Battlestar Galactica 6 - The Living Legend

by Glen A. Larson

  It seemed that the commander of the Battlestar Galactica and Baltar had known each other for a very long time, and Adama's achievements in the human society were far greater than those of Baltar. Had they both been Cylons, it would simply have been an accepted fact that Adama had been awarded a higher place in their society because he was more qualified to hold it, but being human, Baltar was vain and believed that the honors given to Adama were due him as well. It was absurd to think that way, but it seemed that humans were not content to accept what they were, instead deluding themselves with false perceptions of what they felt they were entitled to be. It had taken a great deal of time for Lucifer to explain this to Imperious Leader, for it was a type of thinking that was completely alien to him. It proved, yet again, the inferiority of the human race. Baltar's feelings toward Adama led him to hate the man with such a passion that he had been willing to sell out his own race in order to enable himself to triumph over Adama.

  When he was made to understand all this, it did not escape Imperious Leader that by giving Baltar the command of the force sent to hunt down the human survivors, he was sending a less qualified human against one who was more qualified, by the standards of their own race. In a way, it was like sending off a Cylon drone to perform the tasks of a warrior. Yet, there were compensations that should have enabled Baltar to complete his task. For one thing, he had been given the command of a force that was vastly superior than that commanded by Adama and, for another, he had Lucifer with him, whose superior reasoning prowess would more than compensate for the inferiority of Baltar's intellect. Lucifer's presence on the mission served a twofold purpose. Besides compensating for Baltar's shortcomings, Lucifer was in a position to observe Baltar very closely. Through Lucifer's observation of Baltar, Imperious Leader would learn a great deal more about the humans.

  Being human, Baltar reacted like a human, so he was in a better position to hunt the survivors. Being vain, he had a double incentive to see his task accomplished. It would result in the destruction of a man whom he resented to the point of hatred and, he thought, it would prove to Imperious Leader that he was qualified to hold a position of importance in the Cylon nation. In fact, if he accomplished his task, the death order that Lucifer had postponed would be carried out. If he did not succeed in exterminating the sole survivors of his race, he would be executed the moment Lucifer determined that there was nothing more to be learned about the humans from observing him. Either way, the objective would eventually be accomplished.

  Had it not been for Baltar's vanity, the base commander on Gomoray would have been aware of the two battlestars in his sector, but the battle between the fleet commanded by Adama and the Cylon task force led by Baltar had taken place well outside the range of the base scanners, so he knew nothing of the threat to Gomoray. The only threat he was concerned with at that moment was that constituted by the visit of Imperious Leader. The supreme Cylon was coming to dedicate the base and Gomoray as a new center of Cylon culture. The Delphians had been a quite advanced society. Their culture paled by comparison with that of the Cylons, but they had nevertheless been brilliant architects. The capital city of Gomoray was a marvel of crystalline beauty. The conquest and extermination of the Delphians had resulted in a great deal of damage to their works, and the Cylon base commander had worked tirelessly to restore the cities. Gomoray's atmosphere and climate were such that it could easily support Cylon life, and it would be wasteful not to establish a flourishing colony upon the planet, yet another extension of the glorious Cylon Empire.

  Following what, in human measurement, would have been five yahrens of ceaseless labor by a massive force of Cylon workers, Gomoray had been restored to its former beauty. But the human raiders had seriously delayed the reconstruction. Their attacks had been directed at the ground base exclusively, but each time they had caused extensive damage that took time to repair. The base commander did not know where the humans had come from, he only knew that they were a severe annoyance to him. He had been placed in charge of establishing the Cylon colony upon Gomoray and that was his sole concern. The humans were an irritant, but he could not mount an offensive against them. He had no base ship at his command, and the human raiders had proved astonishingly skillful at avoiding his ground defenses. He did have fighter craft that he could send against them, but they were handicapped by the need to return to the base for fuel and, as such, could not pursue the accursed Vipers, whose battlestar could take them safely out of range. He had not reported the presence of the human raiders to his superiors because they would have wanted to know why it had taken him so long to complete his task on Gomoray. If he reported the presence of a human battlestar, his superiors would have sent a base ship to Gomoray and then they would have learned that the damage caused by the Cylon conquest of the Delphians was far less severe than he had reported. He had vastly exaggerated his reports because the humans had caused him long delays in the completion of his mission. Each time they attacked the ground base, he had to take time to repair the damage they had caused, which meant pulling a sizable portion of his labor force off the project of rebuilding the cities. He had hoped that he would be able to complete his task, for the human raiders had attacked only the ground base and spared the cities and, little by little, he was making progress. Once the job was done, then he could report the presence of the battlestar without having to worry about the commander of a base ship reporting back to his superiors that the Gomoray base commander was not up to the task that had been given him.

