Battlestar Galactica 6 - The Living Legend

by Glen A. Larson

  Omega, face pale, looked up from the console.

  "Sir, signal coming in on fleet comline Alpha!"

  Adama turned a frankly disbelieving gaze on Omega.

  "That's impossible. The Alpha line is an automatic scramble communicator between warships, and we're the only surviving warship left. Check your systems, there must be—"

  At that moment, the image on the monitor screens was replaced by the face of Commander Cain.

  "Well, Adama, you old wardaggit, I might have known I'd find you and your fleet sitting dead on its ass."

  Adama stared at the screen, eyes wide with shock. Slowly, he sank into his command chair.

  "Cain! By all that's holy . . ."

  Cain chuckled. "Nothing holy about me, old friend. What's the matter? You look as though you've seen a ghost. I can't be looking that bad."

  The crew of the bridge all gathered around Adama, staring at the monitor screens. There wasn't one of them who hadn't heard of Commander Cain. Yet, according to all reports, his ship had perished over two yahrens ago.

  The screens showed Cain sitting casually in his command chair on the bridge of the Pegasus, his leg draped over the arm of his chair. With one hand, he was holding a swagger stick and absently tapping it against his boot.

  "Adama! Wake up, man. Are you just going to sit there and let me plow through your whole fleet or do I get some sort of rendezvous instructions?"

  Adama finally overcame the shock of seeing a man he had thought long dead.

  "Yes, yes, of course. Colonel Tigh, make ready to board Commander Cain and position the Pegasus to defend our flank. It's a miracle, Cain. A blessed miracle . . ."

  "I make my own miracles," Cain replied dryly. "But have it your way. I'll be aboard in a few centons."

  "And I'll have some vintage Ambrosa waiting for you," Adama said.

  Cain grinned. "Well, I should think so."

  His image disappeared from the screens.

  Tigh shook his head. "My God. He's alive. I thought he perished with the fifth fleet more than two yahrens ago."

  "That's the fabric of miracles, Colonel," said Adama, "the impossible. Once again, we're delivered."

  The men and women on the bridge broke into cheers and wild applause.

  The doors of the shuttle opened and Cain stepped out onto the landing deck of the Galactica, accompanied by two warriors in full dress. The throng that packed the landing bay cheered his arrival. They were like a family greeting a long lost prodigal son. Adama rushed up to Cain and embraced him.

  "God bless you, old friend," he said. "You don't know how I feel at this moment. I'm at a loss for words."

  "Me too," said Cain. He clapped Adama on the shoulder. "It's good to see you once again, old friend. And I have a present for you to mark the occasion." He turned to one of his aides. "Where are those space loiterers we picked up? Front and center!"

  Adama could not believe his eyes when he saw his son and Starbuck emerging from the shuttle. He fought back tears as he embraced Apollo.

  "Son! I thought I'd seen the last of you."

  "You would have, too," said Cain, "if my daughter hadn't cut them off when she did. They were headed right for Gomoray."

  "Gomoray? I had no idea we were so close to the Delphian Empire!"

  "It was the Delphian Empire," said Cain. "It is now the newest colony of the Cylon Empire. They've turned it into a model of machine efficiency."

  "But . . . that was a society of some fifty million living beings," said Adama.

  Cain shook his head. "Not anymore."

  There was stunned silence on the landing deck as the import of his words sank in. The Cylons had exterminated an entire species.

  "Guess you're a little out of touch with life on the front lines," said Cain. "Well . . . Come on, old friend, where's that Ambrosa you promised me?"

  In Commander Adama's private quarters, a subdued Commander Cain sat opposite his friend, his fingers toying with the stem of his drinking glass.

  "When the fifth fleet was destroyed," said Cain, "I took every survivor I could aboard the Pegasus and headed straight for Gomoray, their most recent supply base. There was nowhere else to go. Any attempt to get back to the colonies would have resulted in the destruction of my ship. It was what the Cylons expected me to try. So I set course for Gomoray, only when we arrived, it was to discover that the Delphians had been wiped out by the Cylons. Fortunately, it's only a recently established colony of theirs and nowhere near being at full strength. We've managed to survive by living off them ever since, like pirates. There was nothing else to do. We needed to hit them for supplies and I simply couldn't risk going back."

