Author's Note

This story follows on from 'Battlestar Hermes: Salvage'. After writing 'Salvage' I've now had a chance to explore what works and what doesn't when it comes to writing the Hermes story. As a result 'Faststar' is in a slightly different format which I think makes the story clearer.

Hope you enjoy…

Delphi, Caprica
One year before 'The Fall'.

For the attention of Colonel Artimus Bowman, you are hereby requested and required to take command of the Battlestar Hermes BS-58. For this new tasking you are to be assigned the rank of Commander with all the privileges and responsibilities that come with it.

Artimus Bowman fell back onto the soft mattress of his bed as the rather copious amount of champagne he had consumed earlier that day began to set in leaving his head with a sensation that could only be likened to being a leaf caught in a hurricane. His wife, Brooke Bowman, lay down beside him smiling at him brightly. She was still wearing her elegant blue dinner dress that she had worn at the reception from which they had just returned. Looking down at him she smiled as her eyes filled with joy. She was so proud of her husband. Earlier that day Colonel Artimus Bowman became Commander Artimus Bowman and he had received word that he was to take command of a Battlestar, namely the Hermes.

"You're drunk!" she laughed stating the obvious in a teasing and playful way as she nestled herself under his right arm and began to lay on his chest.

"It doesn't happen often," he slurred with his eyes shut.

"I think I can forgive you today…Commander," she said. It seemed that everyone around him was making a concerted effort to address him by his new rank from the moment Admiral Nagala had pinned those two little pips onto his collar. Get used to it Commander were the only words of advice his friend Scott Tolan, himself a Rear-Admiral and sponsor of Bowman's promotion, could give.

"Commander!" slurred Artimus. "Com-man-der! Oh Gods help me! I don't know if I'm ready for this."

Brooke looked up at him and laughed as she said, "It's a little late to be having cold feet." He suddenly sat up pushing his wife's head off his chest. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees he buried his face into his hands and rubbed his tired eyes. "Are you ok?"

Artimus Bowman wasn't sure how to respond. The whirlwind that was the promotion ceremony and the following reception had now subsided and the realization of what his new duties would entail left him feeling as though a noose was tightening around his neck. It was a noose he was placing there himself.

"There are over three thousand people on Hermes all waiting for me to lead them," he uttered to her although she suspected it was more for his own benefit. It was a way of airing what he had bent up inside. "They're going to be looking at me for all the right answers and I'm not sure I have them all yet. I don't think I'm ready. I mean…what if I screw it up?"

"You won't!" she said confidently as she sat up to sit beside him. "Look, I'm sure every Commander in history has said the same thing you are right now." She put her arms around him and kissed him delicately on the cheek before resting her head on his right shoulder. "That's the one thing I always found odd about you, Artimus. You never seemed to have any ambition." Artimus looked at her not sure if she was paying him a compliment or an insult. Seeing the confused look on her husband's face Brooke felt compelled to explain, "You never wanted to be CAG aboard Valkyrie but it was given to you. After that you never really wanted to be XO of the Cerberus but again it was given to you. I remember us having similar conversations to this one each time you were promoted and look what happened; you exceeded everyone's expectations especially your own. That's why they promoted you again and again. You're one of these people who get put in the right place at the right time because you are the right person to do it. When push comes to shove you've always known the right thing to do. That's one of the reasons why I fell in love with you."

"I hope you're right," he said as their heads tilted lovingly together.

"I now I'm right," she whispered. "You'll see."

She stood up and turned to face him. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back down onto the bed.

"Action stations! Action stations! Set condition one throughout the ship, this not a drill!"

Battlestar Hermes
38 Days since 'The Fall'

Sitting in the darkness the scarred and burned hull of the Battlestar Hermes glided through space as elegantly as it ever had done in its lifetime. Its wounds that cut deeply into its skin served only as a challenge to fate itself. It was as if the Hermes was screaming to the Gods that it was not dead! Hermes was a fighter and a survivor and even with the damage to its hull that became visible in what little light there was in this part of space almost seventeen light years from the Colonies the ship still gave off an air of strength and power. Nestled in the safety of the Starboard Hangar Pod the Colonial Heavy Liner Alexis sat like a baby bird hiding under its mother's wing protecting it from the rain.

