Chapter Four

Valkyrie

Unexplored Space

I-11/23347

Commander Adama had woken up in a sour mood seven hours earlier and a quick workout of boxing and weights in the ship's gym had done little to change his state of mind. The elusive 'Cylon stealth craft' had only been seen once in the past three weeks, or twenty-four days to be precise. Rumors had fully circulated about what the mission out to Piera Sector and beyond actually was.

The command staffs knew the mission, with the exception of CORA, and that meant a minimum of a hundred people. Couple the reinforcement of the battlestar group with Gorgon and the hours of drills and simulations being run the inevitable rumors spread. And Adama was a man who'd hated, despised rumors.

He thought a quick walk through the length of the cavernous portside landing bay would ease his state of mind. No matter how busy or how swamped with paperwork, operational responsibilities, or whatever else flew across the desk of a commander responsible for five ships and ten thousand lives he always made time for a quick stroll through one of the hangers.

He generally did it twice a week, with one day the port and the next day the starboard hanger. It was a nice little change of the gunmetal gray scenery and boring catacomb of corridors which weaved through every Colonial warship.

"Afternoon, Commander," a knuckle dragger, Petty Officer second class Morin, a relatively young kid from Canceron said for a group of junior enlisted. He saluted for the group and Adama returned it.

The Old Man gave the PO a nod and a quick one-two of the work he was doing. "Keep those bird flying, petty officer," he said as he walked by.

"Yes, sir!"

Adama allowed himself a quick smile as he made his way through the jungle of machines, men, and equipment. At the far end a pair of Vipers were being loaded into the forward launch tubes and a Raptor was being taxied up to the flight deck. He threw his hands behind back and stuck his shoulder back and up until he came to his final destination.

The stealth ships had been aboard for three weeks. He'd come down to look at them once before, but today was hoping for the 'grand tour.' Drills, maneuvers, and a small engine accident on Attia had distracted him each time he'd allotted time.

Last week an issue between two crewmen who'd accused the other of cheating at Triad had devolved into a nasty fist fight. Most commanders were content to just let two drunk and rowdy sailors fight it out and give each other some bruises. Men and women in the fleet weren't the sensitive bunch who needed to sit down and talk it out. If they fought they fought and then it was resolved. That was it.

Unfortunately it had spread to where one had jumped the other late at night in the aft starboard head. An engineering officer had heard the commotion and put an end to the fight and them both on report. It was a shame, but the fleet had tens of millions of personnel in it and there were always the bad apples who somehow made it through, either by intimidation, overt threats, or bribery.

That and a mast had nixed the Old Man's third attempt to have some time looking with the stealth ships. This was his fourth, and by the gods, he was going to get a little time. He was forfeiting his lunch to do it, too!

"Commander, good afternoon, sir!"

"Bulldog, how are you today."

"I'm doing well sir." The stealthstar pilot smiled back and set down a torque wrench on a tool cart. He was wearing dirtied, greasy green fatigues and tank tops. "Finally got to have a tour, sir?"

Adama nodded. "That's right." He stooped beside Bulldog; the Marines had let him pass without an ID check, and threw his hands on his hips and looked at the stealthstars. "These new models are a lot nicer than the ones I flew back in the War." He glanced over to the pilot beside him. He'd only known him since he'd come over from Lucky Tonight and Argus, but he liked the man. He seemed to be one of those one could classify as 'good people.'

When Adama had met with the pilots from the stealth battlestar he'd seen a lot of his younger self in the man; a bit cocky, in a good, pilot way, but also with the humility to know that no matter how good a pilot one was, there was always someone better.

Bulldog gave the CO a toothy grin and back stepped until he was at the nose cone. Patting it he said, "Yes sir, these ships are beautiful. Slap some recessed missiles on and re-jigger the design a bit and you could have quite the stealth fighter, if I do say so."

