Battlestar Galactica 13 - Apollo's War Read online

  A new BATTLESTAR GALACTICA adventure!

  The beautiful planet Yevra is being ravaged

  by a decades-old conflict, a war that has

  gone on so long no one can remember its cause.

  Lured to the planet by the promise of provisions

  for the Galactica fleet, Apollo, Croft, and

  Sheba are captured. Quickly forged into a

  fighting unit, they are cannon-fodder in

  a war not their own. Apollo struggles to keep

  his comrades alive in the heat of battle—

  and wonders if he will ever see

  Battlestar Galactica again!

  "YOU ARE ALL VOLUNTEERS

  IN THE ARMY OF THE

  RIGHTFUL DESTINY.

  First you will be outfitted in proper uniform, be issued weapons, given your training assignments, and be initiated into basic training."

  "Told you," Croft muttered out the side of his mouth.

  "Give up all your scumlike cowardly instincts. You are now warriors and will behave like warriors. Anything less will be considered treason. Some of you have obviously had experience in warfare. Your puny skills may do you some good in survival, but you must adopt our ways of combat. And you will.

  "You will remember that this is war! This is war! Every fiber of your being, every muscle in your body, every synapse in your brain will now be devoted to war!"

  Berkley Battlestar Galactica Books

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 2: THE CYLON DEATH MACHINE

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 3: THE TOMBS OF KOBOL

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 4: THE YOUNG WARRIORS

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 5: GALACTICA DISCOVERS EARTH

  by Glen A. Larson and Michael Resnick

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 6: THE LIVING LEGEND

  by Glen A. Larson and Nicholas Yermakov

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 7: WAR OF THE GODS

  by Glen A. Larson and Nicholas Yermakov

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 8: GREETINGS FROM EARTH

  by Glen A. Larson and Ron Goulart

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 9: EXPERIMENT IN TERRA

  by Glen A. Larson and Ron Goulart

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 10: THE LONG PATROL

  by Glen A. Larson and Ron Goulart

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 11: THE NIGHTMARE MACHINE

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 12: "DIE, CHAMELEON!"

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 13: APOLLO'S WAR

  by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston

  BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 13:

  APOLLO'S WAR

  A Berkley Book / published with

  MCA PUBLISHING, a Division of MCA Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley edition / January 1987

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1987 by MCA PUBLISHING,

  a Division of MCA Inc.

  Cover illustration by James Warhola.

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part,

  by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.

  For information addresss: MCA PUBLISHING,

  a Division of MCA Inc.,

  100 Universal City Plaza,

  Universal City, California 91608.

  ISBN: 0-425-09476-6

  A BERKELY BOOK ® TM 757,375

  Berkley Books are published by Berkley Publishing Corporation,

  200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

  The name "Berkley" and the stylized "B" with design

  are trademarks belonging to Berkley Publishing Corporation

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  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

  To Jason

  And to Robert Fox, "Ace of Aces,"

  And the Indomitable Members of

  the Little Ferry "Flying Foxes" Squadron

  CHAPTER ONE

  Like all insects of Yevra, the rock beetles were a hardy species whose lineage went back more generations than any other kind of living creature on the planet. There had even been rock beetles in the prehistory of Yevra, tiny early versions of the insect that had, even then, blended in with their geological surroundings. Later, when other primitive creatures roamed the planet's surfaces, rock beetles had grown larger and more intelligent. They had begun to communicate in simple ways, using their antennae for signals, discovering a kind of rock-bound dance that allowed them to display the mating urge, dispatching from glands a pheromonal secretion that located objects for their mating urge, receiving sound vibrations through the tiny spines, or sensilla, upon their bodies. The present-day Yevran rock beetle is often larger than an average human foot. Fortunately, for them and anyone observing them, their chameleonic ability to change the surface of their bodies to match the coloring of rocks made them virtually invisible. The only inhabitants of Yevra who knew of the whereabouts of an individual rock beetle were other rock beetles.

  The gray-speckled one that now perched on a high gray speckled rock was unmoving, intent on receiving the information that came through the air from others of his species. Modern-day rock beetles communicated in a language of intricate sounds created by chewing motions in their crooked mouths and by the tapping of their stiff wings against each other. The wings were rarely used for flying and, anyway, a rock beetle could only fly a short distance at best. Most stayed in one small area during their lives, moving around only when they needed to feast on the smaller insects beneath the rocks. Sounds were received on mechanoreceptors, touch cells containing thin tactile hairs which responded to the sound and sent messages by nerve impulses to the brain. Except for messages about food and mating, most communication among the rock beetles dealt with significant changes in their environment.