It has been five days since the battle above Scorpia.

Battlestar Hermes
Combat Information Centre

The klaxons wailed their all too familiar sound bringing the ship to battle stations. Artimus Bowman arrived in the CIC and in an instant assessed the state of his crew who helped run the 'brain' of the Battlestar. They were working through their duties in a magnificent fashion. He could see they were scared and that was always a good thing. Fear, when controlled, can be a tool. It keeps the senses sharp and can push someone to strive to do their jobs right. A Commander doesn't concern himself with those who look scared except when that fear inhibits the workings of his vessel. Its when the crew doesn't look scared that you worry about them for it is then they have accepted that death is around the corner and in that frame of mind a person sometimes makes a subconscious effort to speed up what they deem to be their 'fate'.

From the moment Commander Artimus Bowman arrived in the CIC it took on a new aura. Despite the seemingly blind panic that always followed the sounding of Condition One everyone seemed to stop to note that he was there. He was a reassuring figure to them all. He had led them successfully through hell for over a month now. They had survived wave after wave of Baseships and Raiders and even attacked the Cylon occupational forces above Scorpia. It had cost them in terms of lives and equipment but Hermes and more importantly the survivors crammed aboard the refugee Battlestar had survived.

"SITREP!" he called out to Colonel Dytto as he walked upto his XO standing at the Operations Desk in the middle of the room.

"Single Cylon Baseship at extreme range, CBDR," explained Dytto clearly and without a hint of hesitation or apprehension in his voice. While the crew respected Bowman many of them feared Dytto. Together they had kept everyone in line but it had not always been this way. Many still couldn't adjust to this 'new' Dytto who seemed to be firmly in Bowman's pocket while others still saw the past hostility towards one another occasionally bubble to the surface but it never erupted like it used to.

"Same tactic as before," commented Bowman looking up at the DRADIS screen hanging down from the ceiling of the CIC over the Operations Desk.

"Yes sir," added Dytto.

For the past five days the Cylons had pursued Hermes through space following the battle above Scorpia. Once each day a Baseship would appear at extreme range and try to attack the Battlestar. Each time, Hermes jumped away rather than fight but it was taking its toll.

"Begin jump prep!" ordered Bowman who then said to Dytto, "Better to live another day."

"You'll get no arguments from me, sir," said Dytto and the two of them shared a small joke as they both recalled the countless times they had been at each other's throats. Their amusement was shortlived.

"Sir!" called out Petty Officer Durand manning the communications station. Bowman looked at him in acknowledgment. "Engine room still reporting fluctuations in FTL output. They do not advise jumping at the present time."

"They do not advise it?" barked Dytto. "Don't they know what's going on up here? There's a frakking Baseship out there!"

"Sir," protested Durand. "They're saying that ever since the FTL hiccup we performed at Scorpia the spool on the number one drive has been slackened due to wear and tear on the gears. They can respool it but it will take twenty minutes or so to do and is only a stop-gap measure. They were in the process of repairing it when the Baseship appeared."

"Well that's perfect," uttered Bowman quite cynically. "Guess we have to buy ourselves twenty minutes." He then turned back to Dytto. "Looks like we are going to earn that extra day, Colonel."

The Cylon Baseship continued its slow advance towards the Battlestar. Tucked away like bats clinging to the roof of a cave were the swarms of Cylon Raiders. What no one aboard Hermes knew was that they had already fought and killed several of these little warriors above Scorpia. They had since then downloaded into new bodies and were itching for payback.

The Cylon Raider is a simple creature. It is barely sentient and thinks of itself as being little more than a drone or a member of a pack. It has very little sense of being self aware except when it feels pain. To die and be reborn is a painful and sometimes traumatic experience even for a Raider. In a sense it is never the same again. It becomes angry and bitter. It gets a taste for blood to make amends for the suffering it has endured.

This was how many of the Raiders felt as they began to swoop out of their sacks along the arms of the Baseship and began to dive headlong out into space searching for their prey.

