Krenzik's War II: Part 4

Author: Manipulator

Rating: T

Word Count: 5498

Spoilers: "Epiphanies"

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica is property of NBC/Universal

Notes: If you haven't read "Krenzik's War" parts 1-8, "Shadows and Reflections," and the first three parts of "Krenzik's War II" you should go back and do that before reading this. Thanks must go to Sabaceanbabe who pitched in with an excellent beta that pulled my prose up by its bootstraps in spots.

A hollow clanging pierced beyond the first adequate sleep I'd had in a week, as my eyes forced themselves open. The clock's digital readout floated in the encompassing dark--0347. My limbs complied when I rose, but not without a cracking protest in my knees and lower back. Whoever knocked was certainly persistent, hammering against the bulkhead nonstop.

"Comin'," I muttered, spinning the wheel, letting the door creak open on its own. I turned on the overhead light, fished a cigarette from a pack on the dresser.

"Krenzik, you sleep like the frakking dead," our navigator, Linda Moore said.

She looked as tired as I felt, except she had presence of mind to come calling at this ungodly hour wearing some baggy sweats and flipflops. Her hair was a knotty mess corralled into a ponytail. My mind sent the signals to the rest of me that we must be in a state of emergency. Cylons could be among us as I lit up my cigarette in just my boxer shorts, but all I did was nod. Then again, if it waswere a night time nighttime Cylon raid, no one would have waited for me. They would have woken gotten Marty up first to spin up the FTL and get the hell out, and worry about a post-jump checkup on the other side.

"Well," I asked her said as I grabbed my pants off the back of a chair. "How soon till 'til the jump?"

"It's not Raiders, it's… it's the Daru Mozu. You have to come see. Hurry up and meet me in the cockpit."

I met Stengler on the way, crowding into CiC behind him as he wrestled into one of his khaki shirts. Mitchell was the only one still in uniform, as it had been his turn to mind the store on nightwatch. Jeffers, our XO, gaped out the viewport, for once speechless.

We slowly cruised within three clicks or so of a jagged hole in the fleet's lone mobile ore refinery, the Daru Mozu. A raptor hovered, as would a concerned mother bird over its nest, shining its spotlight amidst the twisted, floating metal. There was no fire, probably because that section's emergency seals slammed down before the ship could vent all its air into space.

Garbled crosstalk clogged the wireless, as Mitchell finally raised the refinery's flight crew, and handed the headset over to Stengler. Before he spoke to them, he turned to me.

"Get 'em up, Krenzik. We're giving them any help they may need."

I nodded. "Is it Cylon agents or--?"

"Don't know yet, now . Now go. Get 'em up to the mess hall and we'll tell you there brief everybody at once."

II

Down below, we had grown used to jumping out of our racks in the middle of the night so we wouldn't give the toasters the satisfaction of our hides. That didn't make anyone more pleasant around our table. In the kitchen, Neil didn't need to be up for this, but he started a fresh pot of coffee anyway.

I pounded down a second cup as the last of the mechanics and cargo personnel rolled in, and grabbed a seat. My hands would have been trembling as my nerves had snapped to fearful life just a few months ago. Now, though, I was still trying to wake up, after seeing our only refinery bombed by someone, possibly a Cylon agent or…

I recalled the bespectacled Jahee, his manifesto for surrender, and the way he beamed over the crate full of explosive charges that Phelan had sold him--, that came from my cargo hold. I didn't think he'd have he had the stones or the amount of enough nutcases following him willing to actually blow themselves upgo through with it. .

We'd find out soon enough, as Jeffers came through the double doors, still unshaven at 0415, with carrying a sheaf of printouts. I looked to my mechanics and lift drivers. What was said Down Below stayed Down Below. Hopefully as they clawed their way out of sleep they would remember that.

"Alright, listen up," the XO barked. Toby flinched a little, lidded eyes widening over his coffee. "This is what we got from Captain Marstairs on the Daru Mozu." His eyes scanned the list as he continued.

