XXV
On the southern end of the line, General Dalbott, his troops, and the Muskets were again efficiently churning up what was in front of him. What he didn't know is that he had approximately nine-thousand combatants in front of him, while there were maybe six thousand on the western slopes facing General Trevor. That had happened overnight, as Caleb Ridge had maneuvered more troops facing south and had done so quite smartly with little noise and little lost movement. Caleb had told Clevin Monteith that he was trying to trade bodies for some time. He was still hoping he could hold the slopes to the north at a stalemate while trying to put up a fight on their southern front.
So far, it wasn't working.
Dalbott's forces weren't going quickly, and the enemy was fighting back, but the forces from The Kingdom had no answer to these small, deadly guns that spewed out death in tiny, explosive cylinders. They were spread so evenly along the front there was just no getting through them.
In most conflicts, sheer acts of bravery, even if it means one's own life, were what sometimes changed a battle, even if for a short time. Such would be the case now.
To the west of the center line of General Dalbott's front was located, a group of a dozen or so fighters from The Kingdom was huddled behind a large rock formation. Directly in front of them and a little to their left was one of those damn guns that were death for anyone in the way.
No one would ever know their names, for they would not survive for much longer. Yet tired of falling back, one of their members rallied them to move at an angle toward the gun. They were mounted on a small vehicle that had a pneumatic swivel which would let the guns face in any direction. It was now 0635 of what had already been a crazy day, unbeknownst to them, but the sudden fire to do something had taken hold of them.
After discussing it a few minutes they had a plan. A few of them had serviced similar-looking artillery pieces before and were confident they could figure it out. They were dead if they did nothing, so it was better to die trying.
After a volley from this menacing machine, it took a few moments to reload. Six of their numbers dashed toward the machine in the haze of morning light still mixed with shadows of the night, hoping to catch the soldiers unawares. They made it to the vehicle, amazingly without being detected.
The first shot from them took out the driver of the vehicle; the remainder took out the crew servicing the weapon. The other six had been making their way slowly from the other side of the vehicle and took up position behind the gun to protect their comrades who tried to figure it out. After a few frantic moments, they had figured out the contraption and had swung the turret in the opposite direction, toward the troops that were about a thousand feet to the rear all laid out before them. This motley crew quickly loaded the gun, sealed the breach after it was aimed at the UED troops, and they fired into the midst of those soldiers. They were rewarded as a few dozen in the open ground directly behind them went down like lifeless rag dolls. The gun was reloaded, and another round was fired to the southeast, into another band of approaching soldiers, tearing them to shreds. The drive of the contraption turned the vehicle westward and in a matter of a minute, was able to spot another of the guns. Again, the weapon was loaded and fired this time directly at the other Musket. The vehicle, the weapon, and its occupants were riddled with shrapnel that exploded on impact.
They got two more shots off, taking down again at least two dozen more enemy fighters before a contingent of Dalbott's troops were able to bring them down with rifle fire, killing all twelve in a matter of moments.
Yet they had done some significant damage: they had killed, in that eight-minute span, one-hundred-and-six soldiers, wounded perhaps that many, and destroyed one valuable weapon the enemy possessed.
They knew in the long run, it probably wouldn't change the outcome, but they died knowing they might have given their people some time.
0900, Aboard The William Adama
For this early in the day, it had already been a terribly bad day for Admiral Lee Adama. The fighting wouldn't stop this time-not if he could help it, not even after sunset-but UED had taken an awful body blow that morning. Lee was certain they would still win and hopefully win long before Louis Hoshi's fleet arrived.
Yet he knew if they took more body blows like this, it would be tough slogging.
And yet Lee wasn't the most shaken person on his ship: his CAG was.
Commander Nicholas Bond had been onboard the Flagship, following the exploits of his Raptors. He would be flying down with his own squadron later. That had all changed within a short forty-minute span.
First the news about Captain Abdullah, taken out by a sniper. Then on the heels of that, he had lost Cory Mathers and her crew. He had lost his two principal lieutenants and now would have to reshuffle his air command. There were no real rookies flying in this fleet, but not many had been truly tested in battle.
