01 - Battlestar Galactica Read Online Free Page A

last remaining chair at the card table and sat down
across the table from Lieutenant Kara Thrace—Starbuck, to the flight group.
“Uh-oh,” she muttered, without looking up. Whether she was talking about his
arrival or the cards she was holding, he couldn’t tell for sure. He’d find out; an opportunity to taunt
Kara Thrace was something he could never resist.
    “I’m in,” said Tigh, and waited while Thrace dealt him a hand of cards.
    “Here we go.” That was from Helo, on his immediate left. Helo was the flight
officer for the Raptor pilot sitting to his immediate left—Sharon
Valerii, better known as Boomer.
    Lieutenant Thrace’s short blonde hair came just over her ears and eyebrows.
She cultivated a tough-guy look, and was cockily smoking a cigar. She aimed it
at Helo and said, “If you’re gonna play with the big dogs—” She pointed to the
table. Helo dropped his chips onto the pile.
    “No fair,” complained Boomer, squinting at her cards. Not such a good hand,
maybe.
    Colonel Tigh tuned out the banter while he examined his cards. Finally he
looked up, as Thrace said with a laugh, “Ohhh, Helo—when are you gonna learn? First you’re flying with crooks, and then— ow!” —Boomer had just
smacked her on the arm—“and then you’re bettin’ against Starbuck!”
    Tigh let out a snort. “Starbuck. Now there’s a call sign. Star-buck” —he
gave a string of chicken sounds— “buck-buck-buck-buck-buck! Where’d you
get that nickname, anyway? Was that before you were thrown in the brig as
a cadet for drunk and disorderly, or after?” He glanced over his cards,
not meeting Thrace’s eyes.
    Unperturbed, Thrace leaned back and blew a stream of smoke from her cigar.
“After,” she said smugly.
    “After,” he echoed, searching for a snappy comeback but not finding one.
“That’s right it was… after.”
    “I’m in.” Helo tossed in some more chips. “Bet’s to you, XO.”
    Brought back to the game by the sound of the chips, Tigh muttered, “I’m in,”
and followed Helo’s chips with a few of his own.
    Lieutenant Thrace had never dropped her gaze from him. “How’s the wife?” she
asked, in slow, measured tones.
    He stiffened, words lodging in his throat. God, no wonder he hated her.
Anger, and the whiskey, made his skin burn—but he was damned if he was going to
rise to the bait. Around him, the other players continued their banter,
oblivious to the power struggle that had just begun. He barely heard them…
    “…that pyramid game on Geminon?”
    Arrogant bitch. Yeah, his wife was probably banging some other man right now.
Wherever she was.
    “What were you doing on…?”
    He hadn’t spoken to her in the last month, and had no reason to think he’d
speak to her in the next.
    “…girl there I know.”
    “What girl don’t you…?”
    “The wife is just fine,” Tigh said evenly.
    Lieutenant Thrace grinned and sipped from her mug. “Talk to her lately?”
    Tigh knitted his brow and scowled at his cards, pretending he hadn’t heard.
He raised his coffee cup to his lips, with an effort mastering the slight
trembling in his hand. The whiskey burned as he swallowed.
    Lieutenant Thrace had turned back to the game. “All right. Thirty for me”—she
threw in more chips—“and it looks like I’ll have to bring this lovely little game to a close, because”—she slapped her cards down onto the table— “full
colors! Ha-hah!” Grinning like a kid with candy, she began raking the pile
of chips toward her.
    Tigh felt the fury rising in his chest. Thrace was doing a little dance in
her seat now, singing and crowing. There were no words to express his disgust at
her smug superiority. No words, but…
    With a roar, he stood up and shoved the table over onto her. Chips and cards
flew across the room. Thrace looked startled for an instant, then lunged. Her
fist landed on his chin before he could react, and he fell backwards over his
chair, crashing to the