  "It's incredible," said Adama. "If they've conquered Gomoray, then that means they wield power halfway across the universe."

  Cain nodded. "We're surrounded. The only thing I've been able to do is keep hitting their base as often as I can so they can't build up enough to launch a full strike against me. I've been very lucky. What I've never understood is why they haven't sent for a force of base ships to finish us off. Now it's quite clear why they didn't."

  "You mean we're the reason."

  "It all makes sense now," Cain said. "I could never understand it before, but now I see that this rebel fleet of yours must have received first priority. They obviously want you very badly. I was never able to break their code. I had no idea there were other survivors."

  "Nor did I," Adama said. "Your arrival has been a tremendous lift for all our people."

  "And a deathblow to the Cylons," Cain said grimly. "We can take them now, Adama! This is the turning point!"

  Adama shook his head.

  "My old friend . . . All we can hope to take from the Cylons is much needed fuel. A military victory is out of the question."

  Cain frowned. "What are you talking about? I've had them on their knees in this sector with just one battlestar! With two, I can finish them! At least on Gomoray."

  "And then what?"

  "Then we'll have all the fuel we need," said Cain, setting his glass down so hard that it broke. "And a base from which to strike!"

  Adama sighed. Cain hadn't changed. As always, he was too eager, too ready to throw all cautions to the winds,

  "Cain, we cannot secure this planet. Those base ships that haven't bothered you are after me en masse. Our only hope is to raid them for fuel and then move on."

  Cain stared at Adama for a long time.

  "You mean, run?" he said at last.

  "I mean escape."

  "But why, dammit? We can outfly them. We can outfight them. We can—"

  "In case you haven't noticed," Adama interrupted him, "I'm protecting a hundred and twenty ships that are only capable of crawling along at speeds that aren't good for anything but target practice. Maybe you can outfly them, Cain. But I can't."

  "There has to be another way," said Cain.

  "There isn't. But your knowledge of the Cylon supply lines will be invaluable. If we could intercept several of their tankers—"

  "Why bother with tankers?" said Cain. "Why not hit the fuel base on Gomoray?"

  "I'm low on fuel," Adama said. "We're barely able to sustain life support systems as it is. I can't leave these ships without protection while I take on an entire planet with nothing but my fuel reserves."

  "So don't," Cain said. "Just give me a couple of your best squadrons and I'll take that fuel depot myself."

  "I'll be happy to settle for enough to get us out of here," Adama said. "You prepare the battle plan to hit their tankers, I'll approve it. Meanwhile, enjoy a few centons of hospitality aboard the Galactica. Kobol knows, you deserve it."

  Cain nodded, although he clearly wasn't pleased.

  "Very well, Adama. If that's the way you want it."

  "That's the way it has to be," Adama said. "I have no choice."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Apollo and Starbuck walked rapidly down a corridor in the Galactica's living quarters, heading for Cassiopeia's cabin.

 
"What are you going to do?" Apollo asked his friend.

  "Find some way to let him down easy," said Starbuck. "You don't just dump on a national hero."

  "You're assuming Cassiopeia isn't going to be as excited as everyone else in the fleet that he's back. Perhaps she knows already—it's all over the ship."

  They stopped at her door.

  "Apollo," Starbuck said.

  "Oh, yes, that's right," said Apollo, looking at his friend with a perfectly straight face. "I forgot. Once they've experienced Starbuck's famous charm . . ."

  "Come on, stow it, will you? That wasn't what I meant and you know it. But let's face it, he is an older man. And whatever it was they had between them was a long time ago."

  Starbuck buzzed to announce his arrival.

  "You're on your own," said Apollo. "Good luck."

  Starbuck entered.

  Cassiopeia was not alone. She was spending some time with Boxey and his mechanized daggit. It was hard for children aboard the Galactica. There were not many of them in the rag-tag fleet, and all the adults were very aware of the fact that it was crucial in their development for them to have some time in which to be children. So they all made time for the little ones whenever they could. Their chances for survival were not great, but still, they were humanity's hope for the future.