He needed to put aside his grief for his two friends, and the other two who had been killed and began to reorganize. The next in line for Second-In-Command onboard the Adama was a twenty-eight year old from China, who was going to be a Captain in short order. Her name was Lian He, call sign Venus. She had been slated to go in with Nick that afternoon, but now she would be reassigned to, at least for the moment, flying a ready Falcon above the battlefield.
The choice of who would be number two behind him and the CAG aboard the Roslin fell to Lieutenant (and also soon to be Captain) Elam Baskin, call sign Jericho, from Israel, who had joined the UED Middle Eastern command out of high school. Both were excellent pilots but with nowhere near as much experience as either Sandstorm or Sundown.
He had recalled Cory Mather's squad and had them return to the Laura Roslin for a debrief. He advised Admiral Adama and General Grayson that he needed to quickly reset his command before going back down so everyone was on the same page. Lee assented, but the offensive, minus the Raptors, continued.
When Cory's squad landed back on their ship, all of them grim-faced despite the fact they had immensely helped the cause that day, were met by Admiral Baltar, Commander Bond, and Captain He.
The debrief didn't last more than forty minutes, simply so everyone had the scorecard straight of who was now where in the command structure. Captain Baskin had selected Lieutenant Jozef Pryzwara from Poland, Call Sign Pops, as his second. Within the hour, Nick was back on the Adama, preparing for his own squad's pass over The Kingdom in search of more guns.
Through all this for the last few days, Kara Thrace-Bond and Elaine Baezos had made excellent strides in getting Kara's mind back on track. The strategy of simply letting Kara talk about anything and everything was working. Dr. Baezos could see the confidence returning to the Admiral. It had only been five days since the incident that had blindsided her, but Kara herself was feeling much better.
More importantly to her family, Gaius Baltar and the neurosurgeons had come up with a surgical treatment for her father to remove the plaque that had been building up on his brain, which was the most likely culprit for his memory lapses and his body shakes. The crown of the former Governor's skull would be removed and a small device put to work to send short bursts of energy into the plaque, allowing it to be loosened from the brain, then to be gently removed. It would require hours, even with their advanced knowledge of what they were dealing with. The former Governor would be under total sedation for at least forty-eight hours, once the procedure was complete and his skull sutured back on. The procedure would begin any time now onboard the Laura Roslin.
Kara had been informed about her father's procedure, and Dr. Baezos assured her that she would be able to visit him when he awoke and was coherent. Until that time, the good Doctor stressed that Kara keep talking and letting everything out.
This day she finally turned to her long-ago romance with the man who was now infamously known as The Crown.
"You have to remember something, Elaine", Kara said with lingering shame at who she had been in the past, even if it was still a part of who she was, "I didn't really like myself back then. I felt, thanks to dear old mom-my real mom, obviously-that I wasn't worthy of love or praise. Nothing was ever good enough. The only way I found any acceptance, if that's what you want to call it, had been running the streets from the time I was fourteen. At sixteen I was given the choice: jail or the military. Later that year, I met Zak Adama, who treated me like I was worth something."
"How long until you two became engaged?"
"Six months", Kara said, with a small smile. "We were so good for each other. Even though we were the same age, by the time our engagement had been cemented for a while, I was already a flight instructor. And...and I passed him when he didn't belong in a cockpit, and he died on his first solo."
Kara was long past the tears, although the Doctor could see the grief was still close after all these years. "I went back, for a short time, feeling like the misfit: drinking too much; fucking anyone I felt like; letting my mouth get me in trouble.
"The night I met Clevin, I admit-and I admitted to him later-I was looking to get inebriated and to get fucked, simply to deaden the pain and at the same time try to feel something beyond hurt. I didn't expect to run into such a great guy. And he was a fantastic guy, in every way. We simply let our relationship settle in. We had talked about the future, but I told him I wasn't ready for that next step. He understood and told me to take my time, that he would be there."
The Doctor looked her straight in the eyes. "Then the Cylons came."
"Yeah", Kara almost whispered, "the Cylons came. I thought he was dead, he certainly thought I was dead, so we both grieved. Me? I went back to drinking more again; to having a revolving curtain in my bunk; my insubordination got so bad that I slugged our XO and ended up in the Brig. It was the only way I knew to cope."
"Yet there were a few who were special on the journey over, weren't there?"
