"Ohhhhhh...frak..."
Kara Thrace's return to reality around her was swift, unpleasant and dizzingly confusing. Everything had exploded around her, and she had reacted on pure instinct. She remembered diving into a recessed area in the hallway, curling into a tight ball ... and then feeling a flash as bright as the sun before her entire grip on the world had slipped away.
Her body had hit the reset button, and now she was dealing with the aftermath. Kara groaned, then cautiously stretched. Her head felt like someone had taken a drill bit to her skull, her skin felt like she'd spent 24 hours in the arid Picon desert, and there was so much dust in the air she could hardly breathe. But she could breathe, and nothing felt broken. Lifting her head, Kara opened her eyes, and realized the world around her had gone pitch black.
There was nothing, absolutely nothing. The first stirrings of fear and panic sunk into her stomach. She needed to be able to see and hear and feel. It was one of those few subjects she was an absolute bitch about. Kara Thrace and sensory depravation didn't get along real well, and anyone who failed to recognize that was due for a nice, swift kick in the balls.
"Hello?"
Nothing. With her heart pounding, Kara realized that included her own voice. She was blind and deaf. The logical part of her brain, growing smaller by the minute, knew that the explosion had probably overloaded every sense she had. She tried to argue with herself. Her sight would come back, her hearing would come back, and as soon as it did, she'd start to find a way out of this frakkin--
A rush of air streamed past her face, and then she felt rather than heard something fall across her chest. It didn't really fall on her, but it pinned her effectively back to the ground and knocked out any wind Kara had left. Logic went out the door, and she didn't care anymore about not hearing or seeing. She had to get out, get out now, she had to get out of this space before...
"Frak! FRAKFRAKFRAK!!!"
Kara screamed, loud enough to hear her own voice start to pierce her deafness. She swung at whatever was on top of her, at anything she could find. Her fists were clenched tight, practically begging for a target. When she didn't connect, she shifted her weight, and tried bucking beneath the beam. Anything to get her weight under her and get loose. She wasn't trapped, she couldn't be, she would find a way out of here and then she'd frakkin' kill whoever had...
The metal on top of her budged maybe an inch. Kara's breath came in harsh, ragged gasps as she pulled her arms beneath her and grabbed what had to be a support beam. She had to get out, had to get out NOW, even if she had to bench press every last piece of scrap metal on the Hephaestus.
Her sweaty hands slipped off of the beam, raking the skin on her palms and jamming her forearms up and into the metal. Unable to scream, she collapsed back against the floor, coughing and gasping for air. She couldn't bite back a whimper as she laid her head back on the floor, and screwed shut her eyes against the tears.
"Frak me."
Kara could count on one hand the number of times in her life she'd felt this helpless. And not once in the four instances had she been alone and completely without any help. Frak, right now she couldn't even tell if she was right side up or upside down. She might even consider the fact she was in Hell, except she didn't think it would be anything this nice.
Taking in a deep breath, Kara coughed on the smoke-tainted air and let out something between a choke and a laugh. The laugh was almost involuntary, and she could still feel the hysteria perilously close. A few more deep breaths and she almost had control over herself again. She wanted -- no, she NEEDED -- that control right now. She was scared, and she was scaring herself even further.
Gods, she hated this. The last time she'd been like this … she didn't want to think about it. It involved the two people she wanted right now, the two people she yearned for above anything else. The two people in her life that had never disappointed her or abandoned her.
Lee and Zak would have been able to fix this. Kara drew a shaky breath, and let it out with a shudder. Hell, the last time anything like this had happened, they HAD fixed it. Never would Kara have said there were things she couldn't handle on her own - at least not publicly - but they had literally saved her life that day.
Water, mud, no air, she COULDN'T BREATHE…Kara clawed to get a handhold, something she could lock her fingers onto and pull herself into the cavern of air she knew had been right above her only moments ago. The mud had fallen in her eyes, so she couldn't she, but she could hear the water roaring in her ears and she could feel the rock in the cavern with her hands. All she had to do was…
A hand locked around hers, and pulled hard. In the space of a second, Kara had bobbed up to the surface, her head coming above the water so she could get a lungful of air, a precious, grateful lungful…
And then the rock and the mud shifted around her legs again, and she was back under without a chance in hell of pulling herself free.
Then, and only then, did she panic. To hell with conserving energy and oxygen and every last lesson she'd ever learned about diving and cavern swimming. She needed to get free, she needed to get free now and she couldn't even get her legs to budge under the water…
Arms came around her then, hands slipping under her shoulders to gain leverage and pull her free. But it didn't help, and she began thrashing again. She knew she would hit whoever had jumped in with her, but she didn't care. She had to get free, her chest was burning and she felt ready to explode…
Suddenly, she was pinned, someone's full weight pushing her shoulders up against the wall of the cavern. Before she could even react, a smooth piece of plastic was slipped into her mouth. She tried to shake her head and then realized what it was.
