Battlestar Galactica 6 - The Living Legend

by Glen A. Larson

  "Were you aiming at a fighter? I didn't see him."

  "You didn't, Captain? He was as clear as a Nubian Sun to me."

  "What happened to the tankers?"

  "I don't know. Looks like we've come up empty. Let's regroup the squadrons and head for home."

  Apollo kept silent.

  "Fighter squadrons returning, Commander," said Colonel Tigh.

  Adama heaved a sigh of relief. The gamble had paid off. They were dangerously low on fuel.

  "Only . . ." said Tigh, his voice trailing off.

  "Only what, Colonel?"

  "No tankers, sir. It appears they've been unable to locate the convoy."

  Adama's heart sank. "Cain seemed so certain."

  "What is certain is that we can't stay here, sir. We're too vulnerable. And we can't move without fuel. It looks like we have no options left. We're going to have to attack their main base."

  Everything suddenly became crystal clear. Cain! Adama had refused to approve his plan to attack the Cylon ground base and now the commander of the Pegasus had forced his hand. Now they had no choice but to do it Cain's way.

  "I want Commander Cain and the strike captains in my quarters as soon as they land," Adama said. He turned briskly and stalked off the bridge.

  Tigh stood there tensely, watching the scanners as the strike force made its landing approach. He was old enough to remember Cain's battle tactics. The commander of the Pegasus was unquestionably a brilliant tactician and a superb flyer, but he had always been a maverick. A lesser man would have been broken for the things that Cain had done, only Cain had always brought results. This time the results could be disastrous. An attack on a Cylon ground base was dangerous enough in itself, but attempting to land there and steal their fuel? It was one thing to raid their convoys, as Cain had done to stay alive. But what he had now forced them to do seemed like certain suicide for whoever undertook the mission. Cain had set his plan in motion and now it could not be stopped. Indeed, thought Tigh, how do you stop a juggernaut?

  Apollo stood in his father's private quarters, watching as Cain finessed his way out of taking blame for the destruction of the tankers. He was very smooth. The way he spoke, even Apollo might have believed him. But Apollo had been there and he knew what he had seen.

  "I'm sorry, Adama," Cain was saying. "We were outnumbered and fighting for our lives. The fact that we came through it without casualties speaks well for our pilots, but still, with that many ships in combat, all around those tankers . . ." He shook his head sadly. "I knew I was right when I suggested that we only send my squadrons. Nothing against Blue Squadron, but my people are more experienced in hit-and-run tactics against a convoy."

  "You may be right," Adama said wearily. "Maybe it was a mistake to mix two forces that never fought together."

  It was all Apollo could do to keep his temper in check. Cain was making it sound as though the tankers had been destroyed through sheer carelessness on the part of his strike wing.

  "Commander," he said stiffly, "with all due respect, Blue Squadron was nowhere near those two tankers when they blew up. Commander Cain knows that perfectly well. It was on his order that we pursued and engaged the fleeing Cylon fighters."

  Apollo looked directly at Cain as he spoke, challenging the commander of the Pegasus to dispute him. Then he looked at Sheba, who could not have helped hearing her father's order to Apollo's squadron. She would not meet his gaze.

  "Nothing personal, Apollo," Cain said. "You and your squadron handled yourselves as well as any warriors I've ever seen. It was a honor to have you along. And I wouldn't dream of attacking the Cylon ground base without you."

  "You're not seriously suggesting that we—"

  "I don't see that we have any choice now. Do you, Adama?"

  "It does seem as though we have no other alternative," Adama said. His voice sounded strained. "I'll give you my decision later."

  "It can't wait till later," said Cain. "We have to start working up a battle plan right now. I'd like—"

  "I'll give you my decision."

  "Adama, with all due respect—"

  "Dismissed, Commander."

  Cain stiffened. It was the first time Adama had pulled rank on him and it clearly didn't sit well. He started to say something in reply, then thought better of it. He nodded.

  "Very well. I'll be in the Officers' Club. Let me know when you've made up your mind."

  He snapped to and pivoted a smart about-face, departing without another word. The others followed him. No one seemed anxious to linger in that atmosphere of tension. No one except Apollo.