Battlestar Hermes
Combat Information Centre

Captain Chloe Burmeister watched on her tactical display as the Baseship began to change shape as if it were bursting open. Of course that wasn't what was actually happening. The reality was this strange transformation the Baseship appears to undertake is what happens when the Raiders are first launched. They are so close together that the DRADIS can't distinguish between them and they appear as one big object. As the Raiders move away the clutter clears up and the multiple new targets become visible.

"They're launching Raiders!" yelled Burmeister at the top of her voice.

"We'd better respond in kind," said Bowman to Dytto. "Launch Vipers!"

"Aye sir," said Dytto who yanked the handset from off the Operations Desk and thrust it to the side of his head before ordering over the loudspeakers, "Launch air wing!"

Bowman's eyes seemed glued to the DRADIS screen hanging over the Operations Desk. He was watching every move the Cylons made with his mind ticking over as he tried to theorize every possible attack plan their enemy could utilize against him and his ship. He felt like the Hermes was walking a tightrope balancing between life and death and any wrong command could spell the end for the Battlestar and its crew. It was a pressure that only those in command can truly understand.

An old conversation suddenly sprung to mind.

What if I screw up…

…You won't!

I hope you're right…

…I know I'm right!

"Vipers are away, sir!" announced Durand

Port Hangar Pod
No.3 Launch Tube

The g-forces of being launched pinned Major Alex 'Griffon' Adonia to the seat of his Viper as he traversed the tube in less time than he could even think. Before long the vibration and force of the launch was replaced by tranquility as the Viper left the launch tube behind and began to glide freely in space.

'Griffon' looked all around him to get a fix on the other Vipers launching in the adjacent tubes before he swung his little ship around into a holding pattern above the Battlestar to await the rest of the air wing as they launched and formed up. Where once there were over one hundred and fifty Viper aboard Hermes now there were just forty eight. The others had either been lost in combat, damaged beyond repair during battle or simply gone unserviceable due to mechanical breakdowns and a lack of spare parts.

In order to help make up the shortfall the Raptors were having to take on a more aggressive role as well as their usual electronic warfare duties. Five Raptors darted out of the Port Hangar Deck to join up with the Vipers. Three were in a heavy fighter configuration with large box launchers for missiles and rotary rail guns hung beneath their stub wings. This was hardly an ideal arrangement since the increased mass of this configuration hindered maneuverability even in space.

The Vipers and Raptors took up their defensive formations above the dorsal hull of the Hermes waiting for their orders. 'Griffon' looked down at his weapons DRADIS screen and saw that the image was becoming distorted due to Cylon jamming. The two standard Raptors were quickly trying to counteract this effect and at intermittent points the image became clear before the Cylons countered their efforts once more.

Battlestar Hermes
Combat Information Centre

As the DRADIS signals began to clear up Bowman saw what his enemy were trying to do. They were using their superior numbers against the Hermes by trying to overwhelm its defenses. The Raiders were breaking up into three groups while the Baseship remained at extreme range and out of the battle. Bowman presumed that the Cylons believed Hermes had more ship-to-ship nukes that would prove devastating to the weak armour of the Baseship central axis. He silently wished it were true. The fact was that Hermes had no nuclear weapons left.

"Alright, listen up!" announced Bowman. "This is what they're going to do; they're going to attack in three groups. One will attack and break off as the second comes in and then repeat this with the third. Their goal is to attack us with our defenses repelling the previous attack. They know we're hurt and their going to use that. We have to make sure that we catch them out. Have 'Griffon' head towards the first wave and then wait for my orders!"

The CIC crew quickly acknowledged their Commander. Burmeister identified which group was the first wave of the Cylon attack after observing one of them heading directly for Hermes. The other two groups were still spreading out and away from one another in order to attack the Battlestar from opposite sides.

Burmeister announced to the CIC, "Cylon first wave bearing two-three-niner carom one-eight!"

'Griffon' acknowledged his orders from Hermes to head for the first wave with the air wing. After signaling to the pilots beside him he pulled the control stick around to the left and his Viper banked hard to port. The other Vipers and the Raptors quickly followed him. The electronic warfare Raptors were kept in the rear of the formation in order to better protect them whilst carrying out their vital duties.

