Authors Note
Next Chapter, here we go! All mistakes are mine!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters what-so-ever, so please don't sue. If you're still keen on suing me, then do it over the story that you think is the best. Leave me a little bit of ego as I go to prison.
Sickbay,
Battlestar Galactica
"5 more arriving!"
Cottle turned around in dismay, watching five wounded being rolled into the sickbay, some moaning in pain, others silent, unconscious and oblivious to the situation they found themselves in. Cottle remained calm, glancing over the bodies, seeing which ones needed immediate surgery, which ones would last a few minutes unaided.
"Prep him for surgery," he announced, pointing at a body, badly burned and littered with shrapnel, "and find space for the others somewhere. They can last, but this man needs immediate attention."
"Sir." Ishay nodded at his orders and rolled the injured man behind a pair of curtains. Cottle moved quickly over to a trolley, pulling on a new pair of clean gloves. He had been on his feet for too long, but there was no other help available to him. Traffic throughout the fleet had been stopped for the battle. He was on his own.
"Frakking stupid sons of …" He muttered angrily. Operations around the clock, every minute had a new man sent in, either in need of stitches, surgery, amputation-
The last thought made Cottle shudder slightly. If there was one thing he hated in his medical career, it was performing amputations. You took part of a man's body, you took part of his soul. The amount of times Cottle had removed a limb, to find a dead, haunted look in the patients eyes afterwards. They couldn't go back to their previous duties now, not in that state. Military protocol wouldn't allow it, not even in this ragtag fleet.
"Sir!" Ishay called from behind the curtain, "he's prepped and ready and-"
Her voice slowly got quieter, ending in silence, an unfinished sentence hanging in the air. Cottle looked at her enquiringly, wondering what could bring the young woman to a halt so quickly. They had people dying around them, surely she noticed?
"If you hadn't noticed," He barked at her, trying to regain her attention, "we're in the middle of a frakking crisis! If your brain has decided to go on holiday then-"
He sighed in resignation. This wasn't working. She was focused on something else clearly, and he soon noticed that he was the only one, aside from the suffering moans of the patients, making any noise. Cottle turned around, ready to get to the bottom of this distraction, and found himself looking into the face of another doctor.
He wasn't part of the fleets medical staff, Cottle knew that much. In fact, he looked very familiar …..
"Frak." Cottle announced aloud, staring into the docile eyes of the doctor before him. It was Simon, one of the significant seven cylons. He looked different when he was healthy. Last time Cottle had seen him was when the Cylons were ravaged with a disease.
"If you want medical assistance, circuitry is that way." The old doctor stated, pointing out the hatch that Simon obviously must have entered.
"I've been sent to help you." Simon stated softly, looking around at the men in pain, crying out weakly.
"You want to help us?" Cottle asked him, fixing the man with an intense glare. Why would a cylon want to help a human? There had to be something more. Then he saw it. As Simon looked back, Cottle saw pain, real pain. Sympathy for the humans surrounding him. A look of knowledge, realisation. He genuinely wanted to help.
If he wants to be worked off his feet, then go for it, Cottle thought to himself, regarding Simon.
"Frak it," he suddenly announced, moving over to the trolley he previously obtained his gloves from and pushing it towards the Cylon, "if you want to help, then scrub up and fast! A patient over there needs some assistance and gods help me I'll trip your fuse if you sabotage me!"
Simon just smiled, nodded and set about getting to work.
"Lords of Kobol, hear me prayer," Cottle muttered, pulling back the curtain of the man he was about to operate on, "I need a cigarette."
Colonial Raptor
Heading towards Enemy Cylon Basestar
Kara clicked a button to her left, opening up a comm. channel with the enemy basestar looming right in front of her. She could see missiles loaded, exiting the basestar rapidly, streaking over her raptor, heading towards the fleet. It was gut-wrenching, watching the missiles pass her by, not being able to do anything about it. She could only hope that the fleet had jumped away by this time.
A sudden blast of sound emerged from the comm., and Kara focused her attention on persuading the cylons to let her onboard their ship.
"Brother Cavils, this is Starbuck. I request permission to come onboard."
She was met with silence for a few minutes, before an amused voice replied;
"Kara Thrace? Didn't I have the pleasure of meeting you on New Caprica? Yes I remember now, right before Leoben took you to play happy families with him. I offered you my hand in greeting. Now, what was it you did in return again? It always seems to slip my mind…"
Kara gritted her teeth, annoyed. She remembered that day, and she knew that Cavil asking this question meant that persuasion was going to be tough. They were obviously waiting for an answer, and Kara fought back her anger as she replied;
"I spat on your hand." There, now just shoot me if you're going to.
"Ahhh that's right, I remember now. The memory has just … shall we say, rushed back with startling clarity. Now Kara, what made you think that we would actually consider letting you onboard?"
"Because I have something you want." Kara retorted, wincing as the dull ache in her stomach flared into shooting pains. She couldn't afford to sit and debate with them.
"It must be something grand. Afterall, you wouldn't come all the way out here, risk your own demise just at the chance that we would accept this … gift?"
"I know the way to earth."
The channel went quiet, but she could make out muttering, hurried voices, urgent tones. She hoped to the gods that they would believe her.
"That's quite an offer. How do we know you're telling the truth though?" The cylon speaking held a guarded tone, his voice conveying disbelief and cynicism. They wanted directions, over the comm. They were obviously going to have a hard time negotiating.
"You don't." Starbuck stated easily, shifting slightly in her seat, yearning for a more comfortable position that didn't place so much weight on her wound.
"Then why should we risk letting you onboard?"
"Good question. You could blow the hell out of my ship right this second, but you won't."
"You're awfully cocky. That's a big mistake. Why won't we?"
"Because there is a possibility that I do know the directions, and that you could reach earth. Of course, by killing me, you'll never know, and will be forced to search for it on your own for the rest of your miserable lives- at least until your batteries wear out." She added thoughtfully on the end. She was done talking, and she pushed the raptor forwards. If they let her on, then they let her on. If they didn't, then she'd plough the raptor right into their ship. She wasn't too fussed either way.
It looked like they weren't going to answer, and Kara resignedly set course for the wing of the centre basestar. Maybe she could take out more than one. She was startled out of her calculations, however, when the comm. started to crackle, indicating it was about to receive another transmission.
"Permission granted Starbuck," The Cavil announced in his calm voice, "come onboard."
"On one condition," Kara said, pausing a beat before giving them her condition, "I want to see the Hybrid first."
"Deal, now get onboard."
"ETA, one minute. Starbuck out."
Her plan was starting to come together.
CIC
Battlestar Galactica
"Sir, a colonial raptor has just boarded the enemy basestar."
Admiral Adama looked towards the ensign behind him, confused. Where the frak was Dee? The ensign looked towards him, waiting for orders. Adama shook his thoughts away from his petty officer's whereabouts, and moved quickly towards the dradis console. A bang echoed throughout CIC, causing many of the crew members to stumble, bracing themselves against various equipment.
"Have you been able to get through to D'anna?" Adama asked, looking towards his temporary XO, Karl Agathon.
"No sir," Helo replied, his hands gripping the console, "No replies. It's like they've got a death wish."
"They're taking too many hits. Why would they purposely move in front of us?" The Admiral murmured, looking up at dradis at the flashing red dot that indicated the cylon basestar currently in front of them. His gaze snapped back to the crew around him, "I'm not going to wait to find out! Helo, tell the fleet to spool up their FTL drives. We'll rendezvous at emergency coordinates."
Helo moved away, ready to send the message throughout the civilian fleet. Adama's eyes flickered towards the hatch to CIC, spotting something red flit past the door. A marine then entered, followed by Laura Roslin. Her stride left no doubt that she was in control, but as her eyes met Adama's, she couldn't mask the slight pain, not from him.
"Admiral." She acknowledged him, moving towards the centre of CIC to where he stood. Her eyes told him everything; Not now.
He understood, and gave a slight nod, replying, "Madam President."
"The cylon basestar, what is it doing?" She enquired, searching for answers.
"We don't know. D'anna is not accepting our requests for an open channel."
"Shouldn't we help them?"
"We've sent out all the vipers we have, but they're in our firing solution."
Roslin nodded silently, able to do nothing more than to stare at the cylon basestar on dradis, willing it to move, to get out of their way.
"Gods help them." She murmured to herself, and was surprised to hear Adama's deep voice close by, answering her plea;
"So say we all."
A/N
Well there is chapter 36. Hope you've like it. Chapter 37 up soon hopefully!
Reviews are appreciated.