  "Father . . ."

  Adama turned to face him. Suddenly there was no point to saying anything. What Cain had done had locked them on their course. Cain's course. Adama had a difficult decision to make, the hardest part about it was that Cain had left him no alternatives. Like it or not, they would have to do it his way.

  "Nothing," said Apollo and left the cabin.

  Outside, he hurried to catch up to Cain and Sheba.

  "Sheba . . ."

  They stopped.

  "I'd like to talk to you," he said.

  Clearly, Sheba wasn't in a mood for having conversation. She had just seen her father effectively dressed down. Apollo wondered what else she had seen back on the strike mission.

  "I was just about to join my father at the club," she said in a voice that indicated she wasn't anxious for Apollo's company.

  "It's all right, baby," Cain said. "Talk to the man. Cassi and I will save you a place."

  Sheba flinched slightly at the mention of Cassiopeia's name.

  "On the other hand, I think perhaps I'll skip the club and return to the Pegasus."

  Cain nodded. "Suit yourself," he said and moved on.

  Apollo stood in her way.

  "Sheba, what happened out there?"

  "You heard the report," she said stiffly. "The tankers were hit by incidental fire."

  "Are you telling me that someone as good as you are, as good as the Silver Spar Squadron is, blew the whole purpose of our mission accidentally? Is that what you're saying?"

  She hesitated. "That's what I'm saying."

  Apollo's lips compressed into a thin line.

  "Well. Then it appears we've found a weakness or two, haven't we, Lieutenant?"

  She knew her father had purposely sabotaged the mission. There was no question in Apollo's mind, she knew. What galled Apollo was that she would not admit it. Angrily, he turned and left her before he could say something that later both of them might regret. As he had said to her before, they would have to work together. Only she had just made that a lot more difficult. Cain's words came back to him at that moment. "Like father, like daughter."

  All the officers were gathered on the bridge of the Galactica, waiting to hear Adama's decision. They talked quietly amongst themselves. Only Cain was silent. He knew without a doubt what that decision was going to be. He had already made it for them. Adama entered and they all fell silent.

  "Gentlemen, ladies," said Adama, nodding a curt greeting. "The data from the scanners aboard the Pegasus have made it clear that to attack the Cylon ground base on Gomoray would necessitate the forfeiture of countless lives. Those are losses unacceptable to me even if we were to successfully seize fuel from the Cylon depot."

  "Adama," said Cain. "We have no choice. You know that as well as I do. Without fuel your fleet is dead. It's only a matter of time before the Cylon base ships arrive and attack us. They know we've destroyed their convoy. They know you're here, Adama."

  "There is another alternative open to us," Adama said. "The Pegasus is carrying a maximum load of fuel. I'm going to divide it amongst the fleet."

  "You'll what?"

  "It will be sufficient to get us out of Cylon-controlled space with no loss of life. With any luck, we'll be able to locate another source of fuel before we run out."

  "Commander," said Cain, "with all due respect, we cannot afford to risk the lives of every man, woman an
d child in the fleet on luck. All the fuel we need is right there at the base on Gomoray. By all that's holy, Adama, we have two battlestars to hit them with!"

  "You seem to be forgetting one thing," Adama replied evenly. "Do you realize what could happen if we left this fleet of civilian ships unprotected while we went off to attempt conquering an entire planet?"

  "We're not taking on the planet," Cain protested. "Our objective is the Cylon ground base. And we can do it, Adama. We can be in and out before they know what hit 'em."

  "Cain, you know as well as I that we've been pursued by Cylon base ships ever since we left our own star system. They strike without warning. Even now, they could be closing in on us. You're asking me to gamble with the lives of everybody in my fleet."

  "Anything is possible," said Cain. "I prefer to deal in probabilities, and the probabilities are that with our combined strength we can achieve our first clean victory since we lost the war. We can—"

  "I'm not interested in victories," snapped Adama. "I'm interested in saving lives. The few lives we have left. Colonel Tigh, carry out the task of redistributing the fuel from the Pegasus throughout the fleet."

