Part 25
Providing a distraction proved to be more difficult than Apollo had at first thought. The most obvious course of action was to use a solenite charge to draw the Cylons' attention, however, blowing something up in the hangar or nearby would also announce his presence, ultimately bringing even more unwanted attention. He needed something more subtle . . .
The overhead ducts he was using as a passageway irritatingly took him over central areas of the hangar, leaving him exposed if he repelled directly down to ground level, but at least he could visualize everything as strategic diversionary ideas formed, and were systematically rejected. To top it all off, he couldn't get rid of the fuzzy feeling that was clouding his thoughts, probably indicating blood loss, or infection. Or both. Well, at least he wasn't hearing things any more. Then again, "subconscious Starbuck" might have an idea that hadn't yet occurred to him.
The blare of a klaxon suddenly propelled the Cylons into action, as they scattered to to their respective battle stations, in response to their commanding officer's orders. Instinctively, Apollo made his decision. He shrugged off the pack, grabbing the grappling gun from within, and loading it, while methodically connecting a line. He quickly pulled the backpack in place, and fired. Due to the constant din, he couldn't hear the firing mechanism or the grapple drive home as it connected with a tylinium crossbar in the upper superstructure. He sucked in a breath as he tightly gripped the rope and then took a running jump.
He couldn't help but let out a whoop of joy as exhilaration swept over him. It was like some kind of action scene from a favourite holovid as the hero swung through the Cylon hangar, while below him centurions scurried about in an oblivious frenzy. The Lords of Kobol were smiling down upon him, and his triumph at hitting the suspended metal walkway he'd been aiming for, more than overshadowed the pain of impact.
Well, almost.
Apollo let out a string of curses through clenched teeth as he slowly pulled himself over the rail, collapsing onto the deck. Forcing himself to ignore the agony in his leg, he pulled in the slack of the line, tying it off on the rail. He let out a frustrated breath as he considered this newest problem. If he fired his laser, he might sever the rope, but more than likely he would just cause a ricochet effect, damaging something that would get noticed, and once again calling attention to himself. He had to hope that the distracted Cylons wouldn't look up and notice that anything was amiss as he infiltrated their hangar right above their unsuspecting metal heads. If he continued along this walkway, he could access the massive motors that opened the hangar door, and set timed charges that would permanently disable it.
Of course, he would give just about anything to know why the klaxon was going off. The Cylons below seemed to be diverting resources within the Base. Two platoons were lined up, and within microns were funnelling out of the hangar. It couldn't be the fuel or ammo dumps; he would have heard them go up. Whatever it was, it couldn't be an outside attack, equally noisy, which led him to believe that either one of the other two teams had been discovered . . . or Starbuck had escaped.
And while the idea of the former caused him to cringe, he almost whooped again at the latter.