"One of their circulation system specialists wired herself with an as as-yet undetermined explosive device and, before blowing herself up and taking a nice chunk of bulkhead with her, she proclaimed…" Jeffers' brow creased as his mouth turned downward in disgust as he formed the next words. "'None of us want to die, but the fighting must end. If my sacrifice sends a signal to the Cylon that brings peace, then it…it was worth it.' Frakking hell--that's the gist of this garbage. One of her own crew did this. And here are hard numbers: twelve are dead at this point, seven injured, and there are… dear Gods, four stuck under collapsed steel beams in an elevator car."

"'None of us want to die, but the fighting must end. If my sacrifice sends a signal to the Cylon that brings peace, then it…it was worth it.' Frakking hell--that's the gist of this garbage. One of her own crew did this. And here are hard numbers: twelve are dead at this point, seven injured, and there are… dear Gods, four stuck under collapsed steel beams in an elevator car."

I almost couldn't swallow. Not too long ago, I had the solace that my decisions--good and bad-- hadn't caused any deaths. It was a small thing, but all I had, until this. Sure, we were all culpable on this boat, the moment we signed on with Phelan, and certainly the moment we pried open that crate for Jahee and knew what he was leaving with. Ultimately, though, the buck stopped with me. No one else could wash the blood off their hands, because I might never get mine clean.

"Where'd…where'd she get the firepower to blow that out," ?" Marty asked. I nearly flinched, as just him mentioning it made my flesh crawl now. Still, tThe charges we furnished him was were only half the equation. In order to cause the that kind of damage that mechanic did, she , that mechanic would've needed some high-powered plastique for those charges to set off to set those charges off. That probably came from another ship with the same "plausible deniability" we had.

Nick turned around and glared at him Marty as Jeffers shrugged.

"Who knows. ? All we have is that this isn't the first time. Scuttlebutt is that a maintenance tech off the Greenleaf was loading shells on Galactica, screwed with a few hundred rounds and a viper pilot nearly lost a wing because of it. In the meantime, they got the area sealed off. Aid is on the way from the military, and they'll be docking with the tug while we, and some of the other ships with free hands will dock within the next few hours and offer what help we can."

Jeffers turned and slammed the rest of his printout stack in front of me. "That's the current tally of damages. It's an estimate at this point; some of their diagnostic systems were fried in the bombing. Get everybody ready to roll in there."

"That's the current tally of damages. It's an estimate at this point. Some of their diagnostic systems were fried in the bombing. Get everybody ready to roll in there."

Jeffers gave hard looks to Candi and Toby. "I know where you two will be. Hope you're not claustrophobic."

"I know where you two will be. Hope you're not claustrophobic."

The double doors back to CiC flapped upon his departure. We looked at one another, as if the electric hum of the vents told everything we were thinking.

"I'll find some shit out after we help patch 'em up," I said.

"They had to get plastique from somewhere--"Bobby started. Nick cleared his throat, giving a blatant glare toward the kitchen, shutting him up.

"We talk about this amongst ourselves," I said, letting my eyes shift toward the double doors that led ultimately to the cockpit. "We'll meet in the shop by the still after breakfast. We probably won't be cleared to even dock with 'em till 'til after lunch."

"Right now," I continued, flipping through the printouts. , "I'm seeing fork truck damage, and a lot of air and climate control problems. They probably won't need us so much down in the engine room. We'll be doing shit work so they can focus on the big stuff." I nodded toward Mike Briar. "You guys clear a path and give us room in the hold. They'll be truckin' in some stuff that'll have to go in the shop. I don't wanna have to weave in and out of crates. We got a few hours maybe before we can dock with 'em, so get on it."

Briar nodded and joined Bobby and Dan to move the stacks.

Toby raised an eyebrow above his steaming plastic cup of steaming coffee. "I think we need to - -"

"Yeah thats' it," I replied, with With more snap in my voice than I'd I wanted, I cut him off. "That's it. Our first priority is giving them all the help they need."