  Now he had learned that Imperious Leader himself was coming to dedicate the new Cylon capital and he dreaded the visit. He had driven his worker drones to the point of exhaustion and his robots to the point of breakdown in order to repair the damage caused by the last raid of the humans before Imperious Leader arrived, and his greatest fear was that the humans would attack while the Imperious Leader was on Gomoray. Then Imperious Leader would see for himself how much difficulty the base commander had in repulsing these raids and it would not go well for him. The base commander had no desire to lose his second brain and live out the remainder of his days as a simple warrior, or worse, to lose both brains and receive a rudimentary one, becoming a lowly worker drone. He would rather die. If only the humans did not attack until after the supreme Cylon's departure. Then he could safely report the "sudden arrival" of a human battlestar and request a base ship to be sent to Gomoray. He did not think that the humans would risk an attack on the ground base when their scanners detected the presence of Imperious Leader's flagship in orbit around Gomoray, but their commander was incredibly audacious and there was no telling what humans would do.

  He stiffened when the bronze Cylon centurion entered the base command room.

  "His eminence, the Imperious Leader, will be with us shortly," the centurion announced. "His shuttle has landed and he is even now on his way to the Grand Hall."

  The base commander checked his appearance one last time and hurried to the Grand Hall to greet Imperious Leader. If everything went well, it could mean a promotion for him. If anything went wrong, it would be a disaster.

  The Grand Hall was full to capacity when he arrived. Everyone was anxious to see the Imperious Leader in person and to give him the proper welcome. His visit to Gomoray was a great honor to them all, and they waited silently, expectantly. Most of them had never even seen Imperious Leader. He was the embodiment of the greatness of their race. His entrance would be a moment of prodigious importance.

  A bronze centurion marched into the hall and at once all eyes were on him.

  "Presenting his eminence," said the centurion, "our Imperious Leader!"

  The Imperious Leader, escorted by a party of his executive officers, appeared at the end of the hall, and the crowd parted for him as he moved down the center of the room toward the throne at the far end of the hall. Every Cylon stared, straining to get a good look at the red-robed figure that towered over all of them. He moved quickly yet with majesty as he approached the throne and ascended the step
s behind it. He stood for a moment upon the platform, looking out over the assembled multitude, then he took his place upon the throne, sitting atop a huge, cylindrical pedestal. The strange, dissonant music that was the anthem of the Cylon nation stopped as Imperious Leader sat down.

  "My fellow Cylons," he said. "It is indeed an honor to dedicate this center of Cylon culture to the advancement and perfection of the Cylon race. With this secure outpost deep in the heart of the Cryllion star system, our supremacy is assured—"

  He was interrupted as a series of explosions rocked the Great Hall. Imperious Leader turned to the base commander.

  "What, pray tell, was that?" His voice was ominous.

  The base commander stammered that he didn't know, although he felt certain that his worst fears had just been realized.

  "Well, find out, before I find a post more suitable to one of your limited knowledge."

  As the base commander hurried out of the hall, motioning several officers to follow him, another series of explosions sent debris raining down upon the throng.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The members of the Galactica's ground force never knew how close their mission had come to ending before it had begun. They were not aware that Imperious Leader had arrived at Gomoray, and the only thing that saved their shuttle from being picked up by the flagship's scanners was Gomoray itself. The supreme Cylon's ship was on the other side of the planet when the shuttle entered Gomoray's atmosphere. Omega had known that there was a good chance of the shuttle being picked up by the ground base tracking station, but he had counted on the fact they would be on the lookout for fast-moving Viper fighters. According to Commander Cain, shuttle traffic between the ground base and the Cylon orbital stations would aid them in their mission. It was not uncommon for the orbital stations and the satellites to be damaged by incidental fire in battles between Cylon fighters and Cain's Vipers. In the two yahrens that Cain had waged his private war against Gomoray, he had seriously delayed the Cylon reconstruction efforts and had knocked out several of their orbital stations.

  "It's going to be tense going in," Cain had told Omega, "but they're going to be expecting a squadron of Vipers, if they'll be expecting anything. They'd never think anyone would be crazy enough to attempt piloting a shuttle through their ground defenses."

  "Thanks," Omega had said sourly.

  "Well, that wasn't quite the way I meant it," Cain said. "Still, it is crazy and you're going to be completely on your own. We'll be counting on you to get our warriors down there. We won't be able to give you any cover. The hardest thing for you to do will be to keep your head. You've got to buy those people as much time as possible. As soon as you make the drop, there'll be the temptation to haul your ass out of there as fast as you can. Don't do it! You don't want to alert the Cylons on the ground. Keep your head and maintain a slow and steady speed, as if you were heading for a satellite or one of the orbital stations. I'd aim for a satellite if I were you, they're not equipped with scanners. The moment you close with one of the satellites, then go like hell. Chances are you won't be noticed, but if you are, at least you'll have, a head start and you won't have alerted the ground base until the last possible moment. Think you can do it?"

  "I'll do it, sir."

  "I believe you will. Good luck."

