Boomer burst through the entrance of the Control Room, the echo of his own voice shouting Apollo's name still ringing in his ears. The captain sat in front of the console, his elbows resting on its surface and his head cradled in his hands. Somehow the defeatist posture, something he had never seen in Apollo, deflated the urgency. Still . . .
"Did you . . .?" Boomer asked, approaching his friend as he immediately scanned the equipment. The small indicator light above the switch bank was still steady.
"No." Apollo replied, dragging his fingers down his face and staring at the red button before him. "I couldn't. I . . . I feel like I've had this. . . this battle going on inside my head. I haven't felt this conflicted since E..." He stopped, realizing he had been about to mention his time on Equellus, and his almost overwhelming desire to stay there, not long after Serina's death, with Vela. "Since I had to leave Zac. Weird images. Ideas I can't explain. Boxey . . . Starbuck . . .Zac . . . even Ama."
Boomer nodded, reaching down and pulling Apollo's life mask up over his face. "Ama, eh? That's scary."
"Tell me about it," Apollo sniffed ruefully, "Is that it? Not enough oxygen?" He secured it behind his head, chagrined that he had overlooked something so simple. So obvious. Idiot! Any first-secton cadet knows better!
"I don't know." The lieutenant replied, "Honestly, I've been feeling a bit discombobulated myself. But I can tell you that when I decided to sit in the launch bay instead of getting out of here, it paid off. We have new orders. We're to abort. Apparently, if we had over-energized the Dynamos, the blast would have destroyed the entire asteroid belt, probably taking the Galactica with it."
"How the frack . . .?" Apollo asked, looking up at Boomer. His gut instinct had been right, but somehow his dedication to his duty had almost overrode that.
"I don't know. As you can imagine, I didn't stick around to ask for the full explanation." Boomer leaned over, changing screens and checking the environmental display. "We're losing life support fast, Apollo." He pointed to an indicator. "Another of the oxygen plants and an air pump have quit. We need to make some decisions and get out of here. Yesterday."
"Kill the power to the Dynamos, Boomer. We can take them out one by one with our Vipers after we set the main reactor to overload and blow the base." He looked at his friend, hoping he was familiar enough with the archaic equipment to rewire the settings.
Boomer nodded, reaching forward and snapping a bank of switches to off, then to be certain, grabbing a handful of wires, and ripping them out of a board. "Done. The Dynamos are dead." He changed screens again, checking the location of the remaining spheroids and downloading the information onto his datapad.
"Too technical for me," Apollo quipped, staring at the entangled wires in amusement. "Do you have the coordinates?"
"I do. Hit the button, Captain, and we'll get out of here."
"Boomer, why don't you . . .?"
"No, absolutely not. I'm not leaving you here alone again." Apollo opened his mouth, his eyes becoming full of that 'officer' look, but Boomer gave him no chance to speak.
"You can bust me down as far as you want when we get back to the Galactica, strip and module me till I need a telescope to look up to a cadet, but we're going together." He shifted position to check the readouts on the reactor. He frowned. If this junk was to be believed, the tritium, the heavy hydrogen used as fuel for the reactor was edging close to depletion. At the current burn rate, the reactor would die in less than a secton. Maybe sooner. "Look, Apollo. Reactor power level is dropping too fast. If we don't overload her now, we won't have the fuel to light one of Starbuck's weeds." He looked from the console to his CO. " We don't have time to argue about this."
Apollo blinked, then nodded briefly, wondering if once again the lack of oxygen was making him go down this familiar path, removing his subordinate officer from danger if at all possible. But Boomer was right. He could feel the cold beginning to seep into his bones, and could detect the slowing of his motor functions that indicated a variation in the environmental gravity. "Did I ever tell you, you've been hanging around Starbuck too much?" He rose to his feet. "Way too much."
"I believe you've mentioned it once or twice." Boomer smiled behind his life mask as he watched the captain depress the button and the main reactor power levels begin to rise on the readouts. "You can sentence me to the sanitation barge once we've saved the Fleet once again."
"Let's get the Hades Hole out of here." Apollo led the way, even as the bleep from the console began, and the noise of the reactor started to build.
"Last one to the OC buys a round." Boomer yelled as they headed to the pirate hangar for the last time.
----------
The mood was cautiously optimistic.
"T plus three centons." Athena told them, her eyes not leaving her scanners as she kept watch for any indication of an explosion.