"Weapons free!" called out 'Griffon' over the wireless as the air wing approached the initial Cylon attack force. "Remember to hold your fire until the last second. We don't have the ammo to waste just spitting fire into space."

The Vipers closed in on the Raiders. The distance between them was reducing rapidly. Theoretically a shell fired from either the Cylon or Colonial guns would go on forever until it eventually hit something but the guns were all trained to hit a spot at a certain distance away because this would increase the hitting power of the guns. Whereas a Raider or a Viper could survive a single shell hit, two shell hits in close proximity would double the damage as well increase the collateral damage around the impact point.

More than one of the Viper and Raptor pilots were having their doubts about surviving the next few minutes. They all knew that the Vipers were in need of maintenance that was becoming increasingly difficult due to the short supplies available to them. Nevertheless they pressed on determined to do their jobs and keep the Hermes safe.

They were now almost within firing range. Even 'Griffon's heart beat hard in his chest feeling like there was a worlds class boxer beating on the inside of his rib cage. Suddenly a voice emanating from Hermes crackled over the wireless to the Vipers and Raptors.

"Now! Break! Break! Break!"

Bowman's voice signaled for every one of the Vipers and Raptors to suddenly break hard away to the left and the right. This left the Raiders a direct line of sight to the Hermes. The hull of the Battlestar began to flicker as the defensive batteries opened up hurtling explosive shells into the Cylon formation. The Raiders unlucky enough to receive a direct hit exploded in a ball of flame and shrapnel that flew off into numerous directions. The proximity bursts damaged, although perhaps injured would be a more accurate description, those that they exploded nearby sending the first wave of Raiders into chaos.

Most of them continued onwards in their hell bent charge towards Hermes but the thick defensive fire either destroyed or crippled them. With the bulk of the Raiders in the first wave destroyed the survivors withdrew back to the Baseship.

'Griffon's Vipers and Raptors were now charging towards the second wave that was attacking Hermes from the Battlestar's rear hemisphere. Bowman's plan had been to avoid falling into the Cylon trap of getting caught up defending against one wave while the second and third attacked from different directions. Now that one wave had effectively been defeated he could concentrate his defenses against the other two waves. With 'Griffon's air wing hitting the second wave the defensive batteries turned on the third wave.

Battlestar Hermes
Civilian Section aka 'The Slum'

The smell that once existed inside 'The Slum' was now an accepted part of everyday life in this part of the Hermes. The dirt and grime went almost totally unnoticed now as the ordinary civility of life in a modern society went straight out the air lock. Everyone just wanted to survive no matter what that would take.

'The Slum' itself was formerly the Marine Barrack Section which in times of war would have housed one and a half thousand Marines. Nearly twice that number of survivors were now crammed into the section of the Battlestar after their own ships were stripped for parts by the crew of the Battlestar Pegasus – as far as anyone aboard the Hermes was aware the Pegasus was the only other survivor from the Colonial Fleet. 'The Slum' consisted of five levels joined by large stairways at different points. Access to the section was through two main hatches on either side of 'The Slum'. There were no other ways in or out since the section was designed to act as life pod if the Hermes hull was breached. The idea was the section could be detached from the main ship and keep the Marines alive long enough to be rescued. The reality of this design for the civilians who now called it home was that they felt like rats in a cage where survival of the fittest was the order of the day.

"Please help me!"

Carlos Johan ran as fast as his legs could take him. He dived passed anyone who was in his way as he raced through the dimly lit corridors of 'The Slum'. On several occasions he knocked people over as he desperately tried to get away from his pursuers but with every step he took the more he realized that his time was almost up.

The two men who followed him were well known to the civilians in 'The Slum'. Everyone, without exception, cleared a path for them to continue their pursuit of Johan. They all knew what was coming. They had seen it several times since they had come aboard Hermes. In fact the only people who didn't seem to know about it were anyone outside of the civilian section. If they did then they weren't bothered anyway and this reinforced the idea that they had been forgotten by Bowman and his people except when they needed laborers to work on repairs to the ship. Whenever anyone saw Johan being chased by these two men they looked at him as though he were already dead.