  "Starbuck!"

  She jumped up and hugged him, giving him a friendly kiss. Starbuck had a feeling that it would have been considerably more friendly were it not for Boxey's presence.

  "Hi, Starbuck!" Boxey jumped up and ran to his side. "Is my father back?"

  Suddenly, Starbuck did not feel quite so self-confident as he did moments ago.

  "Yeah, kid. He is."

  Something in his tone alerted the sensitive Boxey to the fact that something was amiss.

  "What's the matter?" cried the boy, suddenly anxious. "He's not hurt, is he?"

  "No, no, nothing like that," said Starbuck.

  "Come on, Muffey," Boxey said to his daggit droid. "We're going to find Dad."

  He charged out of the room, his robot pet skittering after him as fast as it was able.

  "Starbuck," Cassiopeia said, when they were alone. "What is it? I can tell something's bothering you. What's wrong?"

  Starbuck forgot the carefully rehearsed speech he had been going to make. What he said came out disjointed, awkward.

  "I have some news for you," he said. "It's about an old friend of yours. Someone you may have been involved with. Or maybe someone you just liked, I don't know, but at any rate, he's been found alive—"

  "Starbuck, what are you talking about?" she said. "Who's been found alive?"

  "Look, I know it's all over between you, but we have to find some way to let him down easy. If you want to do it, fine. But I'll be glad to handle it for you if you think it's going to be too awkward . . ."

  "Starbuck, will you get to the point? Who are we talking about?"

  "Commander Cain."

  Starbuck had never counted on her reaction. It seemed as if all the breath had been knocked out of her and, for the briefest moment, her eyes seemed to glaze. Then she bolted past him and ran out into the hall, moving quickly down the corridor. Starbuck could only stare after her stupidly.

  Apollo was on the bridge, having a reunion with his son when Starbuck entered.

  "Well? How'd she take the news?" Apollo said.

  "Worse than I thought. She wanted to be alone."

  Apollo fixed Starbuck with a steady gaze. He knew his friend too well not to be able to tell when Starbuck wasn't being entirely honest with him.

  "Hey," he said, "it's me, Apollo, remember? I'm your friend. Friends are supposed to be able to talk."

  Starbuck nodded. "Yeah, well . . . I guess I just don't like to admit to anyone that I'm capable of forming attachments."

  "You don't even like to admit it to yourself," Apollo said. "I've never understood that about you."

  Starbuck sat down in one of the chairs behind the console. "You were always part of a big family," he said. "I never had that. I just grew up keeping the number of people around me as large as I could."

  "So that you couldn't get hurt by any particular one," said Apollo. "Starbuck, there's nothing wrong with feeling vulnerable."

  "It isn't that I care if Cassiopeia feels something for Cain," he said, trying to shrug it off, "it's just that I can't see it. He's . . . he's . . ."

  "Too old? Better read up on your Book of the Word," said Apollo. "Some of the Elders of Kobol were sealed to some very young wives."

  "Wives? Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves? She couldn't . . . she wouldn't marry him! Anyway, who cares? Certainly not me."

  Starbuck got up and left the bridge, walking quickly.

  "Poor Starbuck," said Boxey, who had heard every word and understood an awful lot for one so young. "Oh, well. He still has Athena. And Miran. And Noday and—"

  "That'll be enough of that," Apollo said. "Who told you to listen, anyway?"

  Cain was relaxing in his guest quarters aboard the Galactica, a cabin that had been vacated temporarily for him. What with the way things had been, there was no surplus of accommodations aboard the battlestar. He was finishing off the bottle of Ambrosa Adama had given him as a gift when the buzzer announced a caller.

  "Enter."

  He got up and adjusted his scarf. Then froze. Cassiopeia stood in the doorway.

  "Cassi . . ." he said in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

  There were tears in her eyes. Hesitantly, they moved toward one another, then they were in each other's arms, her head buried against his chest. Cain hugged her close, brushing his mouth against her hair.

