Chapter Twenty-Eight
Compared to the frenzied state of things aboard the Endeavour, the makeshift Life Station in the medical shuttle was paradise. Apollo caught himself sighing aloud with the sudden climate change, as he paused in the hatchway to peek at Starbuck. If the lieutenant was sleeping, he wouldn't disturb him. His friend had looked like the deepest level of Hades Hole the last time the captain had checked on him. Or rather the underside of the same. Not princely, or sun-godly, in the least.
Apollo held up a finger to his lips, as Luana noticed him. She was still at Starbuck's side, her fingers loosely clasped in his. She nodded and glanced back at her dozing husband. Husband. Lords, it was still difficult to imagine Starbuck as anybody's husband. But the one-time heartbreaker had finally fallen helplessly, hopelessly in love. And Apollo couldn't wipe the smile off his face.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Starbuck murmured at him, his eyes half open, his voice slurred. He was still ashen, and apparently feeling the effects of a blood loss that hadn't been fully replenished due to limited supplies of his blood type. He swallowed slowly, and then shuddered, closing his eyes and holding his breath for a moment before finally focussing on the captain again. Apparently, his nausea was persisting.
"What's what supposed to mean?" Apollo headed forward, innocently wiping his grin from his face. He leaned down beside Luana, and kissed her on the cheek. "I never did get to kiss the bride."
She smiled up at him, squeezing his hand affectionately for a micron. Then a familiar devilry sparkled in her eyes. "By all means, give me a few for the others."
Apollo chuckled, leaning over Starbuck. "You . . . are in trouble."
Starbuck merely smiled in that self-satisfied way of his, before glancing at his chrono and asking, "What's happening?"
Apollo frowned, unable to help looking upwards. "The Galactica and Dorado should be in the thick of it by now." He met Starbuck's gaze, knowing exactly what he was thinking.
"I can't believe we're sitting this one out." For a guy who professed to never volunteer, he looked downright miserable about it. "Doesn't seem natural."
"I know," the captain replied quietly. "We didn't even get to infiltrate this time." They were always leading the attack force in some way, shape or form. Not sitting on the sidelines.
"Are you two a couple squadrons short of a Battlestar?" Luana asked them, narrowing her eyes at them and shaking her head at her husband's condition. "Shall I remind you that we still have a comet bearing down on us very shortly, and now we can't even launch the shuttles. After all, if we head towards the Fleet, it could give them away, or if we head out to space, it could draw attention here, and to the Endeavour. The last thing we need is that Base Ship in our laps."
Apollo nodded. She was right. From the resigned look on Starbuck's features, he'd come to the same conclusion.
"Does Baker need to be in the Base to control the wormhole?" Starbuck asked suddenly.
Apollo nodded, letting out a sigh. "He says, yes. If he doesn't close the wormhole, there's nothing stopping the Cylons from following Dickins and Hummer. If not this ship, then . . ."
"Frack that. We'll stop them." Starbuck replied, sitting forward and wincing slightly with the sudden motion. "Remember back at the asteroid base? Dayton said blowing those Dynamos concurrently would have taken out the base, the Galactica, and everything in between. You set a couple of those Dynamos to over-energize simultaneously after the Endeavour goes through the wormhole. Instead of closing the door, you . . ."
"You blow it to Hades Hole," Apollo nodded, his eyes lighting up as he considered the logistics. "But the timing would . . ."
"Would have to be perfect." Starbuck nodded, his face animated. "But the way I remember it, it takes a while to fire those babies up. It could give Baker . . ." He looked at Apollo knowingly. "Baker and you the time you need to get out of there."
"It would be close in a shuttle, Starbuck." Apollo murmured, sucking in a breath between his teeth. "Baker's a civilian. And a guest from Earth."
Starbuck shook his head. "Not a shuttle. I've fully qualified both Dayton and Baker to fly Vipers in the sims." He raised a hand. "Yeah. I know it's not by the manual, Apollo, and he's never pulled any cockpit time, but letting him take a Viper is the best chance he has. It's the best chance we all have to get everybody out alive on our end."