He reached the stairwell on the fourth level and tried to run down the steps to the third level. His only hope was to get to the Marine guards at the hatchway and try to convince them to help him. It was here the last of his luck deserted him however. A missile struck the hull nearby causing 'The Slum' to tremble violently. He lost his footing and fell down several steps.

As he lay at the bottom of the steps his right arm ached terribly from the fall. He rolled on the floor trying to cradle his injuries as his pursuers caught up with him. There were at least a hundred people in view of what was going on including children as young as five. They all simply watched as the two men picked up Johan and tied a rope around his neck. They then tied the other end to the hand rail running down the stairwell. Johan's sobs echoed out even over the sound of weapons fire hitting the exterior hull of the Battlestar.

"You were frakking told not to screw with us!" barked the largest of the men who then proceeded to beat Johan in the stomach causing him to fall to the ground.

"Hey!" interrupted the other man. "You heard what he said; no physical injuries. Just hang the bastard!"

The larger man didn't like being told what to do and so he spat on Johan's head before dragging him back onto his feet. Those watching didn't know if Johan no longer had the strength to fight or whether he had just given up altogether. Either way he wasn't struggling as the two men lifted his body up over the handrail before throwing him over. Johan's body fell into the gap on the stairwell between level three and two until the rope tightened and crushed his neck. He died instantly. The two men simply watched as his body swung from side to side making no noise or movement. Once they were sure he was dead they simply walked away.

If anyone were to ask those who watched what happened they would all say the same thing; suicide. They all knew that there was no real law in 'The Slum'. If anyone spoke up they could guarantee that they would be next.

This was the truth that was life for the civilians aboard Hermes.

"Come on you mother frakker! Blink for me!"

'Griffon' had chased one particular Raider for over two and a half minutes which in dogfight terms was an eternity. His finger had developed an almost insatiable itch to fire on the Cylon that he was fighting with all his strength knowing full well that he was in an unfavorable position. It wasn't until the Raider tried to pull out of a sharp turn by cutting its engines and pointing the nose upwards did he get his opportunity. The Raider had just one second to pull off the evading maneuver but it was not enough. 'Griffon' saw his opportunity and his trigger finger finally pressed down. The Viper spat shells from its railguns that cut into the Raider's hull. Red 'blood' spewed from the dead Cylon before splattering across 'Griffon's Viper. 'Griffon' turned back into the main fight.

A fighter Raptor was sending two missiles into a formation of five Raiders that were themselves swooping back into the fight after turning away to regroup. One missed its target and the proximity fuse detonated the warhead damaging a nearby Raider. The second missile hit its target head on. The main fuselage of the Raider exploded into tiny bits each no bigger than a dinner plate. With the main hull gone the two wings broke away and began twisting away into infinity with their jagged edges still glowing red from the blast.

The Colonials had not had it all their own way however. 'Hot Top' had taken a hit in her number two engine forcing her to shut it down. With her performance significantly hindered 'Griffon' ordered her to land right away. She hit the Port Landing Deck quite hard and almost totally out of control. Her landing gear collapsed and the bottom of her Viper's hull scraped along the magnetized surface for several yards before finally coming to a halt.

Battlestar Hermes
Combat Information Centre

A medic was attending to Durand after he had fallen forward and hit his head on his console following a nearby missile hit to the hull. A junior crewman named Fanto had now taken his place and was relaying all of Bowman's orders to the relevant section of the ship. Dytto had the intercom handset firmly on the side of his face talking to the snipes down in the engine room while Bowman continued to organize the defense.

"The bulk of the Cylon formation is regrouping on our port side," announced Burmeister who was watching events unfolding on her DRADIS. "The remainder are still engaged with our Vipers in our rear hemisphere."

"Have our port and dorsal batteries concentrate their efforts on breaking up that formation!" ordered Bowman. "Let's try and keep them off balance. Helm; give me a one hundred and fifty degree roll to port. Let's give our dorsal guns a clearer shot."

"Aye sir," replied the young crewman manning the helm, a native of Aerilon named Alison Melee.

Finally, Dytto relayed the words everyone was hoping to hear. "Engine room reporting FTL is green!"

