Battlestar Galactica-03-Resurrection Read online

  Cassie stood over Starbuck and took his hand in hers, as she had done countless times since she first fell in love with him all those yahren ago, as she had done so many times recently as she kept watch beside his med-berth.

  She realized she was angry with Apollo for getting Starbuck into the one bad scrape it didn't look as if he was going to escape; she was furious with the situation that had brought them to this. She cursed her helplessness and she cursed anyone who couldn't help Starbuck. She was a doctor who couldn't save the one she loved. What had she changed her entire life for, if she still had no control over it? And she was angry because blind, stumbling anger always attends loss, the unwanted guest that always arrives at the worst times.

  "You're not the only one in pain, Cassiopeia," Apollo said, gently. After a moment, he circled her and Starbuck's hands with his, but neither seemed to notice. "Don't give up." Even Apollo wasn't sure to whom he was speaking. All of them, he supposed, himself included.

  "I'm glad you're here for him, Cassie," Apollo said. "I know this has to be especially difficult for you, given your history with Starbuck."

  "I used to think there was nothing harder than watching someone you love fall in love with someone else," she answered, ruefully. "But, what did I know?" Cassopeia glanced back at Apollo, a sad smile on her full, lovely face.

  "You've suffered a lot of losses," she said. "I haven't had to deal with this before, on such a personal level. How do you get over it?"

  That was a good question. It was not that he didn't have emotions, it was just that he was quite good at ignoring them. He had dealt with first Zac's death and his mother's, and then Serina's and Adama's by walling his emotions into a neat little pen. Occasionally one would escape, and he would regret that, of course, because they always got hurt whenever they did. Apollo would recapture his stray feelings, cage them, and keep a tighter guard over them. But what worked for him was not necessarily a good road for Cassie to embark upon. One look at her face, open and oddly hopeful and full of pain told him that.

  "A day at a time," he said. "A tear at a time, but just know there will always be one more." Apollo looked at Starbuck, so still and too much like his dream, and said, "But, get over it? You never really get over it, you just… get by."

  Cassie studied him for a moment, surprised to hear Apollo admit how deeply hurt he had been, and still was. He was like a thermos—you could never tell, just by looking, whether his contents were hot or cold. For the moment, she didn't see Apollo as the supreme commander of the fleet, or the indestructible man she had always thought he was. For the moment, he was human, and vulnerable, and she, as well as anyone, knew how hard it was to be that. But he had done it for her. "It never bothered you, did it? What I used to do."

  "Socialator?" Apollo asked, and crinkled his nose. "It's not what you do that makes you who you are. I always thought you were a good person, Cassie, and I always will."

  "I think you are, too, Apollo," she said, and smiled again, but this time it was not so sad, just wistful.

  Apollo's comm-line, clipped to his belt, beeped with the same maddening calm as the monitors keeping track of Starbuck's vital signs, even though at this point they were somewhat less than vital. The commander unclipped the small, hand-held device and opened the frequency. "Commander Apollo," he said, tersely.

  "Apollo," Athena's voice greeted him across the open link. "President Tigh and I would like to see you on the bridge."

  He wanted to tell his sister to handle it, just handle whatever it was herself, but being commander was not about what Apollo wanted; it was about what had to be done, personal pain aside.

  "On my way," he managed, and flipped the voice-pad closed with a flick of his wrist. Apollo clipped the communicator to his belt once more and turned to go. He paused a moment in the doorway to look back where Cassiopeia still stood, Starbuck's hand in hers.

  "I'll let you know," Cassiopeia began, so softly at first that Apollo thought she was speaking to Starbuck; it was only when she looked up and met his eyes that he knew otherwise. "If there's any change, I'll let you know." Apollo managed a smile, but Cassie didn't see it; she had already turned back to Starbuck, studying the face she knew so well and feared she would soon never see again.

  If watching a loved one die is one of the hardest things one can do, how much harder is it, then, when one has still not made peace with one's feelings for the dying?