Kara nodded. "Yeah, Lee and I had the most messed-up relationship. We were very attracted to each other even when I was engaged to Zak. We were good at sex, but we never would have survived as a couple. Finally, just before the battle with The Colony, not long after his wife had committed suicide, I told him we couldn't keep on like this. And I haven't even mentioned I was married to Sam Anders at the time. I was never unfaithful to Sam, at least not physically, although in my mind..."
Kara stopped to hydrate herself. "I loved Sam. Yet he could always sense I still had a thing for Lee, and that killed me. It killed me because he was right. Sam died in the fight with The Colony, and after that, I pretty much forswore any romantic involvements. Yes, I had a few boyfriends, but it didn't last long. I dedicated myself to the one thing I was very good at and that was being a military officer, and I finally started to act like one."
"And yet", the Doctor ventured, "here you are, all these years later, and you come full circle and you find out that Clevin Monteith is in command of an enemy you're fighting?"
"Yeah, amazing, isn't it?" Kara gave a derisive laugh. "The old gods must be cursing me for converting to Christianity or something." Then she became more circumspect. "It's just something you can't explain-kind of like me becoming a member of the Bond family. It was fate. I can't just believe in fate when it deals me a good hand. It's simply beyond anything that makes sense."
"And how do you feel about him, right at this moment? Also, how do you feel about you at this moment?"
Kara looked out her window into the nothingness of space. "Honestly? Most of me hates him for being in charge of these nuts. Part of me is happy that he survived The Holocaust and actually has made it through everything. Part of me wishes he had come up to Galactica that week for the decommissioning and been there when the war started. Part of me still...still loves him for what he meant to me." She looked at the Doctor and again gave a rueful laugh. "Covering all the bases, I guess."
The Doctor shook her head. "Not at all, Kara. That's actually quite normal. The two of you obviously had invested a lot in your relationship back then that even now, after all this time, it affects you so deeply. It's just a matter of processing that information and moving on."
Kara huffed a loud sigh. "I've seen so much shit since The Holocaust. A good friend turned out to be a Cylon, then she became a good friend again later; I had a love/hate relationship with another Cylon of the most fucked-up kind; I marry a guy-turns out he was a Cylon; I supposedly have a Viper blow up in front of Lee, but two months later I fly home without a care in the world; I had a Cylon hybrid tell me I was the harbinger of death. I mean, I've seen stuff that most people could never imagine.
"So why in the hell does this hit me so hard, and at this time of my life?"
"Why do you think that's the case, Kara?"
Kara gave her a sideways grin. "Dad warned about that with you." They both chuckled. She stopped to think for a few moments. Then she looked at the Doctor with wide eyes, flush with a new discovery. "Because it was something good and beautiful and wonderful, what Clevin and I had? Because it was something almost anyone could understand and relate to? Because all the horror or wars past are now facing me in a very personal way?"
Elaine Baezos smile. "That sounds about right. Kara, you reacted that way because you had something that, had it been able to play out, might have led you into a totally new direction, even aboard Galactica fleeing in space? There's no way to know, and that's why this has hit you so hard."
"It's that easy, huh?"
The Doctor shook her head. "It's taken us five days to get there, Kara. Five days of hours upon hours of you talking and me perhaps guiding you a little to get to this realization. The realization is half the battle. It's how you come to terms with that realization that will determine how you get beyond this."
There was contemplative silence for some long moments, Kara, at last, glancing up at the therapist. "I want to get these people on the mountain off of there. It's too important for the future of the Twelve Colonies. Yet I don't want to see or hear that Clevin has died. I hope, somehow he survives this." She held up her hand. "Not because I think we can recreate what we had. It's been too many years for that, but simply for the sake of what we had at one time. I'd like to see him be able to have some peace, and for both of us to come to terms with this."
"That's the beginning of coming to terms, Kara", Dr. Baezos said finally. "I think in a few days I'll be able to clear you for duty. I think you need to decompress for at least a more few days, just going over all we've discussed, then I'll see you one last time in say, four days. At that point, I believe you can go back to duty and focus on what you need to do as far as being an Admiral of The Fleet is concerned."
Kara hadn't realized until that moment how utterly exhausted she was mentally and physically from this whole process. The Doctor was right. It was time to focus inward the next few days. "I am beat, I have to admit", she chuckled. "I didn't know talking could wear one out so bad."