Apollo nodded soberly. It was the other end he was more worried about just now.
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"Beautiful, Bo! Hit her again!" Dorado shouted, as their pulsar blast hit on target, sending molten chunks flying from the other ship's hull. A quick look at the scanners told him he'd succeeded taking out one of the Hades-class Base Ship's two long-range mega-pulsars. A whirl of explosions from the centre point arced outward in a glorious display of metallic firestorm. It had been a strategic necessity. Not only was the newer ship more powerful and better armed, it had longer range. "Launch Vipers!"
"Launch all Vipers." Cree called into the commlink. On one monitor he watched as the launch bay's door began to open. Almost at once, the first Viper emerged into space.
"Might I suggest engaging our defensive shield?" Malus inserted, once again linking with the mainframe, yet hesitating at he awaited Dorado's permission.
"We have one?" Dorado blinked. Wilker had assumed they were nonexistent in this Research vessel.
"We Cylons are known for irritating other Races from one end of the Empire to the other," Malus reminded them. "Defences are, therefore, mandatory."
"All Vipers launched," reported Cree.
"Shield up!" Dorado hollered, as Bojay fired again on the orbiting killer.
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"What in Cylon. . ." exclaimed Lucifer, as the deck rocked beneath him. Lights flickered, and sparks flew from a console. "What happened?"
"The-other-Base-Ship-has-attacked-us."
"Brilliant, you oaf! I know the other Base Ship has attacked us! Fire control, maximum shields! Full alert all weapons stations!" Lucifer ordered. He felt as though he'd slipped a diode. This ancient Abaddon that was long overdue for the scrap yard was attacking them. The Base Ship shuddered as she took another hit. Klaxons screamed. "Damage report?"
"Portside-mega-pulsar-destroyed," the centurion replied. "Airlock-lost. Alpha-Deck-Section-eight-sealed." A pause. "Damage-to-Gamma-Bay. Extent-unknown."
"Return fire!" Lucifer ordered. "All secondary batteries commence fire!" He watched as Moray did so, but the salvos were falling woefully short, their targeting badly off, as the Abaddon ship pulled back with surprising speed.
"Harrower-is-out-of-range-for-our-batteries. Altering-course-to-engage-starboard-side-mega-pulsar."
"Affirmative. Advance on Harrower. And launch a squadron of fighters when ready."
"By-your-command." Then the whole vessel shook again as another shot from the Harrower connected. Less forceful, further away, but they felt it all the same. More alert lights flashed across the control boards. "Forward-turrets-report-fighters-launching-from-Abaddon."
"What of it, Centurion?"
"Fighters-appear-to-be-of-Colonial-origin."
"What?"
"Fighters-appear . . ."
"I heard you the first time!" shouted Lucifer. As he looked at the screen, he couldn't believe it. A Cylon Base Ship was launching Colonial Vipers against him! "Get Baltar up here! Now!"
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"They did it, sir! The Base Ship is turning about, Commander." Tigh reported.
"Now that's precision shooting, Tigh!" Adama nodded approvingly. "Who would ever have thought it."
"Commander, long-range scans indicate Raiders are launching from a single bay, on a vector for the Abaddon. There's no indication as yet she's seen us, sir," Omega reported.
"The residual wavelons from Dynamos could still be scrambling her sensors. It will leave her vulnerable on our approach." Adama replied. "Take us in. Delta 1-8. Battle stations!"
"Yes, sir. Battle stations!" Tigh echoed. "Seal all compartments!"
Throughout the huge warship, hatches sealed and emergency bulkheads closed. Damage control parties hurried in preparation, Life Station was a whirlwind of activity, and every member of her crew rushed to their designated battle station. Every weapon mounted on the Galactica's hull drank in energy from her huge energizer, ready to unleash it at the foe ahead. As everyone scurried to prepare, Cain watched approvingly. It had been a long time since he'd been on the bridge of someone else's Battlestar as they prepared for an attack. Oh, to be back on the Pegasus right now!