  Dalton sat alone in the hard, steel chair in the waiting hall just outside the med unit. She had been there since before Apollo arrived, and sat, unmoving, still. Hers was a complex relationship with her father, Starbuck, and now, faced with his imminent departure from this life, she felt… well, she was unsure of her feelings.

  She loved him, of course; he was her father, and Dalton knew Starbuck loved her and her mother, Cassiopea, the best he could. Dalton was coming to understand these things about her father; it was her own unresolved feelings of love and resentment she was finding so difficult to understand.

  And she wondered, not for the first time and not for the last, if Starbuck had marked her more than either of them could guess. Would she be as poor at giving and accepting love as her father? She loved Troy, she supposed, what was there not to love? Troy— Boxey, as he used to be called a long, long time ago—was her first great flame, the grace note that provided calm in the cacophony of her life, but just lately…

  Dalton glanced up, saw Apollo standing near her. She gave a start, fear scouring the inside of her brain, because the grim look on Apollo's face made her wonder if her father had slipped quietly away while she sat here, trying to unravel the scattered and tangled skein of her emotions.

  "Don't give up," he offered. It was the same advice he had given Cassie, but it seemed the only reasonable thing to say at such a time.

  It took a moment for the meaning of these words to penetrate Dalton's whirling thoughts, and she uttered a hitching, ragged, laughing sigh of relief.

  "Everything all right?" Apollo asked, and stepped a little closer. He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach when he realized just how much of Starbuck he could see in Dalton's features, and he wondered why he never noticed that before.

  "What a mess, huh?" she answered, but she wasn't sure if she meant Starbuck's condition, or her own. Both, probably.

  "If you need to talk…" Apollo began.

  She guessed she did, and if anyone knew Starbuck well, it was Apollo. But before she could speak, Sheba and Boomer appeared in the doorway. It was one thing to unburden herself to Apollo; she might have been able to do that—just—but the moment had passed now, and Dalton stood quickly, unable to look at Apollo or the others. "Maybe later," she said, and walked briskly from the waiting hall.

  I'll look after her, old friend, Apollo promised Starbuck in his thoughts, and knew when he did so that he had all but given up on Starbuck's recovering. Who was Apollo to tell Starbuck's family not to give up when he had already done so?

  Grief came at him from a thousand different directions at once, like a rabid lupus, cutting and tearing at him with a whirlwind of fang and claw. It was impossible to defend himself from the savaging he was suffering; all he could do was bear it with quiet grace and wait for it to get tired of hurting him. The Lords of Kobol must have been cruel, indeed, he thought, to keep visiting such ruin and misery upon their race. How much longer would they all have to be tested before the gods decided they were, at last, worthy of their loving kindness?

  "Apollo?" Sheba began.

  The commander squared his shoulders and set his jaw, and managed to say, "I'm needed on the bridge," without his voice cracking too much. More than that would have been impossible. He turned and walked from the waiting hall before anyone could ask anything else, into the main corridor beyond, where Gar'Tokk was patiently waiting.

  The Borellian Noman was perfect company for Apollo's present mood: Gar'Tokk would not ask the commander how he was, or if there was any sign of improvement in Starbuck. Gar'Tokk was simply present in Ap
ollo's life in the capacity of bodyguard, but even the best protector couldn't defend Adama's son from the ache in his soul, or the sharp, wicked blade of his own thoughts.

  The mood on the bridge was as somber as Apollo's own.

  Athena glanced up at Apollo's entrance, a questioning look on her face; it was the same look she always had whenever he visited Starbuck, and, as always, his grim expression answered her quite well. Anyone watching might have thought it was the telepathic link the children of Adama, pure-blooded Kobollians, shared, but it was nothing more prosaic than the secret shorthand language of siblings who had grown up so close together.

  "Glad you could take time away from your medical duties to join us, Commander," President Tigh said; it was Tigh's way of letting his old friend know he was displeased with Apollo's behavior. Apollo glanced from Athena to Tigh and back to Athena.

  She said, "We're a little… concerned… about the time you spend away from your post, when there is so much to be discussed, and decided."

  Apollo felt himself bristle at their rebukes, but maintained his calm. "I understand I've been a little distracted, lately," Apollo answered, spreading his hands expansively; "but I have full faith in your and President Tigh's abilities to lead in my times of absence from the bridge."

  "But the people," Tigh said, pulling himself up, "don't seem to share that faith in you, Commander."

  Apollo wiped his palm down his face; was this day really happening? He felt safer showing his pique than he did his pain, and felt his cheeks flushing red and hot. Athena interjected herself between the two men, and outlined the facts. It was nothing Apollo didn't already know, but it was a way of defusing a potentially volatile situation. No matter what, she would always rush to her brother's aid, even if she didn't always agree with him.

  "The entire fleet is running out of energy stores and other vital resources," she said; before Apollo could interrupt, she pressed on. "Seditionist and other adversarial factions aboard the fleet—those who never looked with much favor upon you, or me—have become more vocally strident than ever in their opposition to us. There have already been several outbreaks of violence over dwindling food supplies, but nothing that we haven't been able to contain… so far." She added this last with great emphasis.

  "The violence can only get worse," Tigh added, grimly. "By traveling such a long distance to Kirasolia, we risk losing more people to starvation, more ships to energy depletion."

  "I thought it was understood," Apollo responded. "We must buy ourselves more time. The Cylons know how badly damaged our fleet is. They'll expect us to find a planet on the holocube in closer proximity than Kirasolia. We cannot afford to make any more mistakes."

  "Yes, Apollo," Athena responded with a curt nod. "We cannot afford to make any more mistakes. We're already so desperately low on fuel and resources that if anything more goes wrong, we will not make it to Kirasolia, or any other planet. Ask yourself this, Apollo: Are you sure you want to risk losing everything by trying to second-guess the enemy?"

  "They're Cylons," Apollo answered. "They're predictable. 'Exterminate the humans.' There's not much margin for error in that edict, is there? They're hot on our trail and closing in on us." He looked from Tigh to Athena; he could tell, although they might not want to admit it, that they knew he was right. "We've seen firsthand the buildup of Cylon forces in these outlying quadrants. They shouldn't have much trouble finding us if we attempt to stay too long on any habitable planet. We'll be trapped then, no hope of defending ourselves or escape."

  "And what happens when we deplete our fuel stores questing after this fabled planet?" Tigh snapped. "What happens when half our fleet is dead in space? It seems to me you're doing the enemy's work for them, Commander."

  For a moment, Athena expected Apollo to boil over with anger, but he chuckled instead at the foolishness of the accusation. Tempers were short, he knew; it was not the time to engage in a shouting match, and besides, he knew Tigh's concerns about the welfare of the fleet were well-founded. He could hardly be angry with him for that, especially when Apollo, himself, had similar worries. The gods knew, it was indeed a possibility the fuel reserves would exhaust themselves before the wanderers reached Kirasolia. That was logic talking, but Apollo's focus was on something that had little to do with that concrete mindset: he had faith, and his faith told him his way was the correct path. Logic was hard to refute, but faith was harder still to argue with.

  "And let us suppose we do reach Kirasolia," Tigh allowed. "Won't the Cylons simply find us there? How will Kirasolia be any more defensible than the nearest habitable planet?"

  Apollo smiled crookedly; he didn't realize it, but it was the same rogue's smile he'd seen Starbuck flash countless times before. They were more alike than he knew. "We will be on Kirasolia only long enough to take on fresh supplies and building materials to repair the damage to our ships," he said.

  Tigh looked astonished. Apollo's plan seemed madder by the moment. "We'll have to remain in deep space while we refurbish our fleet," Apollo said. "That will make us more difficult to locate, buy us more time to make our repairs and augment our fighter fleet and weapons."

  Before Tigh could respond, the communications screen linking the bridges of the battlestars came to life, and, a moment later, the stern, no-nonsense face of Commander Cain filled the screen. The man was intimidating enough at normal size; seeing his grim features magnified was ten times more imposing.

  Gar'Tokk, who had entered the bridge with Apollo but had remained a discreet distance from the proceedings, folded his sinewy arms across his massive chest. Humans had no idea how entertaining they were to the Borellian Nomen.