The Old Man nodded to a few of the pilots working on their own ships. Colonial attack craft were designed to be low-maintenance and a lot of pilots spent their spare time (when not drinking, playing cars, or fraking) learning about their Vipers and Raptors and how to fix them from the knuckle draggers. It helped foster a professional camaraderie between the officers and enlisted mechanics.

"Alright so-" Adama was just about to ask for that tour.

"Commander Adama to CIC, Commander Adama to CIC."

Bulldog looked up at the closest PA speaker and back at the commander. He tried not to smile but trying to hide it was even worse.

Maybe next week.


As Adama made his way to CIC he returned the usual salutes as sailors braced the bulkheads either with a nod. It was his tell. He was in a bad mood. Stepping through the pressure hatch from frame zero-seven-nine into zero-eight-one he made a sharp left turn, past the tactical ready room and as the two Marine sentries to CIC saw him approach, came to attention. The one furthest away leaned in towards the hatch, close to the magnetic reader and swiped his card.

"Sir!"

"Kopka, Aias," he said with a nod.

Kopka was a tall Marine, and broad shouldered, too, and the light armor he wore aboard the battlestar only made him more of a mismatch for his shorter co-sentry, Aias, a young lady from Leonis. Adama didn't even have to stop his stride, Kopka had the access card out and already swiped with hatch open.

On entering a third Marine sentry, spaced in the right corner between DC and backup comms, called the CIC to attention, but Adama had them carry on as he marched to the command console. Colonel Tigh, Major Amorak, Captain Alfred Papadakos, Upland and Nikon along with Doctor Baltar were already clustered around the central console, each seemingly pointing at something different and in three or four separate conversations amongst themselves.

Captain Kessia Tavos was with the main group of officers around the console but her duties as navigation officer had a lieutenant and a chief hovering around her for her signature or okay on something.

Before getting half a dozen steps into the CIC he already identified a petty officer, a chief, and a lieutenant lingering off to the side- the green lieutenant and PO looking a bit nervous- who all needed his attention for something of what was undoubtedly extreme, overriding importance.

"What do we have?"

Colonel Tigh stepped to the side to make space for his friend and pointed down at the two dimensional display board. "Radiological detectors picked up a faint radiation signature. It looks like something nuclear exploded about three light years out," the Colonel grumbled.

"One of our Raptors was out patrolling here," Captain Papadakos tapped a key on the display and it zoomed in, "looking at some tyllium asteroids. We're a light year from the Raptor, sir, so that's why it didn't set off the radiological alarm on board. I've already downloaded the data to the workstations."

"This could be the Cylons." Amorak was excited.

"I don't see it as anything else," Tigh agreed with his customary glare.

"I agree with the Colonel and Major, sir," Upland said. "It could be a Cylon weapon production facility, but most likely some sort of accident. Though they could have been testing weapons."

Adama noticed Baltar was smirking a little. Amorak seemed to have picked up on it, too.

Tavos leaned in over the console and put down a tablet computer. "Sir," she addressed Adama, "I had our telescope arrays realigned to this region of space." She brought up spectrographic readings on the screen. "It looks like there's a star system out there. Three gas giants and two Kobol sized worlds, sir we'd rate as one point oh three and point ninety-seven kay gees."

"Habitable?" Tigh asked.

The navigation officer wrinkled her nose. "It is a possibility, sir. We'd need to send one of the capital ships out one of these locations I marked to be sure. If it wasn't for the Raptor detecting the radiological signature we'd never have spotted the system."

All their telescopes had been pointed about a hundred degrees away from the star system gathering data for a series of jumps the battlestar group was going to undertake over the next week in a typical search grid.

"We'll send Chios and Gorgon here," Adama pointed and then looked up at the young woman. She nodded. "Major Amorak, Doctor Baltar, is there anything more you can tell us from the radiological detection?"