"All sections report ready for attack, Commander," said Tigh.
"Range to Base Ship?" asked Adama.
"Fifty microns and closing, Commander. We will be in visual range in four centons."
"Commander!" said Athena. "Incoming message from the Pegasus."
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It had probably never happened before in his life, but as he stood there, regarding Dick Dickins—a man he had come to know like a brother in the last thirty years—he couldn't think of a single appropriate thing to say, as the other prepared to launch the Endeavour into a wormhole that could either destroy him or deliver him and Hummer to Earth with a vital message that could potentially save their homeworld from the Cylons. It was pretty heady stuff. Maybe that's why he resorted to . . . "Break a leg, Dick."
Dickins smiled and grasped Dayton's hand, shaking it firmly. He'd already said his farewells to the others. "I broke Apollo's arm in hoverhockey the other day. Does that count?"
"Why the hell not?" Dayton grinned. Then his features grew solemn. "Dick . . ."
"Let's skip the maudlin goodbyes, Mark." Dickins frowned. "I'll see you on Earth when you arrive. Take care of our guys. And yourself."
"Well, I'll try. And you . . . keep a table warm for us at Randy's, okay?"
"You got it. Brewskies and steaks, just like always," he grinned.
"With onions."
"Right. Walla Walla Sweets, and plenty of 'em . . ." Dickins chuckled. ". . . to cover up the blood gushing out of yours!"
"You know me so well."
"After thirty years, it's no big surprise, Mark." He leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially. "And for God's sake, don't take too long about making an honest woman of Cassiopeia. She deserves the best that you can be."
"Sounds like a recruitment add." Dayton smiled, then nodded soberly. Dickins had a special bond with his lady, which had started upon awakening in the Galactica's Life Station four months ago. "I know she does."
"And heed Ryan," Dickins smirked. "He's usually right."
Dayton chuckled. "So he keeps telling me."
With a nod and a slap on Dayton's shoulder, Dickins turned and followed Hummer into the Endeavour. Moments later the hatch closed, and they were all backing away from the Orbiter shuttle as she prepared to launch with Colonial engines that would propel her towards Earth, providing the wormhole worked and the old bird came safely through the other end. Dickins had ordered his passenger to suit up, not entirely trusting that the newly fitted window had had sufficient time to set properly. He would begin running her through the pre-flight checks any second.
Dayton made his way towards a Colonial Viper while others prepared to board the shuttles, which would deliver them to a safer position in orbit of the planet . . . if there was one, considering the size of that rock heading towards them. He looked up, to where the comet now filled a huge area of the sky. Personally, he had his doubts, but admittedly he had less experience with comets than the Colonials. He still wasn't sure how he had managed to convince Apollo that it was absolutely necessary that he be in that Cylon Ground Base, alongside Baker, to watch Dickins make this ultimate sacrifice to save Earth. Maybe it was something to do with friendship, duty and allegiance. All were certainly values that Apollo understood. This would be Dayton's first solo, and would indicate to the Strike Captain if Baker—the better pilot of the two, or so Dayton had claimed—could cut the Colonial mustard. Dayton could almost convince himself that his eloquent speech, mixing the usual confusing colloquialisms with fact—as well as a smidge of bull shit—had nothing to do with him wanting an opportunity to fly one of their birds. Almost.
He turned one last time, shielding his eyes against the setting sun, knowing that Dickins would be going through his final checks. Last-minute modifications should enable him to almost single-handedly fly the shuttle, with Hummer and a languatron at his side to read instruments. He just hoped that Dick wouldn't need to use the 'special addition' they'd made to the shuttle at the last minute. He let out a deep breath, shaking his head slightly, as he felt Paddy's hand rest supportively on his shoulder.
"Godspeed, Dick . . ." Dayton murmured. "Safe home."
