Part of being left behind required maintaining a sense of optimism while waiting to receive news. Morale throughout the Fleet depended upon this. Slipping spirits presented their own set of problems, so Laura played her part by reassuring the people. She, like Bill, was a creature of duty and devoted to her people. As the attack force jumped away, she conveyed her belief and confidence in the mission to those left behind, even the insipid press, before slipping away to await news in the CO's quarters. Not being far from CIC, she'd be the first outside of the command center to learn when the Colonial attack force tracked down the Hub. From her experience in the last timeline, she knew the process could take some time.
In private, the pretense of optimism vanished. Aside from the natural anxiety of a woman who'd sent the people she loved into battle, Laura dealt with an unavoidable feeling of doom. And she was rather sick of the prescient images floating in her head that made her feel worse and worse; a Forum, statues of the Lords of Kobol, Poseidon crying, Apollo holding a bird, the orb, and other images in the mist. Laura tried to keep busy to control her nerves, occupying herself with reports, ship captain's requests, and her daughter. Finally, she engaged in the time-honored Roslin tradition of tidying as a form of distraction. Her own mother had practiced this a lot in her early days of cancer.
At the table, a blissfully unaware Evelyn wrestled with nothing more stressful than trying to put dry cereal on a spoon. It wasn't going well. She sat in a high chair made with wood harvested from Fallback Omega during their time spent at the rest-stop. Every so often, Evie sent a piece of food flying onto the floor with a small "uh-oh."
Another piece hit the floor, and Evie looked over at her mother. "Uh-oh."
Laura smiled at her daughter. "You're right, Evie. Uh-oh. It's okay. Just eat some of what's in front of you."
Evie proceeded to use her fingers to put food onto the spoon and then to eat it. At her daughter's logic, Laura chuckled softly before going back to work. Billy had cleared her schedule for the day. He knew that the president, like everyone else in the Fleet, would be ruminating on the battle rather than any of the mundanity in day-to-day life. Even the Quorum declined meeting until the battle finished.
Gods, I hope this is all worth it, Laura thought. She felt an impending sense of something. Trouble? Resolution? Endings? Her heart sped up, and she quickly returned to puttering about, picking up several books left lying around their quarters. Bill liked to pull books out but didn't have the same enthusiasm about putting them, or anything else, away. Knick knacks, books, and reports cluttered their quarters, and it drove the neat-freak in Laura a bit batty—especially when things like the bed had to be made with military precision. Laura shook her head, having lived with her walking contradiction for years now.
Please come back to me, she prayed while slipping a book back into place behind the couch.
"Mommy?" Evie asked, again getting her mother's attention. Blue eyes met green, and Evie held up a handful of cereal to share.
"No thank you, sweetie," Laura said, not having been able to eat since the family dinner. She dropped a quick kiss onto her baby's forehead.
A knock on the hatch drew their attention, and Laura called for them to enter. Saul and Ellen Tigh stepped into the room.
"Aun' Ellie, Aun' Ellie!"
"Hi, princess!" Ellen said, her exuberant personality filling the room. Evie waved her spoon around in an excited greeting. Besides the uplifted atmosphere, Aunt Ellen's appearance usually coincided with getting sugary treats and endlessly indulged. Bribery was harder in the apocalypse but remained quite effective.
"Aun' Ellie!"
"Guess I'm chopped liver," Saul grumbled.
"Any news?" Laura asked while Ellen distracted Evie by lifting her out of the chair and giving her an obnoxious kiss on the cheek. Laughter filled the air as Ellen tickled her "niece," and they blew raspberries at each other.
"Nope. All quiet, Madame President," Saul said. "Just restless folks in CIC."
"And a restless press on Colonial One," Ellen added over Evie's giggles.
Saul scoffed. "You'd think the damned idiots would calm down and accept that we'd give 'em information when we have it. No, they gotta call every five minutes, all needy-like."
"That's the press for you," Laura said. Saul merely grunted in reply. He eyed the drinks cart for a moment before shaking his head. It was tempting, but Saul now led Galactica and the military in Bill's absence. He wouldn't let down his best friend.