I headed back then to CiC, and having decided to pull what strings I could. I decided opted not to call on Zenar. ; I would just be in line for Phelan's favor with everyone else, and, given our part in Jahee's terroristic enterprise, I wasn't entirely sure that maybe he didn't want hadn't wanted it to happen. I asked Mitchell to punch up Diana's code on the wireless--her private code. I got nothing but her voicemail. She was probably either in the shower, or en route to the Daru Mozu already. With any luck, I could speed up the machine for those guys.

Everyone cleaned their socket sets, crescent wrenches, and power drills and filled their rolling tool chests. New Castle was had been cheap, and decided to save by leaving their crews with department store "heavy duty" rolling ones chests from a department store, instead of investing in a professional professional-grade tool chestcontainer with drawers for each of us. The ones we had were clunky for our needs, but were perfect for what was ahead--yet another example of how everything was turned upside down in the universe.

"What the frak is this," ?" Toby grunted to Candi. "You gotta take care of your shit," he said to her, grabbing her plasma torch, and holding a small piece of hollow metal--the cutting nozzle -- up to the light. "You gotta clean this shit, I'm tellin' ya."

Candi just nodded earnestly as Toby tore down her entire plasma torch head, and placed the rest of the disassembled metal in her hand. "Dump it in the parts washer for five minutes. It should be dry in ten."

"Okay, Toby," she told him, with a rapt nod.

For a second I thought she was going to salute or do something else dorky. I smiled a little to myself as she followed his directions to the letter, mumbling under her breath when she thought no one was looking could hear. She was coming along, but Toby and I decided over the last couple weeks to ride her about the little things when we saw them. She was responding so far, sloppiness aside. I nearly laughed when Toby called her back, and handed her his torn torn-down spot welder to throw in as well.

I slid open the bottom drawer on my chest, and, under a couple burned out computer cards I forgot to throw in the recycling barrel, lay a yellowed copy of the Highchurch Post-Gazette. Instinctively I reached to get it out, and pitch it, almost hearing Caff behind me grumble about keeping my tools in order or Jeffers would take a chunk out of all our asses. I stopped, left it alone. It was as if I didn't have any right to remove that paper. I figured if I did, I'd read it later.

After breakfast, gathered around the still, everyone's eyes were on me around the still. For once the peanut gallery wasn't squawking at me with every question possible at the same time, but it did little to ease my mind. We didn't push hadn't pushed the button, but we had let Jahee walk with his toys. People were dead because we had a deal with Phelan.

"Okay," I began. "Speak now or forever hold your peace. This is shitty any way you slice it. We're frakked if we did, frakked if we didn't."

Ed folded his arms, his eyes meeting the floor. "We need to redo the deal we got with Phelan."

"Fat chance of that, man,." Marty grumbled. " We are bent over his frakkin' barrel any way you slice it--"

Ed snapped up straight, eyes locking on Marty. "We got firepower now, we--"

"We got firepower now we--"

Nick cut his best pal off. "Yeah, but we gotta leave this bucket every day. Shit, man, Phelan's guys are all over the place. How much you wanna bet we start disappearin'?"

Ed Coursen just shook his head, fuming, like the rest of us. Candi was dour, watchful. If anybody knew what Phelan was capable of, it was her, but we had our little secret draped over anything she may have wanted to say.

"And, everybody," I said, raising my voice to quell the emerging din. "We have Pegasus to worry about. One call, and Fisk shuts us down with Adama's blessing and looks like a hero. We end up taking the fall. It's that easy."

"So we just gotta eat it, then," ?" Toby asked.

I nodded. "We gotta look out after our little pack here above everything else. We let this slip, we lose everything, maybe even get killed. This stays down below, right?"

"We gotta look out after our little pack here above everything else. We let this slip, we lose everything, maybe even get killed. This stays down below, right?"

Everyone mumbled their assent. We were smart doggies. We didn't shit where we ate. No matter what.