"It isn't the talking, Kara", the Doctor pointed out, "it's all the emotional and turmoil behind the words. You're an extremely intelligent woman. I'd say, all things considered, you've done a remarkable job in such a short period of time."
With that the two ladies departed, Kara giving Elaine a long, warm hug of appreciation. The Doctor checked with Admiral Adama who informed them that her father was still in surgery, so Kara took her leave to be with her mother.
Commander Nicholas Bond and the squadron of six other Raptors that had descended after Cory Mathers and her crew had been lost, had found the other two guns that were ensconced under that particular camouflage and had taken them out of service. Two had been hit with SAM's, but both had escaped to fight another day. Yet when he arrived back on the Flagship, Admiral Lee Adama was there to meet him.
Lee's message to him was brief. "After pilot debrief, I want you in my quarters, understood?"
Nick knew what was up. "I'll be there, Boss", he said firmly, Lee giving his almost-brother a clap on the shoulder.
Nick stuck to business at the debrief, which lasted forty minutes. Another squadron from one of Galen's Raptor Carriers would start another search for more guns. Despite the fact that Nick was sure every gun in that emplacement was out of commission, General Trevor reported shells still falling on his front.
Nick took a quick shower, then headed to the CO's quarters. "Reporting as ordered, Sir", he said with a neat salute.
Lee waved him in the chair. "It's just you and me, Axman, so it's me, Lee, got it?" He smiled at the younger man, pouring him two fingers of bourbon. When he slid the glass across the table, he raised his own. "To Raekwon and Cory", he said in salute.
"To Sandstorm and Sundown", Nick responded sadly. "May the Good Lord take care of them."
"So say we all, Nick", Lee said as they both finished their drink in one quick gulp, Lee pouring another.
"You trying to get me drunk, Lee", Nick said, trying to put a little levity into the day.
"Only in your most disgusting dreams, Nick." They laughed loudly. There was silence for a moment. "On a scale of one to ten, Nick, this day has been like a minus two. We've had problems everywhere."
"Beyond our losses with the air wing?"
Lee nodded. "You've been tied up, so I know you haven't been briefed. Some of the fighters of The Crown somehow hijacked one of our Muskets on the southern front, and they did some incredible damage in under ten minutes before we killed them."
Nick put his second drink down before taking any. "What kind of damage?"
"Over a hundred KIA, about one-twenty wounded. They destroyed another Musket, and the one they used is now in need of repair."
Nick picked the drink back up and pounded it down his throat without a word.
"Have you ever seen one of those Muskets work, Nick?"
Nick shook his head. "No, can't say I've had the honor of watching one."
Lee looked grimmer still. "It isn't an honor. It's one of the most horrible, destructive, yet very effective weapons I've ever seen. They chew up the largest of trees; they cut human beings in half; they can even blast through boulders down there after a few tries. It's hideous." Lee followed Nick and pounded his drink back.
The two men went over the day's action in a much more clinical manner after that, keeping the emotion away as much as possible. There would be time to mourn in the near future.
"I know I can't take you out of the rotation, Nick, but I can move your rotation back till the same time tomorrow." That made Nick look concerned for a few moments. "It's nothing that you've done, but you need to get over to the Roslin and spend some time with your mother and any other family members that are over there right now."
That thought hadn't occurred to Nick all day. "Jesus, I hadn't even thought that dad's undergoing surgery today." He almost felt like requesting another drink but decided against it.
"Duty first, commander", Lee reminded him. "It isn't easy, but it's what we train for. I had to put out of my mind while on Pegasus in '27 that Galactica was being blown to bits, and that dad and a lot of other people I cared for were on there. We have to compartmentalize sometimes. Don't kick yourself."
Nick knew Lee was right, and that it was actually a high compliment. "Then if you don't mind, Admiral? I'd like to head over to the Roslin."
"You're dismissed, Commander", Lee said as they saluted. As Nick turned away, Lee stopped him. "Nick?"
"Yeah, Boss?"
"Please give your mother my best as well as a hug and a kiss for me? Same if Natalie or Abby are over there now a well. You can skip Brett, much as I love the guy." He snickered at his CAG.
Nick, feeling much better, laughed in return. "Will do, Lee. Cya soon."
