CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

It was all Athena could do to keep from watching the rescue attempt of Apollo and Croft. Instead, she kept her attention on the controls, carefully timing her evasive maneuvers each time the ghost ship approached. It seemed that each escape from it was narrower than the one before. She could hardly believe she’d heard right when an officer reported that Croft had jumped from the rope and through the open ghost-ship hatchway. She now understood completely why the computer had kicked back Croft’s name during the search for personnel. She was also glad that Apollo had worked himself onto the mission roster. There were a lot of good pilots in the Galactica squadrons, but with the possible exceptions of Starbuck and Boomer, only Apollo could have flown a strange ship with that much accuracy and precision. Well, as far as precision flying went, she wasn’t doing too bad herself, she thought, as she plunged the shuttle downward to evade another diving attack.

“What’s happening out there?” she asked the crew member who was keeping track.

“Nothing. No, wait. Something. The guy just made some gesture out that hole. Apollo’s bringing his ship closer, the rope’s right next to the hole. The guy’s coming out. He’s carrying something, like a big pack. It’s Boxey, I think, it looks like Boxey, and they’re both on the rope now, clinging to it.”

“Confirm that it is Boxey, please.”

The crewman squinted at a picture on the monitor, then shouted joyously:

“Confirmed! It’s Boxey, all right!”

“How far are they away from the ghost ship?”

“Not far. No, wait. Apollo’s ship is slowly veering to port. He’s carrying them away.”

“Are they out of range of any explosion?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Confirm they are out of range.”

The crewman paused before answering.

“Out of range. Confirmed.”

“Escort leader!”

The voice of the escort officer came over the commline:

“Yes, Ensign Athena?”

“Destroy that ghost ship. And the guidance ship, too. Both of them. Immediately.”

She watched the ghost ship explode with great pleasure. Other vipers from the escort chased after the guidance ship, which now dived toward the ground. A shot from one of the vipers crossed the Cylon ship highside, and it began to wobble. Incredibly, the Cylon pilot was able to keep it steady for a crash landing on the Cylon surface. A clear view of the Cylon ship became lost in the swirling snow created by the crash landing.

In the distance Athena could see Apollo descending his ship carefully, delicately, toward the airfield, Croft and Boxey hanging from the rope. The rope seemed to just touch the ground when Croft, holding onto Boxey, jumped off and went into a gentle roll along the ground. After a moment of lying there, both Croft and Boxey stood up and shook themselves off. Boxey leaped up at Croft’s chest and hugged him. Even from this height, it looked to Athena as if Croft didn’t mind.

An aide distracted Athena’s attention from the events below by telling her that Commander Adama was on the commline and wanted to talk to her.

“Yes, Commander.”

“I just wanted to tell you—good work. We were… impressed with the flying skills of you and Captain Apollo.”

“Yes, sir. I’m taking the rescue unit in now for a landing.”

“You’ll have to make it quick. The Cylon pursuit force is still on our tail, and we won’t be able to keep them at a distance for long.”

Athena resisted smiling until the image of her father had faded from the screen. The guarded praise he’d given her had been worth all the medals in the fleet.

“Prepare to land,” she ordered her crew.

Beside the rescue shuttle, Ravashol gripped Apollo’s shoulders and said his farewells.

“Peace be with you, Apollo. May you reach your destination.”

“Peace be with you, father-creator,” Apollo replied.

Apollo and Ser 5-9 embraced.

“And thank you and your people for your help,” Apollo said. “If you and Tenna had not led the way up Hekla, I don’t—say, where is Tenna? They were all here a few moments ago.”

Ser 5-9 hesitated before answering:

“I believe they went into the shuttle to say good-bye to your Lieutenant Starbuck.”

“I should have known. Starbuck!”

Inside the ship, Starbuck was busily bestowing kisses on three Tennas, each one in turn. They all seemed to be enjoying the ritual immensely.

“Time to go, Lieutenant,” Apollo said, trying to keep from laughing.

Starbuck appeared reluctant. He sidled conspiratorially over to Apollo and whispered:

“Can’t they come with us? There’re only three of them, and—”

“No, Lieutenant. We can’t interfere with these people any more than we already have.”

“It hasn’t been such a bad interference,” one of the Tennas said.

Apollo’s observation to Ravashol had been more correct than he’d even suspected; the clones were becoming more and more human.

“Captain,” Starbuck urged, “this is a chance in a lifetime. Three versions of the same beautiful woman. Can you imagine?”

“Only too well can I imagine. Another time, Starbuck.”

“But, Captain…”

“I’m sorry, Starbuck. Good-bye, each of you, and thank you. We are all in your debt.”

“I just wanted to pay off some interest,” Starbuck muttered; then he said in a way that took in all three women: “Good-bye, Tenna.”

All three bade him farewell together, an identical sadness in their eyes.

As Starbuck watched them disembark, Boomer patted his shoulder and said:

“Win one, you lose one.”

“I just lost all three,” Starbuck said.

He turned and saw Athena glaring at him from the entranceway to the pilot compartment.

“I think I’m on a real losing streak,” he mumbled to Boomer; then he stepped forward, saying, “Athena, we were all just friends. Really.”

She continued to stare daggers at him.

“By the way,” he said, in his best disarming fashion, “I heard you flew the pants off this rig.”

Her mouth made a nervous movement at the corners, as if it very much wanted to smile.

“But I missed it. Tell me about it, huh?”

She said nothing, but nodded toward the cockpit of the shuttle. He followed her in, and took the copilot seat as she began to run an equipment check preparatory to launch.

For the first time in recent memory, Imperious Leader felt stunned. He had had to verify the report three times with his executive officers. The laser gun had been destroyed. Contact with First Centurion Vulpa and his garrison had been lost—apparently the communication systems there had been destroyed along with the cannon.

Some human ships had been detected leaving the ice planet. Then, abruptly, the human fleet itself had escaped. None of his officers knew how, although they suspected the Galactica had successfully created another camouflage force field. None of his officers knew where they had escaped to.

The trap should have worked. It was as if it had been sprung and had captured its quarry, and still the humans had found some way to wriggle out.

He came out of his reverie to find the Starbuck simulacrum looking at him and smiling.

“How did they escape?” Imperious Leader asked the Starbuck.

“Escape?” it answered. “That’s just so much bilgewater, bug-eyes. We beat you, that’s all. We beat you again. And we’re going to keep on—”

Imperious Leader leaped at the Starbuck, intending to strangle it. His hands went right through the Starbuck’s neck, and did not alter one degree of its smile. With one gigantic effort, Imperious Leader pushed the entire simulator off his pedestal. It crashed to the floor of the chamber. Sparks flew in all directions. For a moment, the Starbuck stood at the center of the wreckage, then suddenly flickered out.