"That's why I'm here. Thought I'd go over to Colonial One to deal with them," Ellen offered. "If you approve, Laura. You know I can give them something that'll give Saulie some peace."
Laura nodded. "Thank you, Ellen."
Evie looked around from where she sat perched on Ellen's hip. "Daddy?"
"Daddy…" Laura sighed. "Daddy has to work, sweetie."
Evie frowned. She looked around again. Why were her mother, Uncle Saul, and Aunt Ellen here without her father? That wasn't normal. A cloud passed over her face; she didn't like that her favorite person was missing. Although she didn't understand, Evelyn caught on that something wasn't quite normal today.
"Mommy!" Her arms reached for the security of her mother, and Ellen gave her back.
"Guess that's my cue to leave," Ellen laughed. "Call over when we know how Bill's doing."
"Remind them it might take quite some time," Laura said, deciding not to press on how the vivacious blonde planned on entertaining the press. She could only deal with so many worries at once. As Ellen left, Saul strode over and poured himself a glass of water.
"I need to drink something," he muttered. "Ellen always wanted a kid of her own," Saul said when he heard the hatch close. His shoulders slumped, and he rubbed a hand over his weary face. "Never could give her what she wanted."
Laura admitted to herself that she felt uncomfortable with the idea of two Cylons, even if only one of them realized what they were, creating a child; why bother keeping humanity around. She pushed that thought away. The Tighs were, for better or worse, their friends.
"Cavil would have ripped the universe apart to get his hands on a pure Cylon child," Laura pointed out.
"Guess that's true," Tigh said, knocking back the water. "It was bad enough when Caprica lost… I don't wanna go through something like that again. Losing a child…"
"Not something I want to think about," Laura said.
"I just wonder why Ellen and I couldn't bake one. Never used any, you know, protection and gods know I love that damned woman!"
"I can't believe we are having this conversation," Laura said, looking at Tigh like he'd sprouted three hydra heads.
Tigh looked chagrined, having not quite realized how he rambled on. "It's these damned nerves. I'm going crazy! Me and Bill, side by side in CIC, that was the plan. Now he's off fighting without me, everyone in CIC keeps staring at me, and I FRAKKING HATE IT ALL!"
"Commander! The baby!" Laura said as she and Evelyn stared at him. Laura leveled a most presidential glare at him. "If she picks up any bad words, I'm going to make sure Bill knows exactly whose fault it is when he returns."
"Because he's coming back!"
"Yes, yes he is." I hope.
"Good!" Saul deflated a bit. He set his glass down and caught Laura looking over at a family photo. Although in uniform, Bill had dropped the military persona and looked at her with complete devotion. His eyes were soft, the corners of his lips tugged upwards, and his body tilted towards hers; beside him, Laura basked in the warmth of that look. Their boys gathered around the couple, looking ready to laugh and get into mischief.
This is what you always tried to prepare yourself for, Laura, she told herself. Knowing you could lose your family again. They're military; you accepted that. But that made it no easier to deal with. It made her feel no less powerless. She stood there, proud and worried all at once. Stay strong.
"They'll be back," Saul said.
Laura gave him a tight smile. They both jumped when the comm rang in Adama's quarters.
"Tigh," he said, answering the comm. Listening for a moment, he met Laura's curious gaze. "Raptor just reported back. They found the Hub."
Laura wondered if she should catch up with Ellen and go to Colonial One to update the press herself.
...
The smell of machine oil and grease hit them first. Ahead, Centurions had entrenched themselves throughout the hallway leading to the flight deck and the evac Raptors. At the sight of the metal monsters, CIC survivors trained their weapons onto them. Fingers readied on the triggers.
"Hold your fire!" both Adama and Fisk ordered at the same time, just before bullets would have gone flying.
"Purple stripes," Hoshi added when heads swiveled to look at the ranking officers with bewilderment and a touch of anger.
"These Centurions are with us, you idiots," Shaw snapped, striding forward with purpose while also refusing to look at the friendly Cylons.