  Cain's voice was icy as he spoke. "I will not allow that, Commander."

  Adama's gaze locked with Cain's.

  "You have no choice."

  "I think I do. I think that two yahrens of surviving the Cylons with no help from you has earned my people the right to decide their own destiny."

  "The way you decided the destiny of those Cylon tankers?" said Adama.

  It was finally out in the open. There was no one aboard either battlestar who had not heard of the failure of the strike mission against the Cylon convoy. The silence on the bridge became a tangible thing.

  "I did what I thought I had to do to assure the survival of our people," Cain said. "How long do you suppose the fuel supply from those two tankers would have lasted? We need enough fuel to sustain this fleet indefinitely. We must take that base."

  "That's one opinion, Commander," said Adama. "It doesn't happen to be mine, and I'm going to alleviate your being forced into making any more decisions contrary to orders. As of this moment, you are dismissed from command. Colonel Tigh, you will assume command of the Pegasus."

  Adama left the bridge. No one spoke. Slowly, all the officers began to file out. None of them looked at Cain, who stood stunned and alone.

  Sheba and Bojay found Cain in the Officers' Club, sitting all by himself and drinking. Sheba had never seen her father looking so . . . defeated. They approached his table.

  "Father," she said, "I want you to know that I, and the men, will follow you in whatever you decide to do."

  Cain snorted. "Thanks, Sheba. But you heard the man. I don't decide anything anymore."

  Bojay licked his lips nervously. "Sir, what we meant was—"

  "I know what you meant. What I did on that strike mission was a matter of tactical misjudgment. Perhaps that's splitting hairs, but what you're thinking of is mutiny. I may be the most stubborn, egocentric warrior in the history of the colonies, but I'm also the best damned warrior in the history of the colonies. I have no intention of being remembered as the one who pulled out and left a lot of defenseless civilians at the mercy of the Cylons. Lord knows, I've always been . . . creative in interpreting the orders of my superiors, but there's no room for interpretation in Adama's relieving me of my command. He took the Pegasus away from me. In front of everyone. And there's nothing I can do about it."

  Sheba fought to control the quaver in her voice. "He has no right . . ."

  "He has every right," said Cain. "Even if he were not on the Council of the Twelve, Adama's commission was posted before mine and he outranks me. It burns me, Sheba, but I'll not lead a mutiny. I may have had to live like a pirate for the past two yahrens, but I'll be damned if I'll be one."

  Baltar had come a long way, in more ways than one. From a traitor condemned to death because he was of no further use to the Cylon Empire, he was now in command of three Cylon base ships. And he had come a very long way indeed, halfway across the galaxy, searching for the Battlestar Galactica and its pathetic fleet.

  He had mixed emotions about his task. He wanted to see Adama dead more than he had ever wanted anything, and he knew that the Cylon leaders were not patient. Time and time again, Adama had eluded his grasp, and if he did not find and destroy the last survivors of the colonies soon, the Cylons might decide that his usefulness had ended. On the other hand, should he manage to destroy Adama's fleet, it was entirely possible that the Cylons would decide he was of no further use to them. They had set a human to catch a human, but at the same time they had sworn to exterminate humanity. Baltar was not convinced that he would be excluded. He already knew how well the Cylons kept their bargains.

  Back when the Cylon Empire had sued for peace, there had been only two men who had not been taken in. Himself and Adama. Adama had sought to warn the Council of the Cylons' treachery, but they were all old men and weary of the war. They were willing to jump at any chance to bring the ages-old conflict to a close.

  Baltar had not been fooled. He suspected that the Cylons were planning something underhanded, and rather than risk being destroyed with the rest of the old fools, he had approached the Cylons with an offer that fitted in perfectly with their designs. He would act as go-between for the Cylon Empire, lulling the Council into a false sense of security, thwarting Adama's efforts and buying the Cylon Empire the necessary time to enable them to get their base ships into position to launch an all-out strike against the colonies. In return for his services, the Cylons had promised to spare Baltar and his colony, to set him up as leader. They promised. As Baltar had seen it, there was no way for the colonies to win. He had no desire to die with them.