"Combat landings!" boomed Bowman instantly. "Coordinate defensive batteries to provide cover fire for our air wing. Prepare to jump!"

With high explosive shells racing passed them the air wing hurtled head long towards the Port Landing Deck. The idea of a combat landing was simple; get on the deck as quick as possible. The reality was always a little different. Even with their reduced numbers the risk of collision amongst the air wing as they approached was frighteningly high. If the Alexis hadn't been docked into the Starboard Hangar Pod then they could have used both Landing Decks which would have meant that fewer Vipers and Raptors would have been trying to squeeze on board at one time.

The defensive batteries fired volley after volley of shells at the formation of Raiders trying to keep them from picking off 'Griffon's pilots as they tried to make their landings. The Vipers and Raptors were particularly vulnerable during their approach because they had to line up and fly straight and level into a confined space. The gunners aboard Hermes were doing a sterling job however keeping the Raiders at a good distance away allowing the air wing to land in the Port Hangar Pod.

The officer in the Traffic Control Centre positioned high above the Landing Deck looking down from the roof of the cavernous pod watched and waited until the last Viper and Raptor were down before reporting back to the CIC that they were all aboard.

Battlestar Hermes
Combat Information Centre

"Air wing is aboard," reported Dytto. "Jump coordinates have been inputted into the navigation computer."

"Jump the ship!" ordered Bowman.

Everyone who heard the order prepared for the sensation of being squeezed through an artificially created spatial distortion to another part of the galaxy. It is a strange feeling that can often leave those with a weak stomach feeling quite queasy.

In a blinding flash the Jupiter-class Battlestar Hermes vanished. The Raiders that were violently maneuvering to avoid getting hit by defensive fire suddenly leveled out and began to turn back towards the Baseship that had deliberately stayed out of the fight at extreme range.

Aboard the Baseship there was a representative of all seven main Cylon models. Each one of them had their hands in the gelatinous bio-neural interface that allowed them to receive information from the Baseship's sensors. With the Hermes now gone they had recalled their Raiders and given the Baseship orders to prepare to jump.

"They didn't run this time," said the Eight whose model had a keen insight into weapons and tactics. "They stayed to fight. It couldn't have been by choice. We must have damaged them more than we had previously estimated. And now even more so."

"Hermes is still intact," added the Five.

"They are resourceful," said the Two. "They will repair the damage and come back as strong."

"I agree," said the One smirking as he waited for the others to look his way before adding, "With each of you. According to our agent's report they're confidence is still quite high after their daring little mission to Scorpia. When someone survives death so many times they start to feel their invincible. Today was unfortunate but it will serve to reinforce their belief that they can fight on and that is the very thing we need to foster. We did a good job here today. We should be proud."

The Number One casually strolled away leaving his compatriots in the main command centre of the Baseship. Until the attack on the colonies they had all agreed unanimously on almost every single decision that had to be made but since then they had come into conflict on several occasions but the bitterest debates were over Cavil's plan for the Battlestar Hermes. Some directly supported it while others, particularly the Sixes, were quite weary of it.

Every Baseship has a hybrid to control it. The hybrids were an evolutionary dead end for the early Cylon Centurions in their efforts to become human. Aboard this particular Baseship the hybrid continued her ceaseless ranting of seemingly unimportant words just flowing from her mouth. Some of the Cylons believed that the words were simply nonsense spoken by a half-Cylon, half-human creature driven mad by its own existence while others believed that they were acting as God's voice;

I can see them all.The seven, now six, self-described machines who believe themselves without sin. But in time, it is sin that will consume them. They will know enmity, bitterness, the wrenching agony of one splintering into many. New line. Detecting abnormal nitrogen mix. Compensating. The ground upon which he has built his house shall crumble. And when it falls he shall mark those inferior to his being as his own. Radiation levels normal. The vanquished shall hear the call of the messenger but the message has been confused and lost. Blood runs through the hall of the house of God and his most righteous shall declare themselves as he without just thought or heart. They shall be guided by a winged leader who will partner himself to the sheaved swords of his enemies who will then reveal the serpent within.

JUMP!