The Centurions remained in place, guarding the evacuation route and shepherding the fleeing humans onward. As they neared the hangar deck, the CIC group joined with other crewmen who rushed toward safety in controlled chaos. A several-hundred-meters-long part of the ship, the hangar decks had several points of access that reduced bottlenecking. Once they arrived, crewmen immediately made their way to evacuation Raptors. The CIC officers did the same, joining the evacuating bedraggled survivors. In the madness, Cylons and humans worked together to get people off Pegasus— pushed to care more about survival than prejudice.
Without warning, Bill changed direction.
"Keep going," he firmly ordered the others, who hesitated when they saw the Admiral moving away from the Raptors. Now fighting the crowd's current, Bill made his way toward the medical crews he'd noticed. Clumsy crew members crashed into him, and starbursts of pain flashed behind his eyelids. Groaning from his injuries, Bill pushed on toward the medical crews. Be okay. Be okay. Be okay.
He finally saw his son. For a second, Bill's knees turned to jelly before he regained his composure. Zak lived. He worked on a patient who lay on a stretcher while the medics helped the injured into their Raptors. Bits of blood clung to Zak's uniform, and his brow was creased with concentration while he threw himself into saving the young woman.
Bill reached his son's side and looked down at the patient. Pressing his fingers to her neck, he slowly shook his head. He found no pulse.
"Zak, she's gone," he said softly.
"No," Zak said in a pleading voice. "Not another one."
"Zak," Bill said sympathetically and watched his son's shoulders slump in defeat. They looked at the fallen woman. How many kids like her have I led to their deaths. After taking a steadying breath, Zak motioned for her to be lifted onto the Raptor.
"No. Leave the dead," Bill said. Zak shot him a withering glare but bit his tongue. Reaching to her, he grasped the dog tags around the dead woman's neck and pulled them free.
"Robinson, Anne," Zak read. Another casualty, another identity, another tag to be carried out of battle.
Bill looked around the room while Zak supervised the removal of the rest of the injured personnel. Zak had no qualms about using Cylons, enlisting anything bipedal to help carry the more severely wounded. This battle was supposed to be ours.
As time ticked down, father and son urged the survivors on. Stragglers stumbled in as the Centurions gave up their positions to make it out in time.
"We gotta go, dad," Zak said when Bill took another look around. She was a good ship. Maybe not the best ship in the Fleet, but she was a good ship. "Dad!" Bill knew not all the survivors had made it to the evacuation Raptors. He'd be leaving people behind, and that left a rancid taste in his mouth. The weight of escape pressed on him; a crushing weight made heavier by those who wouldn't be so lucky. Why did he get to make it out? Time ticked on, and he knew Cain had armed the warheads by now.
Time wasn't on his side.
He remembered Cottle's words from when Laura'd been diagnosed with PTSD. She loves you, Bill, and it tore her up feeling helpless while you were dying. Truly, I think she's been able to cope with so much because of the bond you share. He couldn't leave Laura alone and wouldn't deprive the Fleet of another experienced leader, so Bill climbed into the cramped Raptor and sat by his son. Shocked, exhausted, and trembling, everyone in the Raptor looked at each other as if trying to comprehend what just happened. Some prayed. Bill stared at the Raptor door as it closed.
The Raptor jostled as it maneuvered from the hangar deck to the elevator that lifted it to its launch pad. The movement aggravated Bill's shoulder and head wounds leaving him dizzier and more disoriented as the adrenaline rush faded after their escape from CIC. Closing his eyes when he saw two of Zak, he let his addled mind drift to his wife. He imagined the sheer relief that would be in her eyes when he made it home to her. Fear dancing with relief—he'd seen it in her eyes so many times. A gnawing need to feel her in his arms settled over him as they launched. In a rare moment of prayer, he thanked whatever annoyingly powerful beings were out there that he'd made it off Pegasus. The thought of not coming home filled his chest with an awful ache.
Bill knew when they cleared the hangar deck. There was a subtle shift whenever a ship cleared a Battletstar's gravity field, and pilots picked up on the change. Banishing thoughts of Laura, Bill opened his eyes and registered the tides of battle. To his dismay, the Hub remained intact. The silver lining was Commander Ziegler's steady voice over the comm that coordinated the fighting in his stead.
