The dark, cold, musty storeroom of the pirate's asteroid base was eerily silent, despite being filled with women and children. Jolly and Greenbean couldn't help but experience a sense of unease bordering on horror, as they peered into wide, frightened eyes from every vantage point in the gloom. Looking up, they could see a few dim or flickering lights, none emitting anything resembling decent illumination.
"We're not going to hurt you." Jolly directed his comment to a painfully thin woman gathering three small children to her chest. Her oily hair clung to her pale face as she gazed at them in distrust. Her tattered clothes probably did little to keep out the chill, and the children's wear was little better as they huddled against her seeking her warmth and protection. Jolly slowly re-holstered his weapon, nodding at Greenbean to follow suit.
"What do ye want then?" The woman asked hesitantly as she kept an eye on both men's blasters.
Jolly let out a breath, seeing the warmth of it condensing in the chill air. Lords, it stunk; the cold air reeking of unwashed bodies and untreated waste. It made the warrior both angry and nauseous. "I'm Lieutenant Jolly of the Battlestar Galactica. We need you to come with us."
"Why?" she asked, gently running her fingers through her daughter's filthy hair as the child whimpered, and turned her face into her mother's bosom.
"We're evacuating everyone from the base." Jolly replied.
"To where?"
"The Colonial Fleet for now."
"And just what would that be?" She asked quickly, her voice still quiet and respectful, yet insistent.
Jolly paused for a moment wondering how to explain the Fleet to these people. "Our home. It's not far from here."
"Would ye be inviting us to come home with ya then?" she asked, her eyes sparkling and her lips quirking in a coy smile as she slowly and blatantly assessed the warrior from head to toe.
"Uh . . . " For a moment, Jolly felt like a piece of meat in the butcher's shop, or a poultron tossed into the leon's cage at the zoo. Given the woman's obvious level of malnutrition, he hoped it was purely symbolic. He could feel the unlikely flush rising from his neck until he was certain he had personally improved the dim lighting with the obvious red glow on his face. He avoided Greenbean's amused countenance as he willed his high colour to return to normal. "I didn't mean it quite that way."
"A shame," she replied, turning her gaze to Greenbean. "And you? Would ya be looking to help us improve our situation? I promise to make it worth yer while." She absently leaned down and kissed another child's fair head as he began to squirm, briefly interrupting her negotiations.
"What's your name?" Greenbean asked her after a moment's consideration.
"Liadan."
"Liadan." The name sounded strange on his tongue. "I'm Lieutenant Greenbean. I give you my word as a Colonial Warrior that we'll improve your situation, as well as that of your children." Greenbean told her and then looked around the room. "That goes for all the women and children on this base," he announced, raising his voice to be heard across the room.
"Would ya lay your watch down as a guarantee of yer good word?" Liadan asked as she shushed her third child while meeting the glance of another mother who shook her head vehemently at the audacity of the request.
"My watch?" Greenbean asked, turning to Jolly and shrugging. He wrinkled his brow in confusion until he saw her tap her wrist. "My chrono?" He pointed to the same.
"Aye, your . . . chrono," she agreed.
"Did you happen to meet Starbuck?" Jolly asked the woman with a slight smile.
She shrugged in bemused denial before looking back to Greenbean. "Well then?"
"All right. If that's what it'll take for you to believe me." He pulled off the chrono and took a step forward, hesitating as the children burrowed unbelievably further into their mother's embrace.
"Ye don't understand, warrior." She held out her hand to take the chrono from him, wrapping her fist around it as if he might try to retrieve it at the last moment. "That's what it'll take for me to even begin to hope that I could ever believe ya."
"I . . . don't understand," said Jolly, raising his hands helplessly before him.
"Aye, but how could ya?" She said matter-of-factly. "Ye know naught of my life. Words are cheap, warrior," she said, biting down on the chrono as if testing its value. "Actions have value."
"Mama, I'm hungry," whispered one of the children, so tiny her words obviously surprised the men.
"Hush, Anya," said the woman, magically pulling a piece of root out of her dress and thrusting it into the child's reluctant hands. Even her own father forgot she was almost three, the despicable, drunken piece of . . .
