A/N: Wow, I saw Valley of Darkness, and I never realized that black flak vests were the new red shirts. Continuation!
Seelix sniffled. Baltar was talking to himself as he hefted supplies onto his back. Sullivan and Callie were taking five. Everyone was about ready to go. Seelix's words, though calm and quiet, rose above the bustle.
"He's not going to make it."
"Huh?"
Sims turned around. Seelix wiped at her eyes beside Socinus. She gestured helplessly at the young man as he struggled to breathe.
"He won't, Gunny. He's too far gone, the meds got here too late, or the damage got worse. If we move him, we'll kill him outright. If we stay put, he's got a day, max."
"Max?"
"With the meds, with surgery."
"Gods."
"Sir...we should make the suffering stop."
Sims nodded. He wasn't a veteran of any of the wars, but he knew when it had to end. Memories of a childhood pet surfaced. He pulled his sidearm, made sure there was a round chambered. Tyrol leaped on him.
"Gunny...Gunny, let me do it. He's my man. I'll do it."
Sims saw the pain in the Chief's eyes. He nodded, offered the man his weapon butt-first. Tyrol just backed off, put up his hands. Not like that. Instead, he went to the medkit. He talked quietly to the young man as he prepared a heavy-duty overdose of the morphine. Everyone watched, horrified and broken. They knew it had to be done, and Seelix muffled a sob. They hated it anyways.
"Hey, buddy. It's Chief. How ya doin'?"
"What's goin' on, Chief?"
"Well, you know. Just listenin' to the birds."
Socinus groaned in response. Callie was rocking back and forth, transfixed. Targ was dead, sacrificed for what? Socinus was dying anyways.
"I, uh... I got a little somethin' for the pain. Good news, buddy."
Socinus's eyes darted open as the powerful drugs rushed through his system.
"We got a rescue party here. The raptor just landed. We're gonna put you on it, take you back to Galactica. Okay?"
"I'm goin' home?"
"Yeah. You're goin' home. "
His eyes closed. Tyrol wiped furiously at his eyes.
"C'mon, we still need to get moving. Lancejack, get the el-tee, would you?"
Sullivan grumbled, his despair manifesting as anger. He none-too-gently hefted the flyboy to his feet, slashed the zipcuff.
"Listen and listen good, motherfrakker, because I'm only saying it once: do. Not. Frak. With. Us. Me and Sims haven't been sleeping good, and you're stupidity isn't helping. We have no problems perforating your ass on short notice, so don't give us a reason. Now, git. Go."
The lieutenant tried to look defiant, failed, and hefted his share of the supplies. Sims just watched, and took lead. What else could he do? Callie followed him, strap of her rifle digging into her shoulder. Seelix, Tyrol, and Baltar followed, with the crew chief trying to provide security for the center of the line. Crash was very carefully covered by Sullivan. They all marched off, hoping to outpace their implacable foes. Behind them, the wind pulled at the dead man's hair.