"Not at the moment, sir," Amorak shook her head. "We have the DRADIS logs from the Raptor but Doctor Baltar and I can only determine the explosion was, of course, artificial. However, there was some, uh, strange radiation readings." She hesitated. "I'd like to be able to-"

"Something not congruent with what one would expect from the normal radiation was emitted from this nuclear explosion," Baltar elaborated. "There are exotic particles which have only been theorized to exist, Commander." He grinned. "Well, previously theorized to exist."

Amorak closed her eyes, visibly annoyed with Doctor Baltar and pissed he'd cut her off like that. It wasn't in her nature to just go out and blurt theories out and speculate out the ass. She knew exactly what 'exotic particle' he was talking about but she wanted an hour of two to check and double-check the data to be sure.

Captain Papadakos frowned and looked down at the radiological readings and thumbed through. "What particles, Doctor?" He'd been a short lived theoretical physics major but had switched to aerospace engineering- still heavy in physics but he hadn't really used it that much. Designing simulations and firing big space guns didn't require a doctorate.

"I think Doctor Baltar is referring to the Prometheus particle." Amorak said dryly. She grabbed up the tablet from Papadakos and grinned. "This is kind of a long shot." She lowered the tablet to point it to Commander Adama. "These bands here could, and I stress could indicate Prometheus… but we've been trying to crack it for probably two centuries. These bands here I have no idea what they are. They aren't congruent with a nuclear explosion and aren't close to the particle at all. But this…" she said quietly, "even these data alone will jump our research up twenty, thirty years if it is Prometheus. And the other ones, if they occurred alongside Prometheus…" she shook her head, "I don't know. It's big."

Tigh leaned forward on the console and looked first to Adama and then Amorak and Baltar. "Frak, Bill, if the Cylons have that it could be a game changer."

Everyone in the military knew what the particle was. It was their 'holy' of holies, the particle which could change everything. Theorized by Doctors Anja Corith and Frank Travko almost two centuries ago it was a particle with applications which could revolutionize everything from energy production to communications.

"If the Cylons have discovered how to harness Prometheus then we may have to take action, sir," Captain Upland strongly suggested. Adama shot her a look. FID had some authority over ship commanders but the intelligence organization was quite reluctant to exercise such authority. "We could send back Gorgon to the Colonies and redline her FTLs if we had to, sir."

"We'll come to that if we have to." Adama put up a hand. "Doctor Baltar, Major, can you tell us anything more?"

Baltar nodded and wagged a finger. "This would give them a communication and data transmission capability we've never been able to reach, Commander. We've only been about to get wireless in real time up to about a half dozen SU depending on the transmitter, but this…even with obscene energy requirements to have instantaneous communications across-"

"A virtually infinite distance would be a fantastic development," Amorak finished with her turn to interrupt him. She looked over at Adama and Tigh. "It would be a game changer, sirs, and a fraking big one. The level of coordination Cylons could achieve and their ability to share a battle connection during a fight would be extreme."

"It would revolutionize science." Baltar sounded excited and borderline naïve to the problem of the Cylons having Prometheus. Even if the experiment had been a failure the preponderance of evidence pointed to them having created the particle and in necessary quantity for it to be detectable.

Tigh ran a hand through his thinning white hair. "If it could be adapted to a ship the Cylons would be able to communicate across Cyrannus, Helios, and the surrounding systems in real time, for a coordinated assault on the Colonies." He had to take the most pessimistic outlook. "With that much coordination they could wipe out our Colonies within a week, a month tops."

The Colonel looked over to the FID officer for her support as well.

"I would concur with the Colonel, Commander." Upland hesitated for a moment but after nodding to herself, continued. "FID has performed a number of simulations based on numerous variables. One such variable is real time communication across our sphere of colonized and militarized space. We don't know the exact, actual disposition of Cylon forces. From our most pessimistic to most optimistic conclusions based on numerous variables the Cylons could achieve a complete victory in under two weeks to as little as three months, sir."