  No sooner had Apollo, Starbuck, Boomer, Cassiopeia, Bojay and Sheba made the jump than Omega knew exactly what Cain had been speaking of. He felt suddenly alone, completely vulnerable in the sky above the ground base. He had been nervous going in, but with the others in the shuttle with him, it had been easier to take. Now he felt as if any moment he would come under fire from one of the antiaircraft batteries on the ground or from a pursuing Cylon fighter. His nerves screamed at him to hit full power on the engines and get back as soon as possible, but he knew that he had to buy time for the ground assault team. There was also the fact that he could be easily overtaken by a fighter if he alerted them to his presence, so he flew slowly, steadily, maintaining a constant course for one of the Cylon weather satellites. By the time he left Gomoray's atmosphere, he was drenched in perspiration. Biting his lower lip, he kept repeating to himself over and over, "Steady, steady, keep it cool, don't blow it . . ."

  Just at the point when it would appear as though he was about to rendezvous with the weather satellite, he goosed his engines to full power. There followed an agonizing period of time in which he was not sure if he had escaped pursuit or not, but eventually he was satisfied that he had not been spotted. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. All that remained for him to do was to rendezvous with the Galactica. His part in the mission was over. For the others, it would be just beginning.

  Bojay was the first one out. Sheba followed him, then Apollo, Cassiopeia, Starbuck and Boomer. Bojay went into free-fall position, spreadeagled and facing down. Seconds later, Sheba had caught up with him, then Apollo and soon all of them were clustered together, breathing through their helmet respirators as they plunged groundward. The drop seemed to take forever. It was a very long time since any of them had jumped and, while they had all been trained for it, the hypnotic quality of the experience was still overpowering. In spite of the fact that they were all plunging into danger, into enemy territory, they were nevertheless exhilarated by the sensation of flight. They had to keep reminding themselves to keep an eye on Bojay, their drop leader, and not get lost in reverie. Soon, Bojay was giving them the signal to deploy their drouge chutes. Simultaneously, they released the small chutes that would deploy to slow them down before they could release their main chutes.

  Bojay scanned the ground below them, using his chin to adjust the magnification on his helmet. There it was, their target, to their far left at two o'clock from the point directly below them. Omega had brought them in perfectly. Bojay gave them a thumbs up signal, and one by one they cut loose their primary chutes and deployed their mains, which spread out like wings above them. Bojay went in first, in a long glide, and the others followed him. Now they could expect trouble. Their huge winglike chutes would soon be clearly visible from the ground and they would make very easy targets.

  Starbuck was thinking much the same thing as he entered his long glide to follow Cassiopeia.

  "Whatever you tin cans are doing down there," he said to himself, "just don't look up."

  As they neared the ground, a Cylon centurion did precisely that. Perhaps a shadow had alerted him, perhaps some Cylon intuition had warned him of their descent, but he looked up, spotted them and instantly raised his weapon to take aim. Apollo, anticipating just such a possibility, had drawn his laser as they neared the ground and he fired, dropping the Cylon where he stood. Two other Cylons saw their comrade fall, rushed to his side, looked up and quickly brought their weapons to bear, but Bojay was already gliding in behind them. Just as he was about to land, he fired and both Cylons fell. Bojay touched down, vulnerable while he still wore his chute. A Cylon came running out of the building just behind him, but Starbuck dropped him before he could give the alarm, alerting the others. The Cylon tumbled down the steps of the building, the metallic sounds of his armor on the stairs making a racket that seemed as loud as a red alert klaxon to the warriors.

  The team hurriedly gathered together, leaving their chutes. There was no point in trying to hide them, their presence would be discovered soon enough and speed was of the essence.

  "These munitions bunkers could give us a nice diversion while we try to penetrate their headquarters," said Apollo.

  "Shouldn't take much to send them skyhigh," agreed Boomer.

  Starbuck reached for the demolitions charges in his gear bag. "Let's get to it."

  They moved quickly, planting the charges and setting the timers while Cassiopeia and Bojay kept watch for Cylons. Starbuck set his final charge and checked his chronometer.

  "Okay, let's get out of here. Where to?"

  "This way," said Sheba.

  They moved off at a trot, keeping their weapons ready and hugging the sides of buildings wherever possi
ble.

  "Wait," said Apollo. Starbuck and Cassiopeia caught up with them. "Where's Bojay?"

  "I'll go back," said Starbuck.

  "You can't. Those charges will go off at any micron."

  Even as he spoke, Bojay rounded a corner, running to catch up with them. A Cylon moved in behind him.

  "Halt!"

  Bojay turned, drawing his weapon, but he was too late. The Cylon fired. Bojay was firing even as he fell. He killed the Cylon and started crawling away from the bunkers, desperately trying to get out of range of the blast that was to come. Sheba took off toward him at a dead run.

  "Sheba!" Apollo shouted. "Damn!" He took off after her.

  Sheba reached Bojay and bent down, trying to help him to his feet. The shot had grazed his hip, burning out a chunk of flesh and bone. The wound had partially cauterized itself, but blood was seeping from it.

  "Get out of here," said Bojay through clenched teeth.

  Cassiopeia ran to them to give what assistance she could.

  "The whole damn place is going to blow up," said Starbuck.

  "We can't worry about them," Boomer said. "We have to take out those ground batteries. Otherwise two battlestars are going to get cut to ribbons."

  Starbuck gritted his teeth. He hated to leave them behind, but each moment that they wasted increased the chances of the mission's failure. Boomer was right.