"Get us to the Valkyrie," Bill ordered the pilot before turning to look out the Raptor's windows to the Pegasus. Beside him, Zak shifted so he could see too, catching the final seconds of the Battlestar's life.
The once-grand ship exploded in a brief burst of light before becoming nothing more than an expanding wave of energy and debris.
"Godspeed," Adama murmured in a low, gravely voice. He knew Cain had committed horrible acts in her life, and he didn't know if her good deeds blotted out the wrongs. Between the alliance with the Cylons, the mistakes of his own life, and the sacrifice Cain just made, the idea of justice seemed a concept with more gray than he liked. The fleeing Raptors thrashed about in the shockwaves from the explosion. The wave tossed the passengers around like sardines in a tin can, leaving them sprawled all over each other.
Adama sat up in more pain than ever. But when he saw the first Cylon Basestars flash away, he pushed the pain to the side. Then several more Basestars jumped, and he felt nothing other than cold dread as he realized the only reason the Basestars would abandon the Hub was for a more tempting target.
The civilian Fleet. Cavil made it no secret that he wanted Hera and Laura.
His armor faltered, and the blood drained from his face. The Cylons had managed to hack the navigation terminal on the Pegasus and transmit the coordinates of the Civilian Fleet to the rest of their murderous Fleet. Now dizzy with fear instead of pain, he faced an awful choice: did they press the advantage of an unguarded Hub, or did they return to protect the Fleet? His vision blurred with panic, wanting to bolt back to Galactica; every cell of his body raged at him to get back to his wife and baby daughter.
"Get me a comm to Commander Ziegler," Adama ordered.
…
Apollo and Starbuck were flying knee-deep in Raiders when the distinctive flashes of jumping ships caught their attention. At first, they thought it was just a shadow flash after the destruction of the Pegasus. They'd both been looking right at the grand ship when she blazed out of existence, each praying that Zak and Adama escaped.
"What the hell?" Starbuck said in bafflement when she noted more ships blink away. Voices overlapped on the wireless as other people noticed the vanishing Cylons, commenting on the unexpected turn of battle. It caused a swelling wave of excitement to form in the pilots as they craved the call to press their advantage.
The veterans remained wary.
"There's no way we scared them off," Apollo said.
"The Hub's FTL isn't spinning up. They're still stuck."
Simultaneously banking a hard right to avoid a missile with a bad lock, Apollo flicked open his squadron-wide comm. "This is the CAG. You all see the evening, so keep your heads screwed on sensibly and press the attack. I want that Hub destroyed."
Excited acknowledgments crackled along the comms. The pilots needed to catch a break, and, to them, this was it. Meanwhile, Apollo, Starbuck, and Bulldog remained attentive to the comm, waiting for word to come on what was happening with the Fleet. They knew Cylons didn't run scared; they calculated and then maneuvered. A part of Lee longed for the days when he stood in CIC instead of sitting in a Viper; he'd be able to see the whole battlefield and make decisions. He'd like to think he grew into being a good leader.
You also made enough mistakes, his inner voice taunted himself, and he shot down a Cylon with a growl of frustration. Every thought of the other timelines remained bittersweet, tinged with both fondness and more than enough anger. He kept squeezing the trigger until the whole world in front of him filled with exploding Cylons as he flew into the heart of the battle while dancing out of the sights of enemy fighters.
Starbuck pursed her lips at the thought of Cylons trying to be slicker than her—she was the unpredictable maverick. Performing a guts-clenching barrel roll, she avoided a Cylon Raider who'd thought to smash his ship into hers. In the span of an eye blink, she flipped over and reduced her attacker's metal ship to dust. One blink later, she retook her place back by Apollo's wing, and the two sailed through the sky, keeping each other safe while waiting for further orders.
"C'mon, almost there," Apollo growled as they took down a Raider wing patrolling the perimeter of the Hub. He gripped the Viper controls so hard his hands were numb. A few more minutes and the Battlestars would have a window in which to send in nukes that wouldn't be shot down before impact.
