"Richard Hatch - Battlestar Galactica 02 - Warhawk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hatch Richard)

"Then he kills me," Apollo replied. "Athena is fully capable of
commanding this fleet. We all know that."

"That's hardly the point!" Troy shouted.

Apollo sighed and stepped around his son, continued walking toward
the amphitheater with Star buck just behind him.

"Starbuck!" Troy snapped. "You talk to him. You're his best friend,
you've got to tell him how crazy this is."

With a small chuckle, Starbuck stopped in his tracks. Apollo kept
walking. It was too late for him to change his mind. The repercussions
would be swift and debilitating. Word of the death match had yet to reach
the rest of the fleet, but if he backed out, word of his cowardice most
certainly would. While most would think him a fool for agreeing to it in
the first place, those very same people would be the first to condemn him
should he withdraw.

Troy kept pace with Apollo, glancing over his shoulder at Starbuck.
Finally, curiosity won out and Apollo turned to see what had caused
Starbuck to pause.

Starbuck stood a few metrons back in the corridor, leaning against the
saligium wall with a fumarello clenched firmly between his teeth. He lit a
match and ignited the end of the smoke. Apollo raised an eyebrow.

"What are you waiting for, Captain?" he asked.
 "The kid's right, Commander," Starbuck replied.

Any shadow of amusement disappeared from Starbuck's face at that
moment. The maverick, the joker, the charmer, the gamblerтАФhe was all of
those things, but he was also the best pilot in the fleet and the best friend
of its commander. And he looked every centimetron the part. Until half a
yahren earlier, when what remained of the human raceтАФin the form of the
Colonial fleetтАФhad come into contact with Cylons once more after a six
yahren break, Starbuck had grown a little soft around the middle.

There was nothing soft about him anymore. Except, Apollo thought, for
the way he remained unable to decide between two women who loved him,
in spite of the tension it often created. Starbuck was lean and fit, an
exemplary Warrior, with only the barest hint of white beginning to show
in his light brown hair. The old charm was still there, but the twinkle in
his eye was informed by a new wisdom that had come to him with the
passing yahren.

Apollo had always respected him, but not always taken what Starbuck
said seriously. That had changed.

"I'm sorry," Apollo said, frowning. "What do you mean, he's right? You