  Such a change had just been witnessed by the gray-speckled rock beetle. Coordinating the varied images in his multifaceted compound eyes, he detected a new presence in the sky above him. It was either a three-sectioned being or perhaps three very large birds. He sent the message out, and it was carried quickly along the network of individual rock beetles scattered among many rocks. Quick analyses were made and it was agreed that it must either be a trio of birds or some new kind of creature.

  The speckled beetle watched the oddity above him grow even larger. He could see now that it was indeed three separate entities and he started that information out on its path along the network. The three things flew over the speckled beetle, made long sweeping turns and quickly lowered themselves to the ground. A breeze seemed to come out of nowhere and stir up dust swirl
s as they landed. They came to a stop. The beetle waited for them to start walking along, searching for whatever had brought them down from the skies. And then, what appeared to be the eyes of the new creatures split open with a sharp crackling sound. Before the beetle could send this new occurrence along the network, smaller creatures emerged from the new opening. The beetle recognized at once that these newcomers looked like other creatures which he'd seen pass by his rock at rare times—humanoid creatures. Sunlight reflected off large objects which they held in their hands.

  Apollo held his flight helmet in his hand as he stepped out of his Viper. As soon as he hit ground, he tossed it back into the cockpit. Sheba and Croft stepped onto Yevran ground suspiciously. Croft wrinkled his nose in distaste.

  "You absolutely sure this air is breathable, Apollo?" he said. His craggy face was fixed in that almost permanent look of cynicism that had become his trademark. The look, along with the aggressive way he held himself, tended to make people steer clear of him when he was in a bad mood. He was often in a bad mood.

  Apollo's look was a definite contrast to Croft's. Even when he was serious or troubled, kindness never left his clear blue eyes. Those who knew him well realized that, if prodded, he could become quite fierce with fury, but he did not, like Croft, wear his anger like a battle jacket.

  "According to the atmospheric analyzer," Apollo informed Croft, "this planet checks out as .82 equivalent of our air, with no poison gases or—"

  "Okay, okay, I get the point. Analyzer doesn't analyze how much a place stinks, I guess. This reminds me of dry rot in a detox chamber."

  Sheba, getting a clear sensory memory of the odors inside a detox chamber, frowned and shuddered. With her helmet off, her long dark-brown hair draped onto the shoulders of her flight jacket and seemed to emphasize her body's long and thin lines.

  "Let's look around," Apollo said.

  "From what I saw coming in, what we see here is just like the rest of the damn place," Croft said.

  "Don't you ever get optimistic, Croft?" Sheba asked as they began their slow and careful exploration of the immediate area.

  "Not if I can help it. Optimism means danger, far as I'm concerned."

  Sheba's natural wide-eyed look became even wider as she gave Croft a puzzled look.

  "You'll have to run that by me again," she said.

  After making sure that nothing repulsive or malevolent cluttered the surface of a high nearby rock, Croft sat on it. As it happened, he nearly squashed the gray-speckled rock beetle who had been tracking the movement of the three warriors from the Battlestar Galactica. The beetle scurried out of the way, into a niche in the rock. Croft did not detect its movement.

  "I look at it this way," he said. "See, if I'm optimistic about convincing you to make love to me, I get disappointed and will probably make mistakes. Pessimism tells me my chances are low. Makes me try harder. Makes the game more interesting."

  Sheba smiled. Croft noted that, with her large eyes and thin wide mouth, both emphasized by her smile, Sheba sometimes looked strange to him. Not even pretty. Yet, he dreamed about her almost every night. He often wondered why he had this preoccupation with a female he could not win. Then she would turn a certain way and look so lovely he lost his breath and couldn't stand to look at her.

  "Either way, optimism, pessimism, you don't get me."

  Her words hurt him more than he showed, but he kept his voice carefully cynical: "Don't be so sure of that, lovely. I can see how I'm breaking down your resistance centon by centon."

  He saddened as he saw Sheba glance longingly toward Apollo. The woman's interest clearly lay in that direction, just like that of most of the available women on the Galactica. Apollo, with his sharply defined good looks and his image as a hero, was a real heartthrob all right. A real heartbreaker, too, who didn't even seem to notice the sad loving glances of the women he passed. Since the death of his mate, Serina, not long after they had been sealed in a wedding ceremony, Apollo's attentions to the Galactican women had been rare. Croft had heard a rumor that Sheba and Apollo had been an item for a brief time, but he'd never been able to verify it.

  Apollo, who had been exploring a nearby area, came back to Croft and Sheba.

  "Can we take a look around now?" he asked, an edge of sarcasm in his voice. "That is, if you two have finished your discussion."

  Croft hated the way Apollo's words brought a miserable look to Sheba's face, and he wanted to tell him off and pop him one.

  "Don't be touchy, Captain," Croft said.

  The slight narrowing of his eyelids might not have been recognized as a wince except by people who knew Apollo. Croft spotted the eyelid movement easily, and he smiled. He usually called Apollo "Captain" just to annoy him. Besides, it pointed up the odd discrepancy in their ranks. As a commander, Croft should have outranked Apollo, but both men knew that the commandership was only honorary, an old rank reinstated by Commander Adama merely to reward Croft for his heroism in the mission to destroy the massive laser cannon on the ice planet Tairac. Before that, he'd been a convict on the fleet's prison ship, the grid barge. After he'd been restored to rank, Croft had been given the helm of the grid barge, a position he hated. He took every opportunity to get away from the barge and on patrols, even routine patrols like this one. But Apollo was in charge, on this mission and on any other he took out. Croft couldn't pull rank because this captain was Commander Adama's son, the wedge that gave him all the power he needed. Power he took, in spite of his protests to the contrary.

  The rock beetle kept watch on the three Galactican warriors exploring the immediate area. When they passed out of his vision, he heard more about their wanderings through the communication network of fellow beetles. The dark brown beetle that now watched them was on a rock the same color. From his insect point of view the humans were enormous. As they went by him, he transmitted his vision of them back to the gray-speckled rock beetle.

  Sheba stopped to scan the horizon.

  "Doesn't look too promising, this place, does it?" she said.

  "Nope," Apollo answered. "But the situation's too crucial. We have to check every planet within range of the fleet."

  "While using up fuel as we do so," Croft commented. "Not a practical solution."

  "But the only solution, Croft."

  "Aye, aye, Captain."

  The overall fuel and supply situation for the Galactica and the ragtag fleet had recently become critical. The ships had been traveling a long while without discovering any new places to refuel and restock. Throughout the fleet, fuel levels were generally low, without sufficient reserve. Some of the ships were being piggybacked, a fleet term describing the pulling along of one ship by another, more powerful one. Supplies were being severely rationed.

  When Apollo, Croft and Sheba had left, a potent political situation aboard the Galactica itself had been growing. Crews from other ships had sent representatives to the Council of Twelve meeting on the Galactica to complain about inequities. They claimed that the people of the command ship had too many privileges, that they were somehow excused from the deprivations experienced by others. There was an iota of truth in the belief, but it had nothing to do with elite privileges. Commander Adama had indeed ordered extra rations for any pilots going out on patrol, but no other officers received any such advantages. The pilots had earned these privileges because they were doing the harrowing and exhausting job of searching one barren planet after another for fuel or supplies. Before Apollo's patrol had left the ship, there had been news that a patrol led by Lieutenant Starbuck had landed on a planet that looked promising. However, Apollo's patrol, on a strict schedule, had not been able to hang around the ship to hear the results of Starbuck's mission.

  "Did you broadcast back our coordinates to the Galactica, Croft?" Apollo asked.

  "Tried."

  Apollo whirled around, irritated by Croft's lackadaisical reply.

  "What do you mean, tried?"

  "Your grasp of language failing, Captain? I said I tr
ied. We're out of immediate range of the coded communication channels, and Adama specifically ordered us not to—"

  "Yes, I see. But they'll be able to track us if they have to, based on our last reported coordinates."

  "Perhaps."

  Apollo turned away, in order to ignore Croft's mild sneer. The antagonism between him and Croft had increased recently. There had been a brief period when they had almost approached friendship, after they had worked and fought together closely to free the enslaved civilization on a planet whose alien name translated as "The Joyful Land." A camaraderie had developed between them there that hadn't been duplicated on any task or mission they had performed together since their return to the fleet. Croft seemed to thrive on their rivalry, but Apollo hated it. He had never liked to be at odds with any other human being, and especially those he had to work with.

  Neither man had been originally scheduled for this mission. Croft had volunteered when Lieutenant Jolly became ill, and Apollo had replaced the exhausted Ensign Greenbean. Doctor Salik had ordered bedrest for Greenbean. Apollo didn't mind going out. Since he had become flight coordinator for the Galactica, he had had fewer opportunities to fly the routine patrols. He liked the patrols, or any excuse to sail through space in his swift Viper. Croft resented Apollo's appointment as flight coordinator. He saw it as another instance of command nepotism, and he had sarcastically referred to it a couple of times during the present mission.

  After they had traveled some distance, seeing nothing but more barren landscape, Croft commented: "I think we can pass on this godforsaken place."

  "I'm inclined to agree. Let's just check over this next rise, then go back."

  "Right beside you."

  The three warriors strode forward. As they came to the top of a hill, Apollo felt a wave go through his body. It seemed like an electrical charge or an energy impulse, but it had passed through too quickly for him to interpret it. Ahead of him some rocks seemed to glow. Could the wave have come from these new rocks? Why was he beginning to feel dizzy?