"They could conquer the Colonies-"

Upland interrupted Papadakos. "No, captain, not conquer. Those simulations were for complete annihilation. FID believe the next war- should there be one- would only end with the complete annihilation of the other." She saw some of the surprise, mixed with horror in a few of their eyes. "Our technology and jump engine capabilities have increased the lethality of our warships many times over. A full, wide front first strike by either side to the other would be devastating."

Commander Adama nodded to them all but remained calm. He squinted down at the console and the DRADIS logs and the navigational displays. "We can't jump to any conclusions yet," he said quietly, "but we need to investigate. Chios and Gorgon will make their jumps and then report back if the planet is habitable or if they find anything."

"The explosion could have been some…" Papadakos shrugged, "tyllium energizer overload then. I studied the Prometheus particle a little bit at the Academy. I remember reading a paper from Colonel Vas about some energizer being directly linked to an FTL core to get past the energy requirement and create the necessary environment for the particle."

"You're most likely correct, captain," Amorak agreed. Something wasn't sitting right with her and she was fidgeting and itching her index finger with her thumb. "I read that same article, from Ap. U., but it was a dead end." She looked at a few confused faces from the non-scientists. Amorak turned to Commander Adama. "Sir, if the Cylons are experimenting out there then we need to destroy whatever it is immediately."

Her voice was level but there was an underlying urgency. A few of the officers were surprised at her audacity. A little attack, a skirmish here or there, a destroyed Viper or some destroyed Raiders were all pinpricks easily forgettable. In the realm of Colonial-Cylon (non) relations something small could be swept under the metaphorical rug. But an outright attack, a massive attack by two battlestars, three attackstars, and hundreds of fighters would be an act of provocation too large for the Cylons to ignore.

Captain Tavios blinked. "That… would start a war."

Even Colonel Tigh was a little stunned.

"We can decide what to do after a recon mission," Adama said before anyone else could say anything more. His tone was clear he wanted the topic dropped for the moment.

"They may not even be there anymore," Captain Papadakos said and continued, "Because they'd know there was a nuclear explosion we could detect. And if that stealth craft was keeping tabs on our border pickets…"

The jaw muscles under Colonel Tigh's cheeks tensed. "Fraking Cylons overreached. Their little stealth ship, if it was a stealth ship got them noticed. I think with us our here they would have high tailed it out of here."

"Then they would have vacated." Adama finished. Amorak was about to protest. "The Cylons did that during the war. They build everything important mobile. Believe me…" he looked to the side and towards the deck, "I know." He focused back on her. "If you can get in closer would that help… learning about this particle?" He motioned to the tablet computer with the DRADIS data. "And what the Cylons were up to."

"It-"

Amorak put up a hand to stop Baltar from speaking.

"Yes, sir, it would. There's a lot of reasons why we haven't been able to create, let alone harness Prometheus particles, sir, and that's because they also produce intense spatial instability. And we've never even gotten to that step… but the particle would create a phenomenon in space- again, purely theorized, sir- of stable… uh," the left corner of her lip cracked up, "of stable instability, in a nutshell." She frowned. "If that makes sense and believe me, I know how it sounds, but if we can get in close then we can see this for ourselves, get some DRADIS readings and maybe even image whatever it is they are using, or in this case, used."

"And you can do this in a Raptor on site?" He turned to Nikon. "Without detection."

"Yes, sir, if prior recons over the line are any indication I believe I could get us in as close as possible. As long as no Cylon is looking at that particular place we jump from sir…" he leaned over the table and nodded as his finger traced a course. "I could jump a Raptor-S to here, to the edge of the system and then do a low powered jump to close in."

Major Amorak straightened just a little bit, looked at the table, over to Baltar- who was almost doe eyed with glee at the prospect of discovery- and back to Adama. "The closer we get the better. If there's anything abnormal we can calibrate DRADIS, manipulate our sensors it if we have to. Doctor Baltar and I would be the most qualified to undertake such a mission. We may only get one shot at this, sir."