"Commander Ziegler to all hands, return to ships. Repeat, return to ships. Attack on Civilian Fleet in progress," Ziegler's strained voice broke over the comms. They could almost hear how hard she gritted her teeth in frustration.
"We're abandoning the mission?!" yelled Narcho in irritated disbelief. His Viper squad listened to his string of profanities.
"Apollo, Kat," Kat said frantically. "Falcon had to eject. SAR Raptors can't get close enough to retrieve him. Too many bogeys."
In an instant, Starbucks own irritation passed, ripped from her thoughts to be filled by something far more important: Liam.
"Kara," Apollo's scared voice came over her direct ship-to-ship comm. Only one thing could make her husband sound like that: the thought of losing a brother again.
"Let's go find him."
Kara's world narrowed to the little blip on her DRADIS that signified Falcon's retrieval beacon. Without hesitation. She turned away from the fight and flew toward the blip, swerving and dashing through the minefield of broken ships and enemies. Apollo slammed on his turbo, flying hot on her heels. The fight was over anyway. Now was the time for mad dashing back to the barn. At least, for the sensible members of the squadron.
"Falcon, Starbuck," Kara said over the wireless. "Can you hear me, Liam?"
"You out there, little brother?" Lee asked, trying to keep the worry from his voice. He didn't want to panic Liam, but there was no reply. Bullets flew past them as the Cylons shot at the retreating Colonials. The lingering Apollo and Starbuck made tempting targets. Kara swore, slamming hard on her turbo as she brought her Viper up to breakneck speeds that would have caused lesser pilots to pass out from the g-forces.
Be okay. Be okay. Be okay.
She'd done her job and trained this Adama well. Hadn't she? She bit her lip so hard, the tangy taste of blood filled her mouth. Hadn't she done her job?
Closing in on the beacon, the senior pilots kept their eyes peeled. Ejecting from a Viper was a last resort; there needed to be enough damage to warrant such a course of action. It was terrifying to lose that layer of hard metal armor that kept pilots safe from bullets and vacuum.
Only 43 percent of pilots who eject are recovered, an unhelpful part of Kara's brain supplied.
"Falcon, Starbuck. Are you there?"
Be okay, Liam. Be okay, Zak. Be okay, Dad.
"Falcon, Apollo. Can you hear us?"
"Kara, Lee?" a small, garbled voice asked over the comms.
They both saw the ejection seat floating off into space, its inertia unstopped by the nothingness around it. Somehow, it looked like Liam remained in one piece. Kara didn't cry much, and she banished all such reactions at the moment. After this battle, she decided that she would finally indulge herself in a massive little cry with the biggest bottle of ambrosia she could find.
But how to get him to safety?
Lee didn't hesitate. Kara would later tell him that what came next surpassed every retina-defying stunt she'd ever pulled. This was his moment where he abandoned overthinking and trusted his gut. With only an anecdote his father once told him about from BIll's training days, Lee put the maneuver into action. First, he pulled as close to Liam as possible, careful not to bump him and send him hurdling off into another direction. Keeping steady with one hand, his other pushed the cockpit canopy open. Alarms blaring at him, demanding he stop the unconventional movement.
Possessing the finesse of a truly seasoned pilot, Lee fired his thrusters and inched the Viper even closer while Kara swirled around them, covering fire. When close enough, he reached out and grabbed onto his little brother, digging his grasp through both their flight suits and into flesh.
"Lee?" Liam asked, feeling something close around his wrist.
"Use your other hand and unbuckle your eject seat. Quick and steady," Lee ordered. "Come on. Quick and steady." Liam obeyed, but his movements were sluggish. Lee realized there might be a puncture in his brother's suit somewhere, depriving him of oxygen. It seemed like it took hours, but soon enough, Liam was free. Lee pulled him down into the cockpit with him.
"Like when I taught you how to drive a car, right buddy?"
"Hhsme..."