"We should be well out of the blast zone by now, Commander." Tigh added.
"Very well. Hold this position, Tigh. Are we still within communications range?" Adama asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Keep trying to raise Apollo and Boomer. Now, Commander Dayton, tell me the most effective and safe way to destroy these Dynamos." Adama ordered, turning to face the Earthman who had remained near Starbuck, as he curiously watched the events unfold.
"Honestly, I'm not really sure, Commander." Dayton admitted, his hands clasped behind his back. "They kept us away from those systems. Again, I'm aware of the incredible energy they can emit, but just how to go about destroying them . . ." He shrugged.
"Commander Adama, I destroyed the one that blasted Apollo's Viper without incident." Starbuck told him. "One salvo, dead on."
"Right after it discharged?" Dayton asked, turning from Adama to Starbuck, an idea obviously forming in his head.
"Yes," Starbuck agreed, recalling his fury and his need to incinerate the strange spheroid that had disabled his friend
"That might be key, Commander Adama." Dayton pointed out. "If they're inert, they're likely less dangerous. I did once hear Bex say something about the time it took them to recharge. I don't recall how long that was, but I gathered that once they'd shot their bolt, they were helpless."
"Makes sense, Commander Adama," said Starbuck, looking between the two men. "I got as close to that thing as from here to the other side of the Bridge, and it just sat there, sir. It was disabled."
"Agreed." Adama nodded curtly. "Lieutenant Starbuck, take Commander Dayton to the War Room." He motioned to the two guards. "I'll join you there momentarily."
"Yes, Sir."
----------
Starbuck motioned for Dayton to precede him into the War Room, and then followed, Timeus and Koradon flanking the door on the outside. Despite his relief at the Galactica escaping intact, and the apparent safety of his friends, the lieutenant was still wired with anxiety and anger at Dayton for getting them into the situation. He slammed the door, a little harder than necessary, shutting out the Security Officers, and then whirled on the Earthman, finding himself nose to nose with the Space Shuttle Commander.
The older man looked as though he had expected the confrontation, and, as before, stuck himself right in the lieutenant's face, leaving no doubt that he felt himself ready for any eventuality. "Problem, Lieutenant Starbuck?" he snapped, utilizing a voice that he had once reserved for the intimidation of young officers for years before that fateful day in July, 2010. He didn't want to fight the young man, especially since he looked like death warmed over, but he would if he had to. Starbuck had been itching for this since their encounter in the Control Room of the pirate base. Perhaps it was inevitable.
"Just what the frack were you trying to pull, Dayton?" Starbuck snarled, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dayton snapped back. "I made a mistake. A miscalculation in a very complex set of equations, based on a paucity of hard data. That's all there is to it." It wasn't just his ass on the line. If he admitted to his deadly intentions, Ryan and the others would wear it too. They would lose all the credibility with the Colonials that their affiliation with Earth had granted them.
Starbuck let out a short breath. "Now I have a hard time buying that, pal. I might not know you that well, but I do know that you usually have your own agenda. Just like you did back in the Control Room when you killed that attendant." He glared into cold, grey eyes that stared stubbornly back at him.
"Bring it on, Half-Caf. If you're questioning my integrity and have a bone to pick with me, I'd be more than happy to wipe up the floor with your sorry carcass." Dayton growled, knowing he could snap the warrior's neck in an instant if he timed it just right . . . though in retrospect, it might not look very impressive to the leader of the Colonial people who would be walking in the door at any moment. Damn, whatwasit about this kid that made him lose his cool so quickly and so completely?
"Listen old man, I know you have some combat training, I've seen it in action, but just remember something. So do I," Starbuck sneered at him, waiting for that certain look in the other's eyes that indicated he was going to make a move. Since they had started up their self-defense and hand-to-hand combat training through the cadet program, he'd picked up some useful moves himself. Some of them made his old street fighting days in Caprica City look more like playschool ruckuses
"Old man?" Dayton asked, his lip curling in disdain, his need to prove himself to the younger man overcoming his reason as he made his play. After all, he could modify things a little and just teach the cocky bastard a lesson. He glared at the lieutenant, recognizing that hint of a smile. The little bugger was enjoying himself! He smiled back.
