Chapter 11: You didn't even try
I don't know whether it was what I said to Captain Adama or just some really thoughtful person in the galley, but a few minutes later someone came in with a huge amount of coffee and hot food. I was glad of it; I needed that to keep going. I felt like I was running on fumes. But as my belly got full, I started feeling lethargic. I was just at the point of having to actually fight off sleep when the radio squawked. "Colonial One, I can't believe you want us to leave these people behind." We shared a look. "What's going on?" Yellowstone asked.
"A lot of the ships in the convoy don't have FTL drives," Derrick said softly. "If the Cylons find us, we have to leave them behind."
"No," Sarashiko leaped to his feet. I don't know what he planned to accomplish. I heard the radio going on. We were jumping and abandoning thousands of people with no protection at all, to save our own hides. It was Helena all over again, and it felt just as bad even though I wasn't the one choosing this time. If the President had given that order, if she had the sense and guts to do it, we might just survive.
That kind of cruel desperation was no good thing for our future in terms of morals, but it might be our only chance.
In my head, I never even considered that it was illogical to kick myself for Helena and admire the President. But I didn't blame myself, or not really. Not in my own head. I regretted it, but I had done the only sensible thing at the time.
One look at Jesse's face told me not only that he didn't see it that way and probably never would, but also that he would never trust our new President.
"Lieutenant!" I grabbed his elbow and swung him around to look at me. "You can't do a damn thing. If the Cylons have found us, those who can run have to or we die. Clear?"
He stared at me like I was speaking another language. "Look at me," I ordered him, and out of the corner of my eyes I could see everyone turning to look at me. "Sarashiko. Dancer. It's called saving as many lives as possible." Behind me the radio conveyed someone's desperate shriek that there were Cylons approaching. A ripple ran through us and we were not where we had been. The FTL jump didn't bother me; I barely noticed. I heard Jesse losing his coffee into a hastily proffered bowl. "Sorry," he said weakly. "Sorry."
I didn't turn around. From so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, I was now wide awake, every nerve thrumming. "Mourn them later," I told him. "You'll have plenty of time. Right now we've got to get your ships ready to fight. Look at me. Get angry if you like, but get angry at the Cylons. Then get angry at the people who made them. Don't get angry at us. You've no right to, and I won't stand for it."
He stared at me. I felt like only the last part had penetrated. "You won't stand for it?"
"Yes. I won't stand for it. You've no right. Now finish your meal and get back to work." I looked around. "All of you. It's a time of war, ladies and gentlemen. We can't revive the dead. So act like the living, and maybe you'll stay that way." I caught the look on Jesse's face, and my heart twisted. I knew I'd just lost my best friend forever. I felt horribly lonely. "Derrick, how do you want to go about getting the working Vipers transferred to the Galactica?" The ship shuddered.
"What was that?" Jesse asked.
"What's the Galactica got to do with this?" Gallow asked.
"The Galactica was going to Ragnar Anchorage. That means we'll have gone there as well. It's the only logical place to go, the only place we can find a warship to protect us. The Ragnar Anchorage is partway down in the planet's atmosphere. My grandfather talked about it a few times as he got older. He said it had some nasty chop." The next jolt slopped Kambosi's coffee.
"Finish up and get moving," Derrick ordered. "We've got to get the ships slung and all the usable parts boxed up for loading."
I watched them as they worked, and felt that one more big demand on them and they'd break, or be so exhausted they'd make mistakes and die. Being a fighter pilot is not a good way to live a long time. I'd known them less than a day and I didn't want any of them to die. Not the dim slow Gallow, not the wry Kambosi, not the inventive Derrick. Not even the handsome and incredibly rude Sarashiko.
When the transport came, I'd half-expected I'd ride with them and get a chance to keep working on the Vipers, yet there was barely room for the pilots to squeeze in elbow-to-elbow. I waved goodbye to them and shut the hatch before they could ask anything. I felt like a part of me had died. I wanted to stay with those Vipers. I'd put in barely ten hours of work on them and I didn't want to let them out of my sight, to trust them to other people. I started to understand why Grampa waffled on so about the bonds formed between people and machines.
I shuddered. Where the Cylons people, or machines? Could they be both? Or somehow, neither?
Jesse put a hand on my shoulder and I jumped. "What do we do now?" he asked me.
"We clear out the cargo bay for the refugees," I said. "They need the room. Then we find a bed and sleep."
"That's it?"
"Well, unless you've got a better idea, yeah. Barring another battle, we can't do anything to help the Fleet now, so we do something to help the ship. There are more than three hundred people on board who need beds and food and space to live, and more on the other ships where they're jammed in like sardines. One of our bedrooms can sleep six people, think about that. Think about the equipment we'll need to give everyone showers and food and drinkable water. Think about the work it's going to take to keep us going." I looked at him. "Even if you won't help, I will."
He nodded finally. "Alright. But I'm not doing it for you."
"I never thought you were," I said. He winced.
"Did you have to kill Helena?"
"No."
"No."
"No. I could have died along with her. Those were the only two options."
"You could have waited. We were looking for more rope, enough for her to grab it."
"Would you have found it in ten seconds? We barely made it out of there before the decompression caused permanent damage, and you'd have been hauling up twice the weight."
"You didn't even try."
I did one of the hardest things of my life. I looked him in the eye and I told the truth. "You're right. I didn't." I wanted to run away and cry, I wanted it more than food and a bath and sleep, but I kept looking at him until he swore and walked off.
Grampa always said war changes you. He was so right. I wished he was wrong.
I don't know whether it was what I said to Captain Adama or just some really thoughtful person in the galley, but a few minutes later someone came in with a huge amount of coffee and hot food. I was glad of it; I needed that to keep going. I felt like I was running on fumes. But as my belly got full, I started feeling lethargic. I was just at the point of having to actually fight off sleep when the radio squawked. "Colonial One, I can't believe you want us to leave these people behind." We shared a look. "What's going on?" Yellowstone asked.
"A lot of the ships in the convoy don't have FTL drives," Derrick said softly. "If the Cylons find us, we have to leave them behind."
"No," Sarashiko leaped to his feet. I don't know what he planned to accomplish. I heard the radio going on. We were jumping and abandoning thousands of people with no protection at all, to save our own hides. It was Helena all over again, and it felt just as bad even though I wasn't the one choosing this time. If the President had given that order, if she had the sense and guts to do it, we might just survive.
That kind of cruel desperation was no good thing for our future in terms of morals, but it might be our only chance.
In my head, I never even considered that it was illogical to kick myself for Helena and admire the President. But I didn't blame myself, or not really. Not in my own head. I regretted it, but I had done the only sensible thing at the time.
One look at Jesse's face told me not only that he didn't see it that way and probably never would, but also that he would never trust our new President.
"Lieutenant!" I grabbed his elbow and swung him around to look at me. "You can't do a damn thing. If the Cylons have found us, those who can run have to or we die. Clear?"
He stared at me like I was speaking another language. "Look at me," I ordered him, and out of the corner of my eyes I could see everyone turning to look at me. "Sarashiko. Dancer. It's called saving as many lives as possible." Behind me the radio conveyed someone's desperate shriek that there were Cylons approaching. A ripple ran through us and we were not where we had been. The FTL jump didn't bother me; I barely noticed. I heard Jesse losing his coffee into a hastily proffered bowl. "Sorry," he said weakly. "Sorry."
I didn't turn around. From so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, I was now wide awake, every nerve thrumming. "Mourn them later," I told him. "You'll have plenty of time. Right now we've got to get your ships ready to fight. Look at me. Get angry if you like, but get angry at the Cylons. Then get angry at the people who made them. Don't get angry at us. You've no right to, and I won't stand for it."
He stared at me. I felt like only the last part had penetrated. "You won't stand for it?"
"Yes. I won't stand for it. You've no right. Now finish your meal and get back to work." I looked around. "All of you. It's a time of war, ladies and gentlemen. We can't revive the dead. So act like the living, and maybe you'll stay that way." I caught the look on Jesse's face, and my heart twisted. I knew I'd just lost my best friend forever. I felt horribly lonely. "Derrick, how do you want to go about getting the working Vipers transferred to the Galactica?" The ship shuddered.
"What was that?" Jesse asked.
"What's the Galactica got to do with this?" Gallow asked.
"The Galactica was going to Ragnar Anchorage. That means we'll have gone there as well. It's the only logical place to go, the only place we can find a warship to protect us. The Ragnar Anchorage is partway down in the planet's atmosphere. My grandfather talked about it a few times as he got older. He said it had some nasty chop." The next jolt slopped Kambosi's coffee.
"Finish up and get moving," Derrick ordered. "We've got to get the ships slung and all the usable parts boxed up for loading."
I watched them as they worked, and felt that one more big demand on them and they'd break, or be so exhausted they'd make mistakes and die. Being a fighter pilot is not a good way to live a long time. I'd known them less than a day and I didn't want any of them to die. Not the dim slow Gallow, not the wry Kambosi, not the inventive Derrick. Not even the handsome and incredibly rude Sarashiko.
When the transport came, I'd half-expected I'd ride with them and get a chance to keep working on the Vipers, yet there was barely room for the pilots to squeeze in elbow-to-elbow. I waved goodbye to them and shut the hatch before they could ask anything. I felt like a part of me had died. I wanted to stay with those Vipers. I'd put in barely ten hours of work on them and I didn't want to let them out of my sight, to trust them to other people. I started to understand why Grampa waffled on so about the bonds formed between people and machines.
I shuddered. Where the Cylons people, or machines? Could they be both? Or somehow, neither?
Jesse put a hand on my shoulder and I jumped. "What do we do now?" he asked me.
"We clear out the cargo bay for the refugees," I said. "They need the room. Then we find a bed and sleep."
"That's it?"
"Well, unless you've got a better idea, yeah. Barring another battle, we can't do anything to help the Fleet now, so we do something to help the ship. There are more than three hundred people on board who need beds and food and space to live, and more on the other ships where they're jammed in like sardines. One of our bedrooms can sleep six people, think about that. Think about the equipment we'll need to give everyone showers and food and drinkable water. Think about the work it's going to take to keep us going." I looked at him. "Even if you won't help, I will."
He nodded finally. "Alright. But I'm not doing it for you."
"I never thought you were," I said. He winced.
"Did you have to kill Helena?"
"No."
"No."
"No. I could have died along with her. Those were the only two options."
"You could have waited. We were looking for more rope, enough for her to grab it."
"Would you have found it in ten seconds? We barely made it out of there before the decompression caused permanent damage, and you'd have been hauling up twice the weight."
"You didn't even try."
I did one of the hardest things of my life. I looked him in the eye and I told the truth. "You're right. I didn't." I wanted to run away and cry, I wanted it more than food and a bath and sleep, but I kept looking at him until he swore and walked off.
Grampa always said war changes you. He was so right. I wished he was wrong.