  "I thought you were dead," he said. "I'd given up hope . . ."

  "Oh, I've missed you," Cassiopeia said. "I had to force myself to stop thinking about you. I—"

  Abruptly, she pulled away.

  "I understand," Cain said quietly. "I couldn't have expected you to wait. It wouldn't have been fair. Especially with all those young warriors around. They're all madly in love with you, I'm sure."

  "No, only one," she said. "And he does not love easily."

  "Then don't waste your time on him."

  She shook her head. "He's not a waste of time. He's just afraid of caring too much. Sometimes he reminds me of you. He had a pretty rough childhood."

  "No worse than yours, I'm sure," said Cain.

  She sighed. "We all handle loneliness in our own ways. My way was to reach out to everyone. Starbuck's was to shut everybody out."

  "Starbuck." Cain thought back to the time aboard the Pegasus, when he had shown them a holographic image of Cassiopeia. He had thought they didn't know her. But now he could see why they hadn't said anything. He wondered what Starbuck must have felt at the time.

  "He's a great warrior," Cassiopeia said. "One of the finest pilots we have. Perhaps the best."

  "He is, huh?" Cain smiled. It was clear she was no longer his. But then, he would have been a fool to have expected anything else. He was just overjoyed to see she was alive.

  "I wasn't comparing the two of you," she said defensively. "You're going to have to give me some time to think. It's all just too much right now."

  "We may not have much time," said Cain.

  She nodded. "I know. What about Sheba? Is she . . .?"

  "She's grown up to be a beautiful young woman," Cain said. "And the finest fighter pilot in the fleet."

  "I have a feeling she won't be very happy to hear that I've returned from the dead," Cassiopeia said.

  "No, perhaps not. Children don't understand the needs a man can have at different times of his life. You came into mine just after her mother died. It may have been difficult for her, but if it weren't for you . . ."

  "You don't have to say it," Cassiopeia said. "But did you ever stop to think that maybe Sheba wanted to fill that role?"

  "She's my daughter."

  Cassiopeia smiled. "I could be your daughter, as well."

  "Y
ou could be. But you aren't."

  "It isn't as cut and dried as you make it out to be," said Cassiopeia. "If all you were looking for was physical fulfillment, companionship to keep you from feeling lonely, any socialator would have done as well."

  "You know there was more to it than that, Cassi."

  "Yes, I know. And so did Sheba. Because of that, I was a threat to her."

  "She's a grown woman now, Cassi. I'm sure she understands."

  "I wish I could be so sure. We're almost the same age. Because I was able to give you something Sheba never could, besides physical love, she resented me. Is there any reason for her to feel differently now?"

  Cain looked into her eyes. "I don't know, Cassi. I guess a lot of that depends on you."

  The Officers' Club aboard the Galactica was crowded as the pilots from both ships gathered together to celebrate their reunion. The center of attraction was a tall, vibrantly beautiful young woman who piloted one of the Vipers from the Pegasus.

  "Our basic strategy," said Sheba, "has been to keep attacking the Cylon base on Gomoray. Hitting them as often as we can, as hard as we can, giving them as little opportunity to regroup as possible. Every time they manage to rebuild, we go in and turn their ground base to scrap metal. It's the only way we've been able to survive, to keep them constantly on the defensive."

  "I want to hear from the pilots of the Galactica," said Bojay. "You must be keeping the tinheads pretty busy yourselves."

  Apollo moved up to their table and took a chair.

  "Sure," he said. "Just last week, we shot down a Cylon patrol ship. Mind if I join you?"

  Sheba looked him over.

  "My name is Apollo. Strike Captain Apollo. I believe you spent a lot of time on my tail. You are Sheba, aren't you?"

  She smiled. "Yes. To both questions."

  "Surely you weren't serious about shooting down just one Cylon patrol ship in a whole week," said Bojay.

  "Very serious," replied Apollo. "When you're responsible for the lives of hundreds of civilians crammed aboard slow-moving barges, you have to learn to keep a low profile."

  "It sounds like we're going to be incompatible," said Sheba dryly.