"Captain Upland?" Adama asked.

The officer threw her hands behind her back. "I would voice my support of such a reconnaissance mission, sir. The more we find out the more information we would have in order to come to a conclusion for our next course of action."

"Very well, major. Once Chios and Gorgon return with more information about the system, and if we don't see any signs of Cylons between us and the source of the explosion, you can have your expedition."


Planetary Body 76-34Alpha

Thirty Hours Later

Major Jessica Amorak wiped the sweat and grime from her face and felt her chest rise and fall as she took slow, deep breaths. Her chest ached with every labored breathe. Everything around her was dark.

She realized it wasn't truly dark. Her eyes were sealed shut and she was lying in a corner of the Raptor, facing the bulkhead. Her helmet faceplate was covered in gunk and gear. Slowly she opened her eyes as she heard the faint sound of static and felt warm sparks shower down through a tear in her flight suit and knocked everything from her helmet. Frantically she unhooked it and tossed it away from her.

An alarm whooped to a near deafening level until some circuit fizzled out and the alarm blared once again in protest then fell silent. She heard strings of curses only a sailor could assemble; with her eyes still closed she knew her pilot was alive. She found some strength to open them, slowly, and they stung as the smoke in the cabin burned them. Her hand was a mess; the normally olive drab and black glove was torn and covered in a deep, crimson red liquid which dripped onto her chest as she held her hand over her, afraid to move.

Her whole body screamed in agony. Everything hurt, everything was bruised, shaken, battered. This wasn't what she was meant to do and she cursed herself for pretending to play the fraking soldier when she knew she wasn't a fraking soldier.

She knew her place was in the lab but she'd bullfraked her way onto this mission and pulled Baltar- was he even alive?- with her. It was an adventure, right? She'd find some secret Cylon compound here and the fraking stealth ship and the source of the holiest of holy particles of Colonial theoretical physics… and then what? She rolled over onto her side, groaning as she rolled onto some jagged piece of something.

Something fought its way out of her. It might have been her military training or her stubborn desire to prove to the world she was tough as nails, she didn't know and right then it didn't matter. She unbuckled the glove from its airtight lock and ripping the glove off and tossed it away from her.

Groaning, she rolled on her side and felt the hard metal of the cabin deck press into her face. It felt cool and hot and a thousand different sensations rushed through her body as adrenaline began rebooting her body. Her eyes had slammed shut as she rolled but they steadily fluttered open and then shot wide as she heard the pain cries someone and yelling form someone else.

Amorak looked at the grime she wiped from her face, a few shades darker than her skin and shook her head to clear away the grogginess. She winced as she tried getting up and rubbed her temples as her vision went from blurry, to sort of blurry, to the and finally her vision seemed to settle and she focused on what was around her.

"Gods damn… what… happened to us happened up there?" She pulled herself up by some cargo netting only to jostle loose a container which was a centimeter from smacking her head. It seemed to stop mid-air and she slowly moved out from her defensive posture, hands protecting her face, and cautiously eyed the silvery box and saw a pair of strong hands holding it.

Amorak grappled on the cargo netting and pulled herself forward and up.

"Captain… thank the gods…" she let out a breath of complete relief and rubbed the grime from her face. He threw the box and extended a hand and pulled her up. She brushed herself off and looked over the cabin. She saw the captain in his helmet and she remembered going for hers… after their Raptor had been shot down… "Oh Gods…" she whispered, "Who the frak shot us down?"

She glanced down at the small flightcomp display on her flight suit's left forearm. The smart interactive textiles of her flight suit, interlaced with sensors, were somehow all green. She didn't feel wounded, except for the bruises, had no fractures… her eyes quickly scanned the read outs and she thanked her house gods for their protection.