"Stay with me!" Lee ordered. One arm braced around his brother, he flipped the Viper around and blasted his way toward the Valkyrie. Starbuck was less than a second behind him. Warning alarms screamed at him as he flew without the canopy of his Viper attached, but Lee didn't care. He'd rather risk the vacuum of space than lose another brother. The g forces of his turbo boost pushed Liam against his chest, and breathing became difficult. Lee didn't even try to reposition Liam; he had too good a grasp on him to risk.
They hit the deck of Valkyrie hard, and Liam slammed into Lee. Agony spread from Lee's ribs, but he held onto Liam, keeping him from bouncing out of the cockpit. Once they stopped skidding along the deck, Lee activated the mag-lock to keep his viper in place. Now inside the gravity field of the ship, it was less likely for Liam to float away. Knowing it would take time for them to get into the Battlestar, Lee fiddled with the hoses attached to their suits until the brothers shared the oxygen between them. He noticed the readout dropping faster than it should have. Without a doubt, there was an oxygen leak.
"It's okay; we made it. It's okay," he kept repeating to Liam as Kara landed beside them. He notified the deckhands of the oxygen leak, bumping their recovery up to priority. He hoped they'd be pulled into Valkyrie soon.
"What about the civies?" Liam asked in a mumble.
He's okay, Kara thought, looking over at the other two. He's okay. He's okay. She repeated this to herself, resting a hand on her stomach as a wave of nausea finally caught up with her. It got worse when the hangar bay doors closed, and they started jumping back to the Fleet.
…
Adama watched the hangar doors close and was still on the Raptor for the first jump back to the civilian Fleet. The Centurion piloting the Raptor had done a good job dodging around enemy fire. Once at the Valkyrie they zeroed in and landed right on a landing pad. It disconcerted Adama to witness the piloting skills of a Centurion, having flown against Cylons for years.
The precise landing would make it easier for knuckledraggers to bring the ship into the Valkyrie. The battered and bruised souls who endured combat landings would take longer to retrieve from the flight pods. The frenzied deckhands now faced the hard task of retrieving all the ships and prepping them for launch again right away. They needed to be ready when they got back to the Fleet—the Cylons had the advantage with their better jump drives.
The second jump came while the landing pad brought the Raptor into Valkyrie. As soon as the jump completed, Adama was on his feet and heading out the hatch as soon as it opened. It took time to spin up jump drives for each leg of their return journey, and it seemed to take too long. The PA ordered everyone to brace for another jump as Adama managed to maneuver through the crowded deck and enter the corridors.
The ship jumped several times as he made his way to CIC. He moved slowly, each jump disorienting him due to his injuries. Sometimes he needed to brace himself against a wall to remain upright, which irritated him. He could usually take a jump with his hands clasped calmly in front of him while those around him instead grasped the ship for stability. He hated not being at his best in front of the crew, they needed a pillar of strength, especially during a retreat. He needed to be at his best when protecting the Fleet.
More than once during the trek to CIC, he cursed the Cylons. Most of all he damned Cavil and his determination to get Laura and Hera. Bill hated to think of what Cavil would do to Laura because he believed she could lead him to the orb. Dark thoughts crowded his mind as he closed in on CIC.
The order came to launch Vipers and Bill knew that they'd made it back to the Civilians. Walking into CIC, he immediately looked up at DRADIS and noted the tell-tale red marks of the civilians still present, though some of them were disappearing as the ships jumped to safety. Galactica's mark caught his attention, and he noted his ship and her Viper wing defending the Fleet. It was clear they'd been outmatched.
"Sit-rep," Adama said. A few officers gave him a wary, sad look.
"About half the civilian Fleet were able to make their emergency jumps before we arrived," Ziegler said. "With the Cylon forces split, we'll be able to hold them off while the survivors jump. But, sir…"
Bill felt his blood run cold at the look Ziegler now gave him. "What?"
"Sir…" Ziegler took a deep breath. "Sir, Colonial One has been destroyed."
…
Author's Note: :) This was a bit of a faster update than the last few, so I hope I'm getting back in the grove. Maybe I'm just enjoying being destructive. Hope you all enjoyed it! You readers and commenters are the best.