"But I'm hungry!" whined Anya, oblivious to all else. She pushed the root away, making a sour face and blinking her eyes as the tears welled up in them.
"I said..." began Liadan briskly, but Jolly interrupted.
"Hungry?" he asked, his question addressed to the whole pitiful group.
"What would ya know about being hungry, warrior?" asked Liadan. It was almost a taunt. She indicated his ample waistline. "Ye don't miss many meals, from what I'm seein'."
"You know naught of my life," Jolly replied, parroting the woman, as always a tad sensitive in that area. By the look on her face as she raised her eyebrows slightly and nodded in his direction, absorbing his words, he realized she would like to correct that particular situation. But then, she would probably do anything to 'improve her situation'. . . or anybody. It clearly wasn't personal. "Actions, you said?" He drew his commlink, and pressed the key. "Jolly here."
"Copy you, Lieutenant," came Apollo's voice.
"We've found some more people down here, Skipper. A door behind a pile of crates. Women and children mostly. A few insensate men reeking of alcohol." He noted Liadan's look of disgust at that. "They're malnourished, Captain. We need some emergency rations down here on the double. And a med tech."
"Copy that, Jolly," came the reply. "The rations are on the way."
Jolly turned to his partner, and Greenbean nodded, motioning to the people to begin moving. "Actions," Jolly said, looking back at Liadan. "Actions."
----------
They were on Sheba like a half-starved felix on the scent of its prey. Well, if her brilliant plan was to get their attention, she had definitely succeeded. For a moment she remembered that Starbuck had recently destroyed a pursuing Viper flying in a ship not that dissimilar from these Wraiths. He had simply outflown the more powerful fighter that wasn't designed for racing through the narrow space corridors that the asteroid belt presented.
Then again, she wasn't flying against Starbuck. Not that she'd ever tell him how much she respected his skills as a pilot; he'd be even more insufferable than he was now. She grinned as she thought about those very first impressions of him. Yes, it took both time and insight to get to know the man behind the façade.
Instead, she was up against two pirates, and no daughter of Cain would let herself be the least bit intimidated by fly-blown gutter rot like them. She slammed her control stick forward in an inherent reaction to the narrow beam of light that she had sensed before actually seeing it. They had been firing on her steadily since creeping up on her position as they flew deeper into an especially congested field of rocks. She pulled her stick hard to the right and then slammed it back in the opposite direction avoiding another imminent piece of space debris, as she wound her way through the obstacle course.
Her scanner beeped; they were jamming her once again. Yeah, their witty repartee had ceased after they realized she could outfly them with her eyes closed . . . oh, and without her fighter too. Unfortunately, unlike Starbuck, she wasn't at all familiar with these particular clusters of large rock, and she was getting increasingly frustrated that the route away from the shuttle seemed to be leaving her less and less room to maneuver her craft.
She hugged the underside of the largest asteroid she had seen in some time, following its curve as she attempted to double back and return to a more Viper-friendly battleground. Of course, that left her open to a divided attack, but then they probably weren't clever enough to figure . . .
She jerked her control stick to the right, just about tearing it out of its mounting as she narrowly evaded collision with another Viper. Her heart almost leapt out of her chest and she released a jagged, gasping breath. "Holy frack . . . " It had been a little too close, and the fact that she had almost taken another Colonial Warrior out with her left her feeling nauseous and shaken.
And then she saw the Wraith
Resolve settled over her, suppressing all but her calm and careful consideration as she lined up the relatively small fighter by sight. At the last micron, she adjusted her aim, thinking again how much they could potentially learn from the fascinating technology if they could study it. She fired.
The fleeting beam of light erupted into a vibrant burst of flame as her shot connected. She grinned in satisfaction as her absent systems began coming back on line, no longer affected by the Wraith's jamming mechanisms.
"Da, I'm hit!" The young man's voice was high pitched with terror. Sheba looked again at her target. The craft was visibly slowing, and trailing vapour and debris, sparkling brilliantly in the distant sunlight.
"Easy, son. I'm comin'." The determined partner replied.
"This is Lieutenant Sheba of the Battlestar Galactica. I am locked onto you, target craft. Surrender now. Both of you." She couldn't see any sign of the other Wraith. He had to be on the other side of the asteroid and slightly out of scanner range. Hopefully, the other Viper was on his tail.