Captain Antony Nikon shook his head and muttered something under his breath. The pilot looked alright but the way he was leaning down next to Doctor Baltar showed he was guarding his flank. Nikon was gripping the flightcomp display on Baltar's left forearm.

"It's busted." He reported, moving his fingers to Baltar's wrist for a pulse.

Amorak's stomach turned as the smells of the crash tore through her nostrils. The smell of burned skin on the doctor, some tinged hair, and a noxious, repugnant smell almost like burning plastic caused her to dry heave, bend over, and cough it out.

"He's alive," the gruff Raptor pilot informed her while doing a quick visual inspection. He looked up at her and flicked off his helmet lights and popped it off with a snap-hiss. "Can you hand me the med kit, sir?" He asked. "I don't see anything wrong with him… sir… could you check the instruments in the cockpit, see if we can figure out where the frak we crashed?" The last request barely made it out before his voice turned hoarse and he started violently coughing. "It looks like Baltar's injured…"

"What about-"

"He's dead. Fruity's dead."

Amorak looked towards the cockpit and saw the side of his head. He was sitting perfectly still, and through the thing gray smoke she could see the red crimson blood dripping from behind his ears and onto his olive-drab flight suit. Rubbing her eyes she fought back a tear for her friend, swallowed and sucked it a breath and reached for the first aide kit.

Her fingers curled around the handle, barely gripping it and not expecting it to be so heavy, Amorak almost dropped it when she pulled it loose from its harness.

She stepped out of the way and let Nikon work. "You're trained for this?"

"I did AMER…" he paused and looked up, "and a refresher course… but…" he grabbed Baltar's wrist and fiddled with the flightcomp, maybe it would somehow have magically fixed itself by now. "I think he has internal bleeding… hand me that." He pointed at a small black device, a portable ultrasound.

The Major nodded and handed him a portable ultrasound- to cauterize internally lacerated blood vessels- and stood back. Working in the lab she did have the Advanced Medical Emergency Response training the Raptor pilots, especially Raptor-S pilots, had but hadn't taken a refresher course in the last eighteen months. The first aide equipment was designed to be used with minimal training but she stood back, awkwardly fiddling with her hands, as she stood stooped over Baltar.

Nikon stopped and after hanging his head looked up at her and towards the cockpit. He couldn't have her lingering back here and as much as he didn't want her to see Fruity's burned face- she didn't sign up for this- he needed her in the cockpit.

"Can you check the cockpit, see if we can fly?" Nikon asked as he looked up and then stripped off Baltar's flight suit, to the waist, and lifted up his gray and brown tank tops. There was black and blue bruising running from the scientist's armpit almost to his waist.

The major yanked open an access panel which had been smoking and felt her shoulders slump as the hopelessness of their situation was made visible. Even if the Raptor was in condition to fly the entire guidance and control system was shot.

She could build a damn Raptor with enough parts and time but she couldn't will melted circuits and smashed electronics back to working order.

Amorak leaned back on the seat and rubbed the back of her neck with her good hand. She worked her hand over and then under the stiff metal collar before grimacing and then fiddling with the locking mechanism and tossing it off to the floor. Moving slowly to the cockpit she finally let herself fall into the pilot's seat. Her hand knocked some knob, driving the hard plastic between the bones of her hand, she winced and recoiled. Rubbing her hand she looked over the busted control panels.

Swallowing hard she found the courage to look over at Fruity. He was slumped to the side, his head bent and resting on the Raptor's frame. He was blue already. Slowly she looked around the cockpit and then leaned over to him. Carefully she grabbed his chin and opened his mouth…

"I already did it, sir.... we always keep few obol's under the central console, in the netting." Nikon pointed.

She stopped and looked at Nikon and their eyes met for a short, too short, second. There was enough pain in his eyes for them both. She'd only known Fruity a few months but Fruity and Premie had been friends for almost two years, flying buddies, pilot and ECO.