Her snorkel. The one critical piece of equipment she had lost when the rock had crumbled underneath her feet and dropped her unceremoniously into the water, mud rushing over her face as her head smacked hard against the rocks. Cautiously, she tried a breath, and was rewarded instantly with a fresh rush of air. Gasping now, she let her body settle in the water, letting the other person next to her support her, his arms still wrapped protectively around her to keep her from panicking again.
So relieved was she, Kara didn't even notice when the second person slid into the water and began disentangling her legs from the quagmire below.
Kara snapped back to reality with a rush of adrenaline and a growing headache.
"Frak." She felt her head spinning slightly, and her body was starting to ache in too many places to really keep count. She clenched her hands tightly for a minute, then relaxed them. After repeating the gesture a few times, she started to settle back into herself.
She hadn't known it at the time, but it had been Lee that grabbed for the snorkel floating in the water. It had been Lee who pushed it back at her and calmed her panic while Zak - the more proficient by far in underwater swimming - worked to free her legs from the mess of rocks and mud that had momentarily trapped her. She never found out how long she'd been floating in the water; none of them ever thought to look at a watch afterwards. When Zak finally managed to free her legs, Lee had pulled her out of the water and onto what remained of the ledge in the Caprican searock cavern they had been snorkling in for two hours.
Kara had been beyond words, shocky, her legs too bruised and painful to even begin supporting her weight. Without saying a word, Zak had helped Lee get a good hold on her, and he let his older brother carry her out of the cave while Zak sprinted ahead to find help. Zak was the better athlete, so he had run. Lee had the strength to get her to the help his brother would find.
She had been 20 then, home from the Academy on leave and enjoying a calm summer afternoon at the ocean with her friends. She'd never gotten to go back into those caverns. By the time she had gotten the chance - and the nerve, though she wouldn't have ever admitted it to the Adamas - to return, it had been a year later. By then, the rest of the unstable rock had collapsed in on itself, and the entrance had been blocked by a mudslide.
When she looked at the broken remains of that cavern, Kara felt for the first time in her life a clear, terrifying sense of mortality. Thanks to Zak and Lee, all she'd suffered was a concussion and a broken ankle. Her thanks had been simple and respectful, but with the weight of all her gratitude behind it. Zak's response had been a boisterous hug, but even as she had been receiving it, she could see Lee smiling from over Zak's shoulder. That was his only response, and it was all she needed to see to know how he felt.
Same old Lee. Even then, he'd had such a lock on his emotions. He and his brother had been the steadying forces in her life for so long, even more so in her Academy days. Zak loved her, a simple unabashed love that showed in everything he said and did. He had made her glow with affection, made her desire something she never thought she'd need. He was open and uncomplicated and completely in love with her. That balance evened out much of her temperament.
But Lee ... Lee had always been her challenge. Or her challenger. She'd never really been able to distinguish between the two. He led, and she'd follow ... half the time. Or she'd push for the lead and he would be right behind. What he couldn't do well -- and she'd had to admit, there wasn't much -- she could pick up the slack. She could outfly him, outfight him and even outwit him occasionally.
But he thought better than her. His logic and Zak's emotion were the perfect balance in her life. With them ... Gods, she'd been happy.
And then, within two weeks, they were both gone. One permanently and the other might as well have been. She hadn't known how much she'd needed them, needed them both to make her life work like it did. And for two years, she'd fought to rebuild all the bridges -- all on her own.
Where were they now? Kara craned her head to the side, trying to fight off the tears she knew were coming. She needed them now, dammit, and neither one of them were here. A wave of hopelessness washed over her, leaving her irritated and upset at the same time. She didn't want to die, and she didn't want to be alone. She wanted one of them here to hold her, and another to go for help and she knew she couldn't have either of them. She was alone and no one knew she was...
"FRAK!" Out of pure anger and frustration, Kara clenched her right fist and swung out hard. The punch connected with something in the dark -- something hard, warm and unforgiving. A sharp stab of pain shot through her knuckles and then up her arm, numbing it for a minute. She dropped her arm back to the floor, muttering under her breath.
And then suddenly, Kara felt a rush of calm and realization. She could move her arms. There had been space enough for her to throw a punch. She'd done it earlier, but she was so wound up it hadn't registered. Kara felt a wave of relief so strong that it left her trembling for a moment. She could move.
"And if you can move, Kara, you'd better get moving." That fragment of voice flickered through her head so fast, she almost missed it. Lee's favorite admonition when she was in the Academy. She would get so frustrated and pissed off sometimes -- at a teacher, at a fellow cadet ... hell, even with Lee and Zak at their finest -- she almost literally couldn't move or think. Her instincts would take over, and she would act without stopping to use her head first.
Kara felt her face hitch a small grin. She still hit first and asked questions later. Lee would be so disappointed. And he'd still respect her in the morning.
Kara could hear him now, and she knew he was right. It was time to move.
"...eat...last...do...cop..."
Tyrol swore softly under his breath, and for at least tenth time in the last 30 minutes, readjusted the signal carrier on the headset. The damned thing just wouldn't hold the incoming signal from the Galactica for more than a minute at a crack. There was just too much frakking interference right now; the signal kept dissolving into static and then snapping back clear. Searching along the bandwidth trying to restablish it was eating at the last of Tyrol's nerves.
"Galactica, this is Tyrol." He was practically yelling into the headset now, trying to make sure every last word was clear. It was trying the last of his patience. "We are sending the last of the Raptors back to you, and are requesting turnaround time for the vehicles inbound. Repeat, when are they coming back?"
After a second, Tyrol heard Colonel Tigh's voice come through the comm. It snapped in and out of focus for a moment, and then came through almost clear. Tyrol clenched his teeth in frustration.
"Copy that, Chief." The signal was choppy, but at least this time he could hear every word. "There are two shuttles and one Raptor returning back to the Hephaestus. Figure 15 minutes before their arrival. Can you give us an estimate on remaining evacuees?"
"Negative, sir." Tyrol closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "We're still trying to get to most of the--"
A hand grabbed his shoulder. Tyrol spun around, and almost smashed into Captain Moore. The man had been occupied with assigning his crew and handling survivors. What the frak was he going to come up with this time?
"Sir, I've got something --"
"Not now, Captain." Tyrol tried to turn away, keying the microphone again to raise the Galactica.
"Galactica, we're still--"
This time, the hand didn't just grab Tyrol. It yanked him rudely in a half-circle, bringing him face to face with Moore.
"Sir, this needs your attention. NOW."
"What?!" Tyrol didn't even bother to keep the irritation out of his voice. If this wasn't legit, he might shoot Captain Moore out the nearest airlock himself. He had no patience left. None.
"We think we have survivors in the east hallway." Moore was almost breathless with something akin to excitement, and hearing the words, Tyrol began to pick up the emotion himself. "It's a secondary corridor, leading towards the area we have marked off as living quarters for the refugees. Sir, if anyone came out to take a look, or was even--"
"Can you hear anything?"
The captain looked confused. "What?"
"Can. You. Hear. Anything. Noises, yells, voices." Tyrol hated asking, but something nagged at the back of his brain. Something about time and effort and where he could best put his people. "Can you hear anything?"
"We think so, but we're not sure. Sir, your lieutenant may be in there."
Tyrol clenched his fists as his stomach tied itself into a tight knot and his thoughts wandered back 10 days. For a second, everything around him faded away and all he could hear was Colonel Tigh's voice.
"Seal off everything forward of frame 30 and start an emergency vent of all compartments."
"Wait, wait a minute." Tyrol couldn't believe what the Colonel had just said. "I've got over a hundred people trapped up behind frame 34. I just need a minute to get them out!"
"We don't have a minute!" The damned drunk bastard, he even sounded confident. Tyrol wanted to hit him. "If we don't get that fire put out now, we're going to lose a lot more than a hundred men. Seal it off! Now!"
"We just need a minute!" He was desperate now. Surely the Colonel would see if he just--
"We don't have a minute!" The anger was clear now, even to Tyrol. "If the fire reaches the hangar pods, it'll ignite the fuel lines and we'll lose the ship! DO IT!"
In the space of a moment, Tyrol's hatred of the Colonel had grown beyond all proportions. It had turned into a festering, boiling pit of emotions that Tyrol didn't dare shut off. He'd been fighting it -- and the anger that pulsed through his veins whenever he saw his deck crew trying to cope -- ever since. All he'd needed was a minute, hell, forty seconds. All he'd needed was forty seconds.
How long did he need now? And was it worth the cost?
"Chief!" The voice in his headset practically split his eardrum in half. Colonel Tigh, apparently unable to wait any long, had resorted to shouting over the channel. Tyrol winced. The colonel didn't sound too pleased. "What's going on, Tyrol?"
"Sir, the evacuation is proceeding as planned." He hesitated, and then plowed forward. "Sir, we have possible survivors in a collapsed area. I'm going to assign personnel to check it out."
There was silence on the other end, and then Tigh's wary voice came back across the comm.
"Copy that. Listen carefully. You can search for survivors, but do not, I REPEAT, DO NOT waste time on a lost cause. Do you understand what I'm telling you, Chief?"
Tyrol fought all of his emotions then. Anger, despair, frustration, worry, relief. He didn't know if he'd ever forgive that man for what he'd done to his flight crew, but suddenly he knew exactly what it meant to be in Colonel Tigh's position.
He felt ashamed as he keyed the mike, swallowed back the quiver in his voice.
"Yes, sir. We'll be off this ship before it goes. Hephaestus out."
Moore, listening to Tyrol's side of the conversation, had already taken off across the landing bay. He grabbed two deck personnel by the elbows, and a member of Moore's bridge crew that had been talking with them followed. In the space of seconds, they were at the mass of debris that blocked the corridor.
Tyrol watched them for a second, and then closed his eyes. No, he would not waste time. He had to get these people off this ship -- with or without whoever might be trapped in that wreckage. If he had to, he would leave people here, and that thought made him physically ill.
He'd called Tigh a son of a bitch two weeks ago. Now, it appeared, it would be his turn.