On the Line

By Lisa Zaza

Part 1

"Shuttle to full stealth mode, now," ordered the colonel. The pilot threw a bank of switches, activating the ship's full ECM suite.

"Full stealth mode. Aye, sir."

Apollo checked his equipment for a final time, before glancing across at Starbuck. His friend looked tense as he adjusted his helmet in the rear of the shuttle, then pulled it off again, letting out a frustrated sigh and shaking his head. Apollo remembered the feeling well. Occluding your usual senses and adapting to seeing through a digitally enhanced image, it had made him feel more machine than Human, especially when the headband would never adjust properly. Add to that a night jump at ten thousand metrons. In the pitch black. Into enemy territory. Their objective: penetrate a Cylon base unobserved, disable the hangar doors to prevent any defending Raiders from taking off. A second team was to knock out the scanners and antenna array, rendering the enemy both blind and deaf, and a third to touch off the Cylon fuel and ammunition stores, causing complete chaos as well as considerable damage. Then, they had to make it back to the rendezvous point for pick up all within four centars.

Or get blown to Hades Hole if they got caught in the air strike instead.

"Tell me again, Starbuck," Apollo said, even though it was carved into his brain at this point. Reviewing the plan would tighten their focus. And get Starbuck's mind off the helmet that was so obviously distracting him.

The warrior nodded, tossing the helmet in his hands and getting a steely look from the colonel for his efforts. "We free fall with oxygen to two thousand metrons to hopefully avoid detection, as well as minimize our exposure in case we do get spotted . . . the whole time trying not to freeze our astrums off. Then we pull our cords, and hope we don't break our necks with the sudden shock of the chute opening at that velocity." Starbuck shrugged. "Simple." Then he smiled wryly, "Assuming we don't get hung up in a tree, splatter on some rocks, get shot by a Cylon, or break something when we land. Oh, and here's my favourite part. That's just the first five centons." With the help of another warrior, he hefted his pack onto his back, weaving slightly under the weight. "Assuming I even make it to the jump chute under all this frackin' weight . . ."

Apollo nodded. They both knew the drill. They'd run through it repeatedly since yesterday until they'd explored every possible thing that could go wrong. All their cumulative training, every micron of experience would be put to the test. "The chute, guidance system, oxygen, optical enhancer, scanners, communications, weapons, explosives, med kit, rations, survival gear . . . sixty kilons." Apollo widened his stance as the considerable weight of his pack was loaded on his shoulders, and the straps adjusted automatically. The damn packs were almost as heavy as each man. "Thank the Lords we'll be leaving some of it behind."

"Don't lose sight of what's on the line, Apollo. Starbuck." the colonel inserted solemnly, standing akimbo watching their progress. "If the Cylons even get a whiff of our presence in this sector . . ."

"No pressure," Starbuck murmured quietly.

"We'll be over the drop zone in two centons," the pilot yelled back.

"Conditions?" Starbuck called forward. There wasn't a single star sparkling in the sky, which didn't bode well. "Visibility?"

"Deteriorating," the pilot replied. "Thunder clouds rolling in. Scanners picking up rising electrical activity. Winds are picking up. Gusts of up to 64.37 kilometrons per centar. And the temperature is dropping rapidly."

Starbuck winced, shaking his head as he turned to glance out a porthole. Murky blackness surrounded them. In the distance, a bolt of lightening momentarily lightened the murk. "Oh, perfect . . ." He glanced towards the heavens moodily. "You know, after a lifetime of striking bargains, I'm beginning to get the idea that God has a warped sense of humour. This wasn't the lightening of the moment I was referring to a centar ago, by the way . . . " He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath.

"Forecasts reported the weather was going to get worse, not better. If we don't go in now, Starbuck . . ." Apollo let out a breath, glancing at his friend's back. A sudden downward flow of air turbulence could plummet them to their death. A sudden gust could whip them kilometrons from the targeted landing zone, blowing their schedule all to Hades Hole. Still, to be chosen for this mission was quite an honour, even under these circumstances . . . They had the skill and the training, and together they were almost invincible. If anybody could do it, they could. "We'll lose the advantage of darkness, not to mention the opportunity . . ." He trailed off.

"Status report on Beta and Gamma Teams?" the colonel called forward.

Muted voices forward indicated the co-pilot was confirming the data as they flew below Cylon scanner range. "Beta Team reported on target and proceeding. Gamma Team's away."

"Yeah, but they're further west of the storm, and less likely to get fried . . ." Starbuck murmured, glancing out the viewport again.

"Yeah," Apollo returned. It was risky.

"Colonel!" shouted the pilot, as an alarm sounded and lights blinked on the panel. "We're over the drop zone, but we have a targeting sensor failure. Our lock on the drop zone will be lost in less than . . . fifty microns."

If they didn't go now . . . "Starbuck?" Apollo probed.

The other man let out a deep breath. "It's up to you, buddy. I got you into this mess . . ."

"Not without a measure of complicity on my part . . ." Apollo replied honestly, stepping forward to squeeze Starbuck's shoulder. They both had to be one hundred percent committed to the mission, and while he was more than familiar with the reluctant hero that was his friend, he needed to tap the unwavering dedication that lay just below the protective crust of insouciance and sarcasm. "What's it gonna be?"

Starbuck turned to regard him. He raised an eyebrow as sudden amusement lit his features. "Are you actually asking me if we should jump or go home?"

"I guess I am," Apollo smiled. "I've found that with you, the phrasing is key."

"Well, you know I always jump . . ."

"I was counting on it."

"So is Humanity," added the colonel as they quickly moved towards the jump chutes.