Jessica closed Fruity's mouth and she saw the faint glitter of a polished obol, a coin, to pay for the boatman. She looked out past the cracked cockpit and the gray smoke waffling up from the melted nose of the Raptor. There was a green and blue world outside with a forest full of trees and tall grass and colorful flowers. Jessica was grateful that at least his body could be put to rest on such a beautiful planet rather than atomized by an explosion… they had crashed in a meadow, on the edge of that forest.

Then she remembered. They'd been investigating the radiation signature. The Raptor had come in slow and done a low-powered FTL jump into high orbit over the planet. They saw a debris field floating in orbit, a massive field, maybe eighty or ninety kilometers with a large ship which looked distinctly like a pyramid straight from Virgon. It had been dotted with craters and clearly blown apart and had just been floating there, lifeless. They'd investigated and moved in slowly and somehow had been jumped. The next thing she realized they'd crashed.

She pawed at the controls- knowing they wouldn't work but had to try- and nothing happened. Leaning down in her seat she tried found the button for the backup batteries and… nothing. She closed her eyes and groaned in defeat then reoriented herself and cranked the little hand powered device which would produce about ten minutes of electricity for the control board… she smiled in reluctant triumph when the console beeped to life.

"OH FRAK OH GODS!"

The major jumped at the outburst and swirled around and Baltar was screaming and grabbing at Captain Nikon's arms, trying to push him away, pull him in, push him away, and then he tried to scurry to the back of the cabin. The large pilot grabbed both of Baltar's arms and pinned him to the deck.

"Doctor Baltar, remain calm," Nikon said in a voice which was completely calm, with no fear, no apprehension. Nikon sounded totally separated from his emotions as his training kicked into overdrive at the sight of a panicking civilian. "How do you feel? How is your head?"

The scientist blinked at him and remained perfectly still. A look of dread washed over him and he tried to prop himself on his elbows, only to fall back down from the pain.

"Oh gods…" he whined. "I don't know!" He flung up his left arm and hit the flightcomp display with his right.

"Anything up there, sir?" Nikon shouted over his shoulder at Amorak. "Oh… does this-" he pressed on the bruised area very gently.

"-hurt! Frak!" Baltar yelled. "Of course it hurts!" he scowled at the man and silently cursed him as a fraking meathead idiot.

"Hold still…" Nikon reached into the med kit, unzipped a small duffel and he took out and grabbed a small self-injecting battlefield syringe and pressed it onto Baltar's leg. "You um, you've got internal bleeding…" His hands worked quickly to tenderly inspect the injured scientist. "Hold on…" Nikon searched for something and smiled. "Hold still… this will help the ultrasound to coagulate the blo… damnit, hold still," he held Baltar down, "I need to inject you at the bruise site… this will hurt but you might bleed inside before we get rescued…" Nikon waited until the doe-eyed, scared-as-all-frak scientist acquiesced, after a brief and fierce protest, as his own death was certain if he didn't comply. "Alright, let's do this."

Nikon held the self-injecting syringe, which was filled with a room-temperature coagulant formula Tauron had developed during its civil war. Battlefield bleeding resulted in a significant number of deaths, especially with the deadly weapons the Colonies used to fight each other, before wounded soldiers could get to aid stations and field hospitals. The coagulants would work, temporarily, and anything more than two shots within twelve hours could send the soldier into uncontrolled disseminated micro-coagulation which would, ironically, lead to even more bleeding and then death.

Premie prayed Baltar's internal bleeding wasn't as bad as he thought it could be, but there was no way to be sure. The Mark I Eyeball wasn't very effective at looking through objects. The Raptor-S was also only equipped with basic medical supplies.

He let Baltar grab his arm and as he brought the syringe closer Baltar spontaneously grimace, winced, and dug his fingers into Nikon arm until he felt like the scientist would claw it off. Slowly, and with a whimpering scientist, his arm was released.

"Captain? Captain!" Amorak shouted from the cockpit. "Get up here!"