III

The Lady of Libron II sidled up next to the Daru Mozu, which was held protectively by the repair platform's tug clamps, as zero-g mechanics worked in and around the wreckage, clearing out any mangled steel that didn't float away. Three raptors hovered over them, illuminating the ship's jagged exit wound in the ship's hull with their spotlights.

Ben Delroy, a wiry, hard-muscled man with closely cropped black hair greeted us after we achieved hard seal. He was the vessel maintenance chief for the Daru Mozu. His work shirts were just like ours, except ours were a charcoal gray, not light blue, and their nameplates were in cursive.

The ship was essentially a factory in space, designed to stay in orbit above asteroids or moons to field loads of tylium from miners on the surface. Equipment on the production floor kept processing ore until its vast holds were full, then they would jump out, usually every three to four weeks, dump their load, and return in a day or so. Runs to these vessels were a regular part of the Lady's schedule. We'd often dump off a shipment of parts, provisions, you name it, off after docking, or maybe onto a shuttle if they were in an asteroid field.

Delroy was just one of four Chiefs that kept the refinery going. They had separate crews with their own bosses for the engines, climate control, and actual engineers with multiple technicians under them who ran two hyperdrives twice as powerful as what we had aboard the Lady. They had a fully functioning deck crew, a scaled scaled-down version of what a military vessel would have. Deckhands scrambled in their orange jumpsuits as Delroy lookedsized us overup, then stared at his clipboard. He looked every bit of pushing fifty, but even more so now, after one of his people detonated herself, taking others with her. I had to push thoughts of Adam Mangan out of my mind.

"Okay," he told me. "You got two welders, right?"

I nodded.

"Fine. I need one of 'em to join the gang down in the shaft to cut those beams out for the crane. I got people stuck in a freight elevator."

"I know. I'll give you Toby. He's got the most experience."

He sighed. "Fine. Just remember, we got marines on board lowering 'em down in rappelling gear. So if he's afraid of heights, he better get over it. Nobody's going to run out of air in there for hours yet, but we have enough people going apeshit around here. Your other one can join my second, Brisby, patching the air ducts to get some ventilation back on the refinery floor."

I raised an eyebrow. All that heavy equipment burning up would make this huge mess never-ending. I craned my neck to look over the printout he was viewing.

"We got time, like I said. The Seventh Star is bringing some guys over, too. I'm gonna need to use some of your hold to put some lifts back together. Parts we have, shopspace we don't."

He muttered under his breath, shook his head. Basically the explosion mangled over fifty yards of twisting air ducts that ran from their atmosphere processor, which, luckily wasn't damaged. Individual climate control terminals were fried, however, which was its own huge problem.

I told the gang where they were going. Nick and Ed would focus on repairing the fork trucks, and Candi would help reconnect the air ducts. Color faded in short order from Toby's face when I told him he was going down the shaft. He just nodded, partly out of pride, and party partly because we both knew Candi wasn't experienced enough for something that delicate. Marty would join the gang who was getting the master climate control unit on the refinery floor up and running correctly again. I assumed I would end up joining him or another group on climate climate-control duty, replacing cards and fiddling with diagnostics, but once the Lady's caretakers either returned to the ship, or were spirited off on maintenance buggies to their tasks, Delroy beckoned me to go with him where we could talk.

"Have you ever walked in zero G?"

IV

I'd been in a space suit twice. Once in tech school, we did a ten minute space walk in orbit above Libron so we could have a little mark on our diplomas that showed we did it,. and tThe second time was now, waiting for the airlock to depressurize.

I forgot about the clear plastic I was looking out of and my hand smacked against it, as I tried to scratch my nose. Delroy managed a grim smile.

"When the red lights flash, make sure you hit that button on your wrist console."

I looked, realizing I should have paid more attention during that token spacewalk at school. There weren't any symbols on the touchpad affixed to my left wrist--rather unintuitive compared to what I dealt with every day. The maintenance chief reached over and pushed a green button and my feet suddenly felt heavy. Magnetized bottoms. The red strobe flashed in unison with the klaxon as the airlock bled out any remaining air. My ears popped, as I felt my body lose its heft, grounded to the floor only by the magnetized soles of my boots.