  His efforts had helped the Cylons to make their victory a devastating one. But they had not spared his people. He could still recall the terror that he felt when he had been dragged from the presence of Imperious Leader by Cylon Centurions, screaming and begging for his life. If it had not been for Lucifer's intervention, he would have been beheaded and flushed out of the Cylon base ship with the garbage.

  It all seemed so long ago. Baltar knew he was on borrowed time, but perhaps, just perhaps, he would be able to convince the Cylons that he was of more use to them alive than dead. Meanwhile they had allowed him all the privileges of a commander of a base ship, and he had every intention of enjoying his new station in life to its fullest extent.

  Lucifer glided silently up to his throne.

  "By your command," said the strange creation to whom Baltar owed his life.

  "Speak."

  "Our scouts have located the trailing vessels of the Colonial Fleet."

  "They turned back before they were discovered, I trust," said Baltar.

  "By your order," Lucifer replied.

  "Well done. This is the final moment." Baltar sighed. "At long last I have overtaken Adama, with sufficient strength to wipe out the Galactica and its so-called fleet."

  "It should be a good battle," Lucifer said.

  "Battle." Baltar spat the word out. "It will be no battle at all. A single battlestar is no match for three base ships. What we have here, my dear Lucifer, is what is known as a rout . . . a humiliation . . . a massacre."

  "Then you do not wish to send for support fighters from our base on Gomoray?"

  Baltar smiled. "The only thing I want from Gomoray is a welcoming parade, a victory celebration, a tribute from the people of Gomoray to the greatest military leader the Cylon Empire has ever known. It cannot fail to impress Imperious Leader. I will convince him to let me have Gomoray as my seat of power, from which I will extend my dominion throughout the star system in the name of the Cylon Empire!"

  "It might be wise," said Lucifer, "to first go through the formality of defeating the humans before ordering our victory celebration."

  There were times when the sophisticated Cylon construct infuriated Baltar beyond all endurance. In spite of the fact that Lucifer
had saved his life, Baltar hated the sentient machine. With its ability to tie into the base ship's computers, Lucifer had at his command more knowledge than Baltar could ever hope to amass, and Lucifer seemed to enjoy pointing out Baltar's shortcomings. Nevertheless, Baltar was the one whom Imperious Leader had placed in command, not Lucifer. A fact of which Baltar was fond of reminding Lucifer at every opportunity.

  "That had a note of sarcasm, Lucifer," said Baltar. "Watch yourself. You are not the only I.L. series Cylon. You could easily be replaced."

  "Forgive my impudence," said Lucifer, though he did not sound contrite. "Should I give the launch order?"

  "Yes, yes, by all means," said Baltar, anxious now that the Galactica was within his grasp. "No . . . wait. I have an even better idea. I will accompany the strike force."

  "You? Go into battle?" Lucifer modulated his voice to allow a much more subtle note of sarcasm to creep into it.

  "Why not?" said Baltar. "Think of the impression it will create on the city of Gomoray when they learn that I personally led the final assault on the humans. Prepare a ship with your two best pilots."

  "By your command," said Lucifer.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Apollo and Boomer brought the shuttle alongside the Pegasus and waited to receive their landing instructions. On the bridge, Colonel Tigh was at the command console, pacing nervously as Tolen manned the scanners.

  "The fueling shuttles are coming alongside," said Tolen.

  "Fine, bring them aboard and proceed with the redistribution of fuel to all the ships in the fleet," said Tigh.

  It wasn't easy. Cain's crew clearly resented him. Tigh had dreamed, once, of commanding a battlestar, but not this way. Cain had brought it on himself. He had pushed too far. Still, it seemed that Adama had finally stopped the Juggernaut. That was how it seemed. Somehow, Tigh had his own doubts. Defeat was a word that was alien to Cain.

  "Colonel?" said Tolen, seeming to read the thoughts going through his mind.

  "Yes, what is it?"

  "I think you know that there's a lot of bad feeling festering aboard this ship," Tolen said. "I wonder if we shouldn't delay this operation until things settle down a bit."