  Cain did not waste time on small-talk or pleasantries, but cut straight to the heart of the issue. "Our initial estimate of the damage we suffered from the Chitain was optimistic," he said. Optimistic was not a word Apollo would have associated with Commander Cain. "Recent analyses indicate the damage done to the Pegasus, Daedelus, and several other fleet ships, was much more extensive. Many of our ships are operating on half- or emergency-power reserves. Much of that power is being diverted to keep the life support systems functioning. Without the Agro ship and additional medical facilities, we will not be able to continue feeding and tending to the needs of such a large number of wounded civilian and military personnel."

  Apollo stepped forward to address Cain's concerns, but it felt to him as if he had simply opened himself to the commander's critical scrutiny. "You will have to tend to these matters as best you can, Commander Cain," he said. "We are hopeful that Kirasolia will fulfill many, if not all, of our needs, but the fleet will have to return to deep space, even if the planet turns out to be habitable."

  Cain said nothing for a long time. He was trying to unnerve Apollo with his glowering silence, but Apollo met his unwavering gaze with one of his own.

  "The strategies you follow are deeply flawed, Apollo," Cain said at last. Apollo noticed Cain did not do him the courtesy of addressing him as Commander Apollo, as if the older man did not feel Apollo was worthy of that post. Worse, Cain sometimes made Apollo feel as if he were not worthy of that title. "You will soon have a mutiny on your hands if you do not start listening to my counsel. If we'd had a few more centons before we left Poseidon, we could have taken on food and fuel reserves, tended to our wounded and repaired our ships. This would have provided the opportunity for the fleet to travel a longer distance through space and explore planets not on the holocube, so the Cylons would have an almost impossible task of finding us. You have no foresight, boy.

  "You ignored my advice then and insisted we leave for Kirasolia immediately. And now look at the hell we're in because of that. Because of you."

  Gar'Tokk, his back to the great screen holding Cain's image, pulled a sour face that only Apollo could see.

  "Now who's ignoring facts, Commander?" Apollo responded. "You seem to have conveniently forgotten the food on Poseidon was creating genetic mutations. That is not a risk I was willing to allow my fleet
to take. And with the Cylons knowing our whereabouts, we could not afford to chance them mounting a major attack against us while our fleet was so vulnerable."

  Apollo did not need the giant screen to magnify the contempt Cain felt for him; it was big enough already. "I'm beginning to wonder if you're a coward, Apollo," he said, and for the first time since this heated discussion began, Cain actually smiled. "With the Galactica, Pegasus, Daeddus, and Poseidon's newly built warships, we could have easily fought off any Cylon challenge until we were sufficiently prepared to leave, instead of slinking away like whipped curs." He almost spat this last word. "You're very good at running from fights, Apollo, but are you any good at making the hard choices? Can you face the hard truths? Sometimes, people have to die. You can't save everyone. There are going to be losses; you have to decide if they are losses you can live with."

  Apollo's hands fisted at his sides.

  "Your strategies may differ," Athena said, stepping closer to the screen, "but Commander Apollo is not a coward."

  Cain chuckled, his smile becoming a smirk. "Allowing a woman to fight your battles, Apollo? That only proves my point."

  "No one fights my battles, Commander," Apollo said, forcing himself to remain calm, although he was seriously beginning to wonder why he was making the effort. "Athena, stay out of this."

  "It would have taken significant time for the Cylons to arrive in sufficient strength to be a real threat to us on Poseidon," Cain continued, his voice growing more agitated. "And I believe your arrival on Poseidon may well have been the very thing that alerted the Cylons to our whereabouts and robbed us of the opportunity to go on the defensive for the first time in twenty yahren."

  "The Cylons already knew about you," Apollo said, his own voice becoming more strident. "It would only have been a matter of time before they attacked you in force and annihilated your entire fleet."

  Cain started to respond, but Apollo would not allow him the opportunity. "I am supreme commander of this fleet, and under military law, my orders will be followed implicitly."