The airlock opened, revealing the fleet that surrounded us, only now without the usual glass barriers of ports. For a split second, as I clomped out to the edge, my mind expected the roar of engines, maybe a sonic boom from the trio of vipers that sped past in formation.

Delroy looked down at me from the ladder leading up top, as I did a poor job of concealing my awe at the infinity that swallowed us.

"Don't get vertigo, on me, Jay. Barfing in one of these things isn't something you want to experience."

I clomped out, onto the ladder's rungs as my body reconciled the lack of a true up and down.

Up top, I could see the entire repair platform, tethered by a series of drawbridges that ferried zero-g mechanics and technicians, who were beginning the immense task of patching up the hole left by an incomprehensible plea to the Cylons. Raptors hovered, spotlights shining in our direction, toward the blast point under us.

"On your touchpad, turn to channel 12," he said and I did.

I walked as smoothly as I could, despite the feeling that my feet were slogging in glue, along the width of the refinery ship. I couldn't resist getting a look at the Lady, hard-sealed fifty meters below. I fought the urge to jump down onto her roof. I'd been working on that ship for six years, but I had never actually touched the outside of her.

"Can you hear me," ?" Delroy said asked, behind me.

"What? Oh, sorry, I--"

"Yeah, it's pretty cool. Gets old quick, though. This is a private channel. The walls have ears, you know."

Turning to face him, I nodded. My and the crew's complicity in all this slid back to the front of my mind. I figured he probably knew that Phelan provided the charges, maybe even the plastique that provided the juice for the blast. If he knew that we were the pickup depot, he wasn't letting on.

"I'm just going to say it, Jay. Phelan wanted this to happen, and I know why."

I gestured for him to go ahead, doing my best to maintain eye contact, even though I had the urge to duck when the trio of Vipers on patrol passed within 200 meters at eye level.

Delroy looked despondently down at the layers of ships underneath us, ; the blue helmet light lent even more gloom to the lines in his face.

"We don't have to deal with Phelan like you do. Since we make the gas--and refine anything else that gets mined--we're always under the military's watchful eye. He doesn't have any leverage with us. He'd been trying to broker deals for shipping space, a few drums a month of undocumented fuel, shit like that. Our XO, me, the deck chief, the engine room's chief and the plant foreman, are a sort of mini-council that decides how we trade. You got me so far?"

I nodded. It was possible, but not rational. If Phelan was anything, he was coldly rational.

"Right," he continued. "We're the only people he needs more than he we needs thehimm. And it pisses him off. That's why he threw out a couple of lines to Fisk and Pegasus, and the fat frakker bit."

I opened my mouth, to ask him what Fisk had to do with this, since he was evidently being a good soldier behind the newly christened Admiral Adama, but a raised glove cut me off.

"It all hinges on Fisk. If Fisk is in on this, it's bad. If Phelan's going head to head with him, this whole network could collapse in short order and…" Delroy jutted a finger in my direction. "you You guys'll be one of the crews that fall the hardest. Your girlfriend's in the cabinet, and you've been seen with Betrand, who's up to his neck in this shit, as we know."

I knew full well what could happen. We would be one of the groups that got hammered the worst if this ever came to light. Turf war with a battlestar would be suicide. I remembered the silver keycard to Bertrand's penthouse that I always carried.

"I'll do what I can on my end, Delroy, but I don't have any juice with Phelan, really. Even with Bertrand, I--"

"We're gonna hafta fight this one. If Fisk needs a fall guy or two for this, he can drop the hammer on anyone in the network. Your patron in the Q-12 is a paper tiger, anymore. Phelan's getting way too big. The question is, what are we all gonna do about it?"