Just as one of his old instructors had told him long ago, Starbuck could see the intent in his eyes just before his adversary moved. And since you can't teach an old daggit new tricks, he had a damn good idea what that move would be. He countered it with the speed of youth, and the instinct of someone who had been struggling and fighting to survive since he was found wandering in the Caprican Thorn Forest at the age of two.
As soon as Starbuck felt Dayton grab the hair at the back of his head—the older man moving with the speed of a striking serpent—the lieutenant twisted his body in the same direction, changing the jerking movement into a fluid motion and upsetting the Earthman's balance. Now pulled back against Dayton's chest, Starbuck reached behind him, and simultaneously dropped to his knees, again catching the commander off guard, upsetting the beginnings of a strangle hold. Instead, he grasped Dayton's collar and a whole handful of hair, and he heaved the other forward over his shoulder.
It was Dayton who ended up in front of Starbuck, roughly jerked back against the warrior's chest, an elbow wrapped around his throat, threatening to crush his windpipe.
"Lieutenant Starbuck! Stand down! That's an order!"
And he started to, his head whipping around to see Adama in the doorway, shaking in fury at the melee in his War Room—which was actually kind of appropriate, but Starbuck was probably the only one who saw it that way. That was when Dayton grabbed him by the jaw, as if he could rip half of his face off through pure determination. The warrior grunted, and tried to pull away, but Dayton held on. Starbuck, in turn, drilled him in the side of the head. A mere micron later, the warrior felt the Earthman's fist slam him where it hurts the most and his vision filled with stars. He groaned, his breath expelling reflexively, deflating his lungs so thoroughly that he wondered if they would ever fill up again.
"Enough!" Adama stormed towards them, Tigh on his heels like some overprotective guard daggit, and Timeus and Koradon bringing up the rear. "Release him! Now!"
Then hands were on them, tearing them apart. Starbuck found himself dragged back on his astrum, his head spinning as he tried to catch his breath, and Adama's hand on his collar as Tigh pulled Dayton in the opposite direction.
"By all the Lords of Kobol, what is going on here?" Adama roared, glaring down at the supine lieutenant like the Wrath of Heaven.
"Sorry, Sir . . ." Starbuck wheezed, starting to gingerly sit up, but he was hampered by his Commander's unrelenting grip . . . which on at least one level might have been a good thing, given how he felt below the waterline.
"Not what I asked for, Lieutenant Starbuck. I want an explanation, and I want it now!" Adama demanded, not letting go of the younger man's collar, and half tempted to grab a hold of his ear lobe and twist it until Starbuck cried out for his mother's brother . . . however unlikely that was. This was not the behavior he expected of his senior officers, it was more typical of a barroom brawl. And it didn't matter that Starbuck was practically like family. Or it had ceased to matter . . .
"I . . . uh . . ." Starbuck looked from one Commander to the other. Tigh was actually helping Dayton up, but keeping a restraining hand on the other's shoulder. Dayton was breathing hard, manifestly trying hard to control his own anger, his left cheekbone glowing red where Starbuck's last blow had connected.
"Lieu-TEN-ant!" To say that Adama's voice was clipped, was like saying that being near a Cylon Base Ship was precarious.
"A difference of opinion, Commander Adama." Dayton inserted, seeing the conflicting emotions on Starbuck's face. No, the lieutenant didn't trust him, but he also realized he had nothing on him. He took a couple deep breaths to calm himself down, shrugging off Tigh's grip. There was nothing more unsettling than someone's restraining grasp upon him after enough years as a prisoner. "I'm afraid both our tempers seem to run a bit on the hot side of flammable."
"I expect more of my officers, Commander." Adama replied, his tone sharp as he let go of Starbuck, taking in his already battered appearance with blood trickling from a fresh scrape on his face. "This kind of , conduct would have warranted a secton in the brig prior to the Destruction, Starbuck."
"I know, Sir . . ." Starbuck started anxiously, shutting his mouth again immediately, and cringing at the thought of another micron in the brig. Memories of being charged with Ortega's termination and pacing within those four remorseless walls . . . Sagan's sake, he was in the daggit house for so much already, it wouldn't really surprise him if he was sent to the brig just to set an example for the cadets and ensigns that looked up to him and emulated him. What else could Adama do really? He'd be a laughingstock if he let Starbuck get away with it, even based on his recent experience. Lords, you're a dead daggit, Bucko. Better have an epitaph ready for your deathstone.
But then again . . .
"I understand, Sir. If you have to, you have to." His voice was suddenly calm and accepