CHAPTER FIVE

Apollo could almost feel the Galactica’s motionlessness, as if the ship had miraculously managed to brake to a complete stop, instead of just drifting at a point out of the laser cannon’s range.

He made his knock on Adama’s cabin door sound firm and determined. A touch on Adama’s desk panel made the door slide open. Adama looked up, smiled.

“Come in, Apollo. You look troubled.”

“Not troubled. Just angry.”

Adama’s eyes narrowed, and the smile disappeared.

“Go on,” he said to his son.

“The computer search for members of the landing party…”

“What about it?”

“It was influenced. Contrived.”

A flicker of anger in Adama’s eyes as he said:

“That’s a serious charge.”

He was offering Apollo a chance to retreat. Apollo was not going to take it.

“I’m aware of that,” Apollo said. “It is a serious charge.” He struggled to keep his voice level. “You don’t want me to go, do you?”

Adama swung his chair away from the desk, gave Apollo a stare that would have withered the average Galactican officer, and said:

“You think I’d spare a member of my own family?”

Apollo became aware that the recording device above the desk was now on, had been operative perhaps since he had made his charge. He spoke slowly, measuring his words:

“I’m suggesting the selection was biased, or I would have been chosen. I’m qualified in survival techniques. I’m single. I have the correct endurance rating, not only correct but the highest among Galactica’s personnel, officer and enlisted man. I also have the weapons capability, command factor, the ability to—”

“But,” Adama interrupted, “you lack experience in subzero temperatures.”

Apollo was prepared for this objection.

“None of our warriors have such training,” he said.

Adama swung his chair back toward the desk.

“If the computer passed you over, it did so for a reason.”

Apollo was equally prepared for this observation, and struggling to keep his voice official and controlled, he said:

“And I know exactly what that reason is. You are the sole judge of who is expendable and who isn’t. And, according to Colonel Tigh, I’m rated as nonexpendable.”

Adama sighed.

“You are the highest-rated combat experienced commander we have. It’s imperative that we conserve—”

“Are you sure your feelings are not obscuring your objective judgment on this one, sir?”

Apollo moved toward his father. Adama remained silent, staring sightlessly at the surface of his desk.

“Don’t you think I understand?” Apollo said, his voice gentler now. “You’ve lost so many members of the family. Zac. Mother…”

Both of them now lapsed into silence. Obviously his father was remembering the same scenes that were obsessing Apollo. Zac being blown out of the skies by the Cylons. He and his father returning to Caprica to realize that Ila, too, was dead. The feelings these memories engendered could not be adequately spoken, even between father and son. Adama rubbed his eyes as if to remove the memories and said to Apollo:

“Don’t ask me to—I won’t reprogram the search.”

“You don’t have to. Just expand the party by one.”

“Apollo, I—”

“If, as you said, I am your highest-rated commander, you need me on this mission. What difference does my expendability or lack of it make when you know we’re going up against that death weapon? If this mission fails, we’re all doomed, all due to be blasted to pieces. And you know it!”

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, each trying to cling to his own stubbornness. But finally Adama, assuming his command voice, relented.

“Tell Colonel Tigh it is so ordered,” he said, and started to swing his chair back to his desk. Before he could do so, Apollo touched his hand, and returned his cold look with an affectionate one. A hint of a warming effect in the commander’s steel-blue eyes appeared briefly. It was enough for Apollo. He nodded and then strode quickly out of the command cabin.

Athena, who’d been informed by Apollo of his plan to join the mission and had advised him against confronting their father, felt angry when she pulled out the new mission list from the computer and saw her brother’s name added to it. She considered going to her father to complain, but knew that would do no good. Adama wouldn’t appreciate being besieged by both his children arguing opposite sides of an issue. And, worse, now it was impossible for her to put in the request that she become a substitute on the mission—to replace the medic, Leda, who had expressed so much reluctance to join the expeditionary team…

Starbuck suddenly confronted her, his eyes fixed on the computer sheet she was holding.

“Is that the revised list for the mission?” he asked.

“Yes. Apollo is on it. I wanted to be on it, but the computers chose this… this Leda. She’s a convict!”

“Hate to tell you, but they’re all convicts, darling. Feel lucky you’re not on the list. I’m just praying that Apollo makes it back intact. Looks to me like a one-way voyage. Sure glad Boomer and I didn’t make it.”

Starbuck could always get a rise out of Athena, and he was especially successful with his last little aside.

“Starbuck,” Athena whispered angrily. “That’s the side of you I can never understand, or accept. One moment you’re offering Blue Squadron for a daredevil foolish assault, the next you’re oozing about how glad you are to be off the mission. These people have a chance to save the entire fleet, I’d give my eyeteeth to—”

“Good for them. I say good for them, and more power forever. I personally have a very dangerous card game coming up. Here, let me have that readout. I’ll take it to Commander Adama.”

She looked at him puzzledly. What was he up to now?

“Look,” he urged, “I have to be at the briefing anyway. I’m in charge of the prisoner detail until they accept the mission.”

She hesitated. It was always best to hesitate when Starbuck volunteered for anything, large or small. He smiled at her, and she handed him the list.

“Hang around that briefing room as long as you can,” she said. “Maybe a little bravery will rub off.”

It was a cheap shot, she knew, especially when directed at a warrior whose battle record was so distinguished. She just wanted him to act like the hero he was, a role he seemed to resist with relish. Except under battle conditions.

No, she thought as she watched him walk briskly away from her, I shouldn’t’ve said that. Should not have angered him. Now we’re on the outs again! When will I ever learn?