I shrugged. "Not much we can do. We sure as hell can't go to Roslin with this--"

"Why not," ?" Delroy snapped. "This isn't about keeping warm at night, Jay. People are gonna end up dead. A dozenTen of my people already have. Our own godsdamn godsdamned network just gave power to fringe looneys--"

"Roslin and Adama are too tight," I said. I wasn't one hundred percent sure that was true, but from what Diana would tell me it seemed to be the case. A small current of shame did run through me, as I realized that keeping my secret from Diana was a factor. Yeah, I was willing to pull my punches to keep her around. "Roslin's never gonna go to the Admiral with that shit. No way. What'll happen is, Fisk'll end up spearheading the damn hunt, and then we're back to our worst worst-case scenario."

The glass on Delroy's faceplate fogged briefly as he sighed. "We can't afford some kinda mob war, Jay."

"We can't afford some kinda mob war, Jay."

I glared at him, feeling as if he were trying to dump this in my lap. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"What do you want me to do about it?"

He smiled bitterly. "What all of us have been doing--"

A light blinked on his suit's touchpad. He switched channels, listened, thenand then nodded to me to head back down to the airlock.

"We just got news on the guys trapped in the elevator shaft. Let's go."

V

Delroy led the way, as we sifted through the crowd, bustling with crewmen, marines, some press and, not surprisingly, Jasper Bertrand, who had evidently decided face time was indeed needed.

The marines were hoisting up the welders and, behind them, grateful Daru Mozu crewmen. One of the soldiers undid Toby's harness as people patted him on the back, thanking him, as they did the others that cut through the steel that stood between the men in that elevator car and freedom. I grinned and Toby rolled his eyes a little, but I could tell he was proud as he peeled out of his welding suit to the chorus of cheers and snapping flashes. I managed to sidle up next to Bertrand, making damn sure there wasn't a microphone in my face. He beamed at me, ever conscious of the dirt mongers, and that prompted me to soften my expression, but not my words, as I gestured for him to lean in.

"We need to talk."

"I can get you in tomorrow morning, Krenzik, no prob--"

I grinned as warmly as I could. "I'll catch a ride with you when you leave, that good?"

"I'll catch a ride with you when you leave, that good?"

He wanted to scowl, as the muscles in his face did everything they could to resist the shape of his grin.

"Fine, fine. Where's your girlfriend, I would have expected her to be here front and center."

I shrugged. "She doesn't have that flair for cross-promoting that you do, councilman. She's probably with the flight crew."

Bertrand shook his head. "I met with the captain when I boarded. He was wondering where Thalyka was. She's aboard Colonial One, but," he made double quotes with his fingers. "She's 'unavailable.'"

I shrugged. "That's…frakked up."

He nodded. "Meet me in on the flight deck, ready to go, in ten minutes. I have to continue my meet and greet."

With that, I saw nothing but his back as he fired up the Jasper Betrand spin machine. This had to be a another victory for him, since everyone involved in this operation were techies was a tech in his stable,. and Tom Zarek's free labor was nowhere to be seen, although I'm sure they'd be by soon enough. There was a ton of work to do. I was sure a ton of "come together" rhetoric would soon follow.

VI

Bertrand yammered in my ear, after ordering the pilot to take our shuttle on a round of the fleet, so we could talk before he dumped me off. As much as I needed to give him a piece of my mind, my thoughts weren't entirely with him. While I waited for him, their pilot let me raise Colonial One on the wireless. The mouthpiece on the other side gave me the same answer--"Unavailable, please leave a message." He was unflappable, even after I told him who I was. On some level it did feel good that uttering my name could have some minimal impact on the powers that be, but the wall they imposed left memories of the coup and the Gideon. Maybe that's because what lie lay on the horizon could make the Gideon massacre look like a fishing accident.

"…so there's a lot of different areas in play, here, Krenzik. You have to understand that," Bertrand said, as I had to make a point to look him in the eye.

"Well, some of that shit came into play off my cargo hold."

My cargo hold. That still didn't feel quite right. No matter, it was true. I was saddled with the responsibility, and the buck stopped with me. I let those charges get off the Lady.

"I know, Krenzik. This is…unfortunate. Nobody anticipated--"

"Scuttlebutt is Phelan let 'em."

