"Targ, Selix, can I get a hand up here, please?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cally, how's he doin'?"

"Not good, sir."

"Get a blanket on him, keep him warm."

Socinus was, indeed, not doing well. His pulse remained shallow and steady, but his breathing was getting irregular. Sims turned to his lancejack.

"Hey, Sullivan! What're we gonna do now?"

"About what, sir?"

"Everything."

Callie was still within earshot, but Sims didn't care. She pulled a blanket over his friend, doing her best to keep him alive.She looked up at the marine, her eyes pleading. Save him. Save me. Sullivan was still thinking.

"I dunno, sir. Maybe intubate the kid, throw him on a stretcher and pray to the gods that we can make cover by nightfall."

"Yeah, I was thinking 'bout that too.We've been here almost twenty minutes, which is ten minutes too long for my taste."

"We're lucky we haven't been strafed already."

"Yeah. Gather everyone up, we'll head towards those wooded hills to the ...uhh...what direction is that?"

"Damned if I know.I was too busy crapping my pants to really notice. Frack, they were close on the way in, eh? "

"Yeah, I hear you. Okay, get the supplies, get Tyrol and Seelix to carry the stretcher she and Targ made. We'll hide in those woods, in the valley or something. This flat land isn't doing us any good. We'll have access to the high ground if he need it, plus that river over there, right Sullivan?"

"Aye aye, sir."

Sims fiddled with his vest, looked around. Crashdown was still fooling with the rescue wireless, Tyrol and Callie carefully moving Socinus onto a makeshift stretcher. Sims slung his submachine gun over his back, walked over to the ranking officer. Sullivan was rooting through the first aid kit, looking for a trach tube.

"Yeah, gunny?"

"We're moving out now, sir. Towards those forested hills."

"Hey, asshole. I don't remember issuing those orders."

Sims gritted his teeth. This isn't the time for pride. This is the time for survival. Do or die, flyboy. The lieutenant was fiddling with an unencrypted radio receiver on a hostile world. Sims wondered why he simply didn't wave a flag clearly labeled 'PLEASE SHOOT US'.

"Sir, please put that away, we need to get moving NOW."

"You're dismissed, gunny."

Sims looked over his shoulder. Everyone was watching now. Callie was staring, wide-eyed. Tyrol had his arms crossed over his chest, and Sullivan was reaching for his sidearm in case things got rough.

"Socinus is hurt, bad. Look, Crash, you can stay here with that bullet magnet you're holding on to, but the rest of us are leaving. "

"Frack you, marine. Everybody, hold position."

At this point, Sims shoved his squat, five-foot-nine bulk right in the pilot's grill. His helmeted face was inches away from the pilot's. His left hand swung down, batting the radio from Crash's hands. His right rested on his combat webbing, thumb looped behind a right-angle flashlight.

"Move, or be moved."

Crash pushed the shorter marine, and cranked back his fist for a roundhouse punch. It never landed. Sims' right elbow swung up, smashed into the side of the pilot's neck. Crash went limp and collapsed from the brachial stun.

"Targ, help this wannabe up. We're moving out, double time."

He reached down, pulled Crashdown's sidearm from the holster and slipped it into his webbing. He shouldered his subbie, scanned the horizon before turning back to everyone. They were looking at each other as if they expected the marine to start shooting any second. He stared right at Tyrol. The older man held his gaze a moment, then nodded.

"You heard the gunny, we need to move NOW. Those hills are about three miles away, and we need to get there before the Cylons figure out we're here. Callie, grab the first aid kit..."

Everyone was moving, as Sims and Sullivan positioned themselves on the outside of the group, like sheepdogs. Their job was to make sure everyone got to the hills safely. Before they could get themselves organized, there was a roar off in the distance. Three raiders swooped low over the ruins behind them. They were far, but it simply reinforced the urgency of the situation. Everyone broke into a run almost right away. Sims and Sullivan did their best to keep everyone together, guns up and scanning ahead of them.

It took little time at all for everyone to start panting. Callie was beside the sergeant, head bobbing as she ran with the medkit. She kept pace with him, despite the fact that it obviously appeared to be causing her a fair amount of discomfort. Her singed hair bobbed along, just within reach of his gloved hand. He caught her looking up to him, smiled and winked. She struggled to smile back, mouth wide open as she tried to suck down more air. He swatted at her playfully, thumped her gently on the back before calling for a rest.

The raiders sounded closer to the marines. They knelt in the high grass as everyone tried to catch their breath. Sims figured the hills to still be two miles off, which was quite a distance. The enemy was closing in, and cover was still a fair ways away. Marines could be expected to run that far with full gear in fifteen minutes. At a dead, balls-out run Sims and Sullivan could have been there in twelve minutes. The civvies, however, were all horribly out of shape. They had run the first three miles with a great deal of trouble. The deck crew were a little better, but all of them were now sprawled out on their backs. The marines knelt, keeping watch for Cylons.

"Up and at 'em! C'mon, people, let's MOVE!" Sims yelled.

It was fifteen minutes of hell. The raiders were within sight now, slowly cruising around the ruins about a mile off of the wreck, in the opposite direction they had come from. The sound, the sight of the sleek craft gave everyone the adrenaline needed to make the treeline. Crash was too tired to complain as he stumbled into the shade. Sims and Sullivan urged everyone further forward, further into cover. They staggered about another two hundred feet into the conifers, and collapsed as the earth started to rise up sharply into a small mountain. It was heavily wooded, the trees almost blocking out the sunlight.

Sims sat down, put his head between his knees, and tried not to throw up. Once the nausea had passed, he looked around for himself. It wasn't a bad spot to make camp, and since everyone was there already, he figured they may as well. He looked to Tyrol for confirmation. The chief had his eyes closed as he panted and gasped, head rolling. Socinus was still on the makeshift stretcher, and Crashdown was busily vomiting ten feet away. Sims took off his helmet, and started counting everyone. He didn't get past a count of four before Seelix interrupted him.

"Hey, where's Baltar?"