Nikon rushed up. "What do you have, sir?" Reflexively he started tapping at the DRADIS but the whole system was shot. She grabbed his shoulder and he was close to shouting but saw her pointing. The captain looked up into the sky and saw three ships, two looked like fighters and one like some weird… triangular pyramid shaped thing, slowly moving towards them. "Oh frak."

The fighter engines rumbled overhead like some sort of jet engine mixed with a race car, producing a strange hard mechanical whine.

"We gotta get out of here." He scurried back to the cabin and stopped to the side of the ECO console. He pawed in a code for the small arms locker pressed between the console and the rear bulkhead. The Raptor-S, while about the same size as the standard Raptor III's, even with added electronics, had more room for storage because it eliminated seating. "Here, major," he pointed at the medkit, "grab the medkit. The camo backpacks, grab those they have survival kits." He also tossed down a small camo fold-out stretcher for Baltar, just in case.

Major Amorak nodded and dutifully did what she was told and tossed in the med kit into a backpack and slipped it over her shoulders, tightening it until she felt the tip of the pack press against the back of her neck.

There were two thoughts circulating furiously through Nikon' mind. The first was to make sure the eggheads were alright. They were the most valuable and as their pilot it was his duty to protect them. Second, the fighters that had just buzzed the crash site looked awfully similar to the one that had shot at them in space. He hadn't been able to get a good look due to it coming from behind, but he'd gotten a glimpse when the Raptor had spun on its nose and corkscrewed for nearly a hundred kilometers before he'd been able to get it back for a 'controlled crash.' And it just didn't feel right, either.

His gut had saved him more than once before and by gods he was going to listen to it again. It does have a proven record, he thought as he activated a small self-destruct on the side of the ECO console. The electronics were classified and as soon as they left incendiaries would melt everything of worth on the Raptor-S to molten, glowing orange slag.

Just as he was opening the arms locker some distant and massive explosion shook the ground and rattled the Raptor, throwing Jessica into his arms and pinning him against the bulk head. Nikon saw a pillar of black smoke follow and then consume an orange-red fireball in the distance. It was hard to tell, but whatever had just exploded had been both huge and far away, maybe five or so kilometers.

"What was that?" Baltar asked, now struggling to stand with Amorak's help.

"I have no idea," Nikon whispered, staring at the distant smoke, the major still in his arms. "Oh, sorry, sir," he sounded sheepish and helped her off him.

Captain Nikon frowned and turned back to the arms locker. There were two Tanis AP-9 battle rifles and two spare pistols with magazines. He handed a pistol and belt to Amorak and he grabbed the AP-9s and shoved everything he could into a duffel backpack and threw it over his shoulder and put an arm around Baltar to take him from Amorak and was grateful Baltar could walk and didn't need the stretcher. He slipped it over his shoulder just in case.

"We were scheduled for a four hour recon… and we've only been gone twenty-nine minutes," he checked his watch. "I'm going to set the demo charges, blow and melt the equipment to slag… we make for the tree line. Don't stop until you get to the trees. Understand?"

"Wait!" Amorak threw up her hands and shoved the equipment back to Nikon. She rushed up to the cockpit, on the pilot's side and yanked out a small hard drive. "We can't leave without the DRADIS logs."

"Ready now?" Nikon hissed, curtly shoving a battle rifle and a backpack back to the major.

Amorak nodded as she clipped and secured the pistol belt. She slowed her breathing. Nikon nodded back, gripped Baltar firmly around the waste, and hit the hatch release.


AN: Thanks to all those who reviewed/added the story to favorites/alerts. I appreciate any feedback so let me know what ya thought. Since this was a short chapter the next one will be up shortly (3 to 5 days).

The Colonial dating system I am currently using is following the first twelve letters of the Greek alphabet for the time being.

One guess as to who caused the big explosion at the end of the chapter. ;-)