Jasper Bertrand's brow creased. "Now come on, Krenzik. You mechanics are worse than a sewing circle sometimes. Yes, Phelan was the one who brokered the deal, but neither of us anticipated that the terrorists actually had someone on the Daru Mozu, or any other key vessel. Besides, that would put him at odds with Commander Fisk, who has been a huge boon to our operations."

His lips stretched into a rueful grin, then. "Zarek has even decided to play along, and be part of the network. It really makes everything a lot smoother."

I just stared at him for a moment. "Twelve people are dead, indirectly because of you, me, and Phelan and--"

"Twelve people are dead, indirectly because of you, me, and Phelan and--"

"What do you suggest we do," ?" he snapped, leaning toward me. "We rolled the dice and came up snake eyes, Krenzik. Bottomfeeders and lesser men would panic. We will turn negatives into positives. That's the whole reason Jahee and his people have gotten support, anyway. The military got a taste of victory, and there is a possibility our mission to Earth could be put on the backburner for more sneak attacks against the Cylons. We gambled this would put the issue on the table with perhaps a minor hostage crisis, not this."

I wanted to slam him up against the bulkhead-- , hammer some sense into his head with my knuckles, but I stayed seated, remembering that hatch full of kids I let go, so I could protect Diana and save Candi. The only difference between Libron's Council Representative and me was the fact that I actually felt some guilt over this--, but that didn't stop me from my underlying complicity. I had too much to lose across the board.

"I know about the kids, and--"

"Kids? What kids?"

His mock bewilderment was hamfisted, at best. I expected more from humanity's last aerospace magnate. "Don't bullshit me. Phelan is trafficking children for some reason. Even some of his prostitutes are a year or more away from being legal."

"Don't bullshit me. Phelan is trafficking children for some reason. Even some of his prostitutes are a year away or more from being legal."

"How do you--?"

"Doesn't matter how. All I know is I keep getting surprised. I feel like I might end up being a scapegoat. And you might have a little accident, yourself--"

"You listen here, Krenzik! I don't know what set you off, but you need to calm the hell down."

I felt a surge of pleasure and a palpable sense of leverage where it never could have been even last week.

"Fisk knows, too. Fisk is probably a big reason that nobody off the Picon liner or anywhere else has raised any hell over the last couple months. Now, Phelan just rolled out the red carpet for somebody to punch a hole right under the Admiral's nose. Hell, a pilot damn near lost a wing just yesterday because one of those surrender freaks sabotaged shells. You think he's gonna sit by and just let this roll. ? Fisk'll jump at the chance to come after who's responsible."

I had actually rendered Jasper Bertrand speechless. A thin sheen of sweat formed on his high forehead.

"Councilman, it appears that there's one group who is expendable in all this. A rinkydink freighter who already supplies the black market with, at my estimation, half their white liquor supply. Who'd give a frak if a bunch of slimebuckets from Libron who gave a leg up to some terrorists got mowed down or rotted in Galactica's brig, out of sight and out of mind?"

"Trust me. I'll figure out what's going on with Phelan and Zenar. The last thing we need are the natives to get restless along the network."

"We'll see what happens with Fisk," I told him. "That's the key. This whole operation could implode. And who's gonna go down with it?"

The pilot notified us that we had come back around and would dock fore with the Lady momentarily.

"No one. Nobody wants that."

"Nobody wanted to wake up one day and jump into the Promar sector either, did they?"

Bertrand clapped a hand on my shoulder as I turned to leave, after we achieved hard seal.

"It's like I told you. There's a future beyond this tub if you want it badly enough. You've shown you do, and it's there for you, no matter what's coming. I need good men and women around me, Krenzik. We're in this together, now. Whether either of us like likes it or not."

I just nodded, rose, as the raptor's hatch dropped.

"I'll do what I need to so I can protect my end. Just like anybody else."

Bertrand nodded, this time smiling knowingly.

"That's what we're all doing, here, Krenzik. And that's why our ships sail in the same direction."