Part 29
Getting up again after the massive hatch closed, and the Cylon patrol left, was about the most challenging thing that Apollo had ever done. The throbbing in his leg was excruciating, and he eyed the backpack hesitantly, knowing that while the hypospray was out of local anaesthetic, a similar supply of effective analgesic was still only an arm's reach away. It was a dilemma. While the pain relief would be a godsend, he really didn't want to be dealing with solenite while under the influence of narcotics.
Supporting any weight on his right leg was almost unbearable, but somehow Apollo forced himself to keep moving, setting the final few charges and activating them remotely to complete the circuit. It took every bit of concentration he had to keep focused on the task before him, and not rip open the med kit. He gritted his teeth, refusing to let out the groans that fought to escape. It was as though his own pain was now the enemy. He would not surrender. He was a Colonial Warrior, and would not allow his own weakness to overcome his need to achieve his objective. Sacrifice was part of the job. Mastering weaknesses and refusing to give in to them were expectations. He was trained for this.
He sniffed humourlessly, trying to remember any other inspiring words that various instructors and superior officers had drilled into him over the yahrens, which Starbuck would dismiss as "so much felgercarb" when worst came to worst. Still, the reality was that the reasons didn't matter. Finishing the job was what they did, and they would do it for God and the Colonial Nation until they drew their last breath.
Enough? Ready now?
"Yeah," he murmured to himself, at last finished. He extended his arm, this time reaching for the pack with a shaking hand and pulling out the hypospray one more time. His fingers felt almost wooden as he selected the setting for analgesic, and pressed it against his skin.
Whoosh!
He closed his eyes, feeling the drug wash over him like a warm, welcoming wave of comfort, keeping the agony at bay, at least for a little while longer. He needed to get out of the launch bay, making sure that he was far from the solenite. He glanced at his chrono. It was less than a centar before the attack would begin and this base would be blown to Hades Hole. He had less than that to find Starbuck and get out of there.
He ignored the sudden wave of dizziness that swept over him, and the aching thirst that demanded to be slaked. Later. Pulling on his pack, he began to slowly and determinedly retrace his steps, trying to figure out where Starbuck would head if he had indeed escaped, and how his friend would get there if there was a Base-wide search out for him, and sections were sealed off. Logically, he would try to rendezvous with Apollo, but how? Glancing upward as he reached the rope connected by a grapple, it hit him.
He wouldn't!
"Oh yes, he would," Apollo murmured with a smile.