"Da . . . my air . . ." the voice squeaked and gasped. In the background, Sheba could hear the whistle of an air leak.
"Koreg, switch to secondary life support systems!" The voice quavered as the instructions were shouted to the younger man.
" . . . Da . . .!" It seemed a piteously long and strangled plea as the last bit of oxygen was exhausted from the cockpit of the lightweight fighter. With a final, horrid choke, all fell silent.
"Koreg!" The naked grief filled the airwaves.
Sheba blinked furiously at the sudden inexplicable prickling behind her eyes. She shook her head trying to get control of herself. Taking someone's life hadn't been so personalized before. From day one in a cockpit, it had always been Cylons. Soulless machines. But now . . . to hear someone take his last gasping breath . . .
"Ya bitch! Ya killed him!" The gruff voice cracked with despair. "Ya killed my boy!" The alien craft began to swing around towards Sheba's position. At once, narrow bands of light screamed across her bow even as she pulled up to evade them.
"This is Lieutenant Boomer. Power down your ship. Surrender now, and we'll bring in your boy. Give him a decent burial." Boomer's steady voice flooded the comm. "Your base is secured by Colonial Warriors, and your people are preparing to be evacuated. If you don't cease fire and surrender, you'll be joining your son shortly. Your choice. Locked on target."
Sheba closed her eyes, awaiting the answer.
A grievous groan preceded the response, "You'll rot in Hell for this. Bastards!"
"Well, that can't be as bad as Hades Hole." Boomer shrugged. "Do you concede? Yes or no? Three . . . two . . ."
"Aye. I concede." The Wraith slowed, and dropped her gear.
"Okay, Boomer." Sheba breathed. "Let's take them home."
----------
Where the frack are you Boomer?
Starbuck might as well have been in the fracking shuttle, strapped to a stretcher and under the influence of a good pain killer, for all the progress he was making in his fighter. They would be out of the damned asteroid belt in a few centons, and instead of blasting ahead full turbos, he would be settling back in the ole rocking chair for a leisurely amble on home as shuttle escort.
"Giles, how are Rooke and Dickins doing?"
"They're holding their own, Starbuck. Still critical though. We'll be taxing the turbines as soon as we clear the last hunk of rock," he replied. "Are you going to raise the Galactica?"
"Yeah. They'll need some advance notice to organize Red and Green Squadrons to launch." He knew that Adama wouldn't leave the Fleet unprotected if he decided to rendezvous with Apollo.
"There should probably be some word on Luana by now, Bucko." Giles mentioned.
"Yeah." Starbuck replied softly. He'd been trying not to think about it too much. Yeah, right Starbuck. It's almost all you've been thinking about since leaving Boomer behind to help Sheba.He was reasonably certain that the lieutenants could easily handle a couple underpowered Wraiths, though the fact that they hadn't returned raised a couple questions. However, their transponder signals showed up intermittently, affected by the asteroid belt's interference, so that boded well.
He adjusted the Viper's internal temperature. Lords, it was beginning to feel like he was working under the hot sun on the desert planet of Borellus, or laying on a hot slab in a sauna. He reached beneath his seat for the emergency rations, desperate for a gulp of water. Why didn't you think about this earlier? Hades, your mouth has been as dry as an Otori bacchanalia since before Sagan was in diapers . . . or at least for six or eight centars.
Shifting his helmet, he raised the bottle to his lips, gulping down the tepid liquid. It was pure nectar. For an brief moment he thought he might just vomit it all up again, something sure to thrill Giles, but he took a few deep breaths, willing the liquid to stay put.
" . . . free and clear."
Ensign Varick's voice penetrated his moment of nauseated introspection as his flight helmet dropped back into place. Starbuck blinked, feeling the tears run down his face from between his swollen eyelids. He looked up smiling in relief to see the vastness of space before him and activated his comm. "Viper Two to Galactica, come in." He waited, listening to the crackle of space. "Repeat, this is . . ."
"We read you, Viper Two," Rigel responded.
"Lieutenant Starbuck. Report." Adama's tone seemed both pleased and abrupt.
"Commander, we're en route to the Fleet with the shuttle carrying injured. Two pilots from the Pegasus, as well as men from . . . " It still seemed unbelievable to be saying it, "Earth." For a long moment, there was only silence.
"Earth?" Adama stuttered. "Are you certain?" He held up his hand to quiet the din that suddenly overcame the bridge.
"Yes, Sir. Their space shuttle is on the pirate base, Commander. Two of the men, one a Pegasus pilot, are in critical condition. It's a long story, but Captain Apollo wants to tear that base apart, removing the people and the resources, not to mention that Earth ship. It would be a strategic base for Cylons, Commander. Practically made to order for them. We can't leave it in one piece."
"What resources, Starbuck?"
As unlikely as it seemed, his mind went blank. What the frack did Apollo want from that devil's pit? The Endeavour and . . .
"Commander, Flight Sergeant Giles here." He could hear Starbuck's audible sigh of relief as his comrade spoke up. "The hangar is huge, Sir. And it's filled with scrap from endless scavenged ships, not to mention the raw ore from the mine which Sheba's initial scan identified. Then there's an edible root that the entire community has been subsisting on."
"Edible?" Starbuck muttered in disbelief. "Depends on how you define 'edible'."
"Lieutenant Starbuck?" Adama asked, barely hearing the comment.
"Tastes like grainy ammonium, Sir." Starbuck felt the sweat trickling down his face and body as he reset the environmental controls yet again. He was going to wear the damn thing out at this rate. "Cylon landing bay door lubricant would taste better."
"Starbuck, is the flavour of the root a pertinent part of your report?" Adama asked after a moment's reflection of the inappropriate comment. His annoyance at the young man's blatant disregard for protocol when the lieutenant made the decision to pursue the pirates without consulting command, was barely contained. Of course, that was now counter-balanced with the fact that they had found evidence of the Pegasus' survival, and now men from Earth. He sighed deeply, awaiting the officer's reply.
"Sorry, Sir," Starbuck muttered, knowing this was probably the wrong time to ask, but since he was already in the daggit house . . . "Commander . . . is there any word on Ensign Luana?"
"Tigh?" Adama asked his executive officer.
"Commander, I just spoke to Dr. Salik in the Life Station. Ensign Luana just came out of surgery. She's medically stable." Tigh's jaw tightened, knowing that he had omitted many of the relevant facts, but this was not the time or the place to explain to Starbuck.
"Surgery?" Starbuck choked out, his gut dropping down to his toes with news.
"She had a subdural hematoma from a head injury." Tigh elaborated. "We don't have a prognosis at the moment though."
"Frack . . ." A tightness seemed to band around his chest, crushing the very air from his lungs. "But she's going to be okay?" he rasped, closing his eyes and swallowing the landram-sized lump in his throat as he awaited the colonel's response.
"Honestly, I'm not sure, Starbuck. There were other circumstances." Tigh replied. "Dr. Salik will have to give you more information once you get here."
"Commander Adama," Giles interrupted. "Captain Apollo recommended the Galactica rendezvousing with the asteroid base. He felt the Galactica's missiles would destroy the base in a fraction of the time it would take to rig enough explosives to blow it up. Also, it would save us the time it would take to shuttle the necessary retrieval teams all the way to the belt and then through it."
"Agreed. Tigh, organize the necessary equipment and people and have them board the Galactica for transport. Inform Red and Green Squadrons that they will be flying escort for the Fleet." Adama ordered. "Plot a course for the shuttle to rendezvous with us. We'll pick them up on the way, and get the injured to Life Station as soon as possible."
Starbuck could hear the commander rattling off more orders and then signing off, but it was only a distant drone in his ears. His mind refused to concentrate on the words transmitting over the comm line like the monotone buzz of an apiary that seemed to draw further and further away. He swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat as his fear for Luana consumed him.
He backed off on his thrusters instinctively as he narrowed his eyes, noticing how his peripheral vision was greying around the edges. His extremities were beginning to tingle and he could almost mentally trace the medial pathway as the strange sensation crept through his body. He opened his mouth to say something, noting the tingling in his lips as well. With a shaking hand, he reached for the control to turn up the oxygen, but his numb fingers never made it. The blackness engulfed him swiftly and he slumped in his cockpit.