2300 Hours That Evening
General Thomas Dalbott had taken a two-hour beauty rest as UED began to switch into a twenty-nine hour, around-the-clock operations. His Second-In-Command, Commander Brady McKellan had been watching the front for a few hours. As the Commanding General of this sector, he didn't get much sleep as it was, and he would get less still over the next few days.
Before closing his eyes for a short while, he and McKellan had plugged the holes in the Musket line, resetting the spacing of the deadly machines. They had been the only weapons of that kind that had been built up to that time on Earth, meant to, among other things, rip through Toasters should the Cylons ever show up again. Hoshi had commandeered them all for Lee. Hoshi himself would bring about eighty of the infernal things with him, just in case.
Their start point had put them approximately seventeen miles from The Kingdom, or the main town thereof. They had hacked away four miles in the four days of combat so far. It was slow going, even with the deadly artillery he owned. The enemy was getting hurt, and hurt badly, but what they had, they used. The Kingdom had some RPG's, but they were older and didn't shoot as well as they once had. They had damaged two other Muskets, but not enough to take them out of play. The cost in lives-on both sides-was mounting.
What would change things on his front is when they were approximately ten miles south of The Kingdom: that would put them in range of the guns that outfit had. That was probably their maximum range, but it would change his thinking and that of General Grayson, of that there was no doubt. In all likelihood, he would lose a few more Muskets, and certainly more men and women under his command.
Unless the air campaign could find the remaining guns, which no one in UED knew exactly how many were left, had been located and destroyed, his front would get, as he told General Grayson earlier that day, "good and well fucked", at that time, Grayson not disagreeing.
Yet he knew the air wing had lost two of its best pilots that very day, a huge blow to his good friend, Commander Nick Bond. He knew Nick well: he knew the slightly older man would leave the grieving for later, just as he had done for Rick Londhal and Annabel Marisio who had perished in his own Raptor crash two years before-the very event that put this conflict in motion. He would do his job, and do it with everything he had in him, then pick up the pieces later.
Right now, he had his own command to deal with. Going over to around-the-clock ops was no easy task when there weren't reinforcements available. That's why it hadn't been done until now. But with an assassin on the loose, who could do serious damage to the command structure, it had been decided to put more pressure on these mountain folk.
Commander McKellan had been at the real-time display, tinkering with the deployment as they went into their first night combat mission. He hadn't had any battle experience before this conflict, but he was tough and level-headed, which is the way Dalbott like it. He wouldn't crack under the pressure if Dalbott himself met the same fate as Henrich Otter.
As Dalbott headed back to the command post, a steaming coffee in his hand, his right-hand man spotted him. "I've adjusted the placements slightly, based on the movement of the enemy. We've been as quiet as we can, Tom, and I don't think they're expecting a party tonight."
Dalbott looked over the display, glancing up and down the line on the large computer screen. "I think that looks good, Brady". I don't see any problem with this deployment. And you're right", he added with a smile, "our friends always see us moving around at least a little at night, so I believe in a few hours, when all we hear are some of the varmints howling or chirping, they'll be a bit surprised."
"Let's hope so, sir", McKellan said earnestly. "I want this shit to finish up so we can look forward to the trip home."
"You've got that right, Commander", Dalbott agreed. "I'd like some R&R before we shove off for Earth. But one thing at a time", he reminded McKellan and his other subordinates around him. "No dreaming of Hawaii or Fiji or Aruba back home, or gals and blokes in skimpy swimwear." That made them all chuckle, which is what he wanted. "Let's keep our minds on the job and finish this shit up, as the Commander said, as quick as we can." He paused for a brief moment, looking at his watch. "It's 2320 now, we begin the show in forty minutes. Stay quiet, stay sharp. Get the word out to the field."
With that, Dalbott dismissed them. "I tell you Brady", he said with a sigh, "I don't like having to kill other Human Beings. UED wasn't formed for that. We were put together to take on the fuckin' Cylons, or maybe if someone like the Klingon's show up, not people who aren't a whole lot different than us."
McKellan nodded sadly. "It's the old poker saying: you gotta play the hand you're dealt."
"You Yanks are spot-on with that saying, my friend. That's why I want the hand tonight to be the beginning of a bunch of hands that are all Royal flushes."
The two men went silent then went back to look over their dispositions once again.