I'll think of you often, hero. And don't worry, I wouldn't have gone to your ship with you even if I had my normal face."

  "Why?"

  "I don't love you, Apollo. I love Trelon. I will look for him. Perhaps he didn't die in the war."

  Apollo took her hand, held it tight.

  "I hope Trelon's alive."

  "Thank you. And thanks for . . . everything, hero."

  He released his grip on her hand and stood up.

  "I didn't do anything."

  "But yes, you did. You looked at me, really looked at me. I liked that. I will miss you."

  "I'll miss you, too."

  They stared at each for a long while, neither of them able to think of anything more to say. Apollo, saying he had duty to attend to, said good-bye and walked to the door.

  "By the way," Xiomara called after him, "you didn't love me either."

  "No, I guess I didn't. I'm not sure."

  "Thank you again then. For being uncertain."

  Apollo left without looking back at her. She lay back on her bed, wanting to go to sleep again. Her eyes shut, she touched her face with her fingertips, traced its contours, then she bit the back of her hand, to keep from crying.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Adama leaned against his Viper and enjoyed the slightly oily smells that rose up from its surface. He almost regretted the fact that they were returning to the Galactica. The responsible side of him longed to get back there, feel the power of the helm, and continue the quest. But the small hotshot-pilot side of him wouldn't have minded a few more air battles. He had enjoyed the pair of combat missions he'd been part of. Even more than being in the saddle again, he had liked flying side by side with his son. He had never expected that particular bonus. He could still feel the thrill that had gone through them after they had defeated the Pelter command bastion and had made the wide turn to go back. He had looked over at Apollo's Viper and caught Apollo smiling over at him. The warmth of that moment would do him good for many centons to come.

  Now he had only to wait for the good-byes to be said. He had alre
ady bade his farewell to the strange beings who had become his son's new friends. Apollo now spoke to Sarge. The odd-looking but compelling and brave woman called Xiomara stood nearby, waiting for Sarge and Apollo to finish. Apollo had told his father about Xiomara, how she had become such a grotesque creature, and what she had done in battle. Adama had detected beneath Apollo's words a more-than-ordinary interest in the woman, and a sadness that she had refused to accompany them to the Galactica.

  Starbuck, who had also said his good-byes, stood next to Adama.

  "Strange," the young lieutenant said, wistfully.

  "What's strange, Starbuck?"

  "What we've done here. We've liberated a planet we never heard of before. I mean, we came in here like trained mercenaries, knowing nothing about the conflict, and took care of it."

  "Not exactly mercenaries, Starbuck. After all, we took no one side."

  "Yes, we demolished both sides equally. Oh, I know it was for the good of the planet and all that, but it just feels strange. I never fought a battle before where I didn't know something about the issues involved."

  "Apollo says there were no real issues. It was a war fought for the sake of the war itself."

  "Yeah, but I can't quite grasp that. You did prove yourself a real hotshot, though, Commander."

  "Really, Starbuck, I don't think . . ."

  "Hey, if there were a Hotshot Hall of Fame, the bust of you would be right up front, I'm sure."

  Adama grimaced and said, "God, Starbuck, I hope not."

  "I wish you a safe trip to your home ship," Sarge said.

  "Thank you, Sarge," Apollo said. "What are you going to do now?"

  "I'll find my way to my own home, my own planet. Eventually."

  "Eventually?"

  "There is some work I feel I should do here. I am well trained. There are ways I can help to restore Yevra to its former state."

  "And then you'll go?"

  "Then I'll go."

  "I wish I could take you with us. We need brave warriors on the Galactica."

  "I am no longer a warrior. I would not be comfortable on your ship."

  "I wish you could be, but I understand. Well, what do you do in your culture to display a fond farewell to a comrade?"

  "We are not demonstrative. We merely say farewell."

  "Then farewell, Sarge."

  "Farewell, Apollo."

  Sarge showed no emotion as he turned and walked away from Apollo, yet Apollo was certain the reptilian creature had felt something. He wanted to run after Sarge, embrace him or shake his hand, but he couldn't risk offending him.

  Croft and Sheba strolled to their Vipers.

  "I'll be glad to get off this place," Croft said.

  "I don't know. It's going to be pleasant here now, once it's restored to its former—"

  "Nah. There're always gonna be the scars of war all around. On the landscape, the rubble of old villages, the scars inside. Yevra will never be the same. They may figure out ways to start new wars."

  "The old cynicism, huh? At least it shows you're back to normal, Croft."

  "And speaking of back to normal, when we get back to the Galactica, I'd like for us to share a bottle of Ambrosa and exchange old war stories."

  "Well, you just stare into your drink and, if you see me there, start talking."

  Croft smiled. The old Sheba seemed to be back, too. He was tempted to put his arm around her. He knew it would annoy her, and he liked that. But, for once, he decided against annoying someone. Instead, they walked silently, Croft sneaking looks at Sheba's profile. It was lovely, he thought, the way her features complemented her large eyes. He wondered if he could change his ways for her. He doubted it.

  Apollo had trouble finding words to say to Xiomara.

  "Then you know where to look for Trelon?"

  "I think so. At least as near as I can figure with the records I found in the bastion's file room. I know his last assignment anyway."

  "I hope you find him. And I . . . I hope you . . ."

  He couldn't figure a way to phrase what he wanted to say, so she said it for him, "Find a way to get rid of this face? Maybe I will. Believe me, Apollo, I am frightened of the day when I do find Trelon. What if I'm wrong about him, or what if he's changed by the war? He might take one look at this face and run."

  "I don't think so."

  She looked off toward the horizon, herself unable to speak for a moment. She finally said, "It'll be enough to know he's alive. If he doesn't want me, well . . ."

  "He'll want you."

  For a long while they stood awkwardly, in silence, then Xiomara said, "Well, your friends and your father are all assembled. Go quickly."

  "Xiomara . . ."

  "Don't say it. So long, hero."

  Apollo moved toward her instead of away. She started to wave him back but was not successful. He took her in his arms and kissed her. As they separated he smiled at her tenderly, then turned abruptly and ran to his Viper.

  Soon all of the pilots were in their cockpits. At an order from Adama they taxied into formation and then quickly took off. The Vipers sailed upward, turned in formation, and passed over Xiomara, who kept her eyes fixed upon them. They flew upward and vanished into the upper atmosphere.

  For a moment Xiomara was not sure of what to do, where to start. Then she was aware of someone standing beside her. She turned and saw Beskaroon. She wondered if she was in danger from him now that the others had gone.

  "Ready, are you?" he asked.

  "For . . . for what?"

  "Going to help you find your, what is his name, Trelzin, we are."

  "Trelon."

  "Yeah, Trelon. More help you can get, sooner you can find him."

  "You said we?"

  "Yep. He's gonna help, too—Sarge. Hey, Sarge! You comin'?"

  As they watched Sarge amble toward them, Xiomara had a sudden memory of an event that had occurred the previous day. Apollo had been showing her his Viper, explaining how it worked. He had cleaned and polished it, and it shone brightly. As he talked on about controls and maneuverability, she caught sight of herself reflected on the Viper's surface. Her face was lovely, perhaps it had never been lovelier. She wanted to interrupt Apollo, point to her image, then she had realized he would not see that image. It had saddened her briefly, but she had been able to ignore the reflection for the rest of Apollo's explanation.

  Now Sarge joined Xiomara and Beskaroon and silently they started in the direction of the place that bastion records had indicated as Trelon's last posting. Xiomara wondered if an outsider would have considered them a strange trio. A man who was clearly an oafish lout, a lizardlike being still in his sergeant's uniform, and a woman with a deformed face. Ah, what did it matter what an outsider thought?

  Soon they were walking down a wide road. They passed many dazed refugees of the war. Sarge had to stop every few steps for Xiomara and Beskaroon to catch up.

  Table of Contents

  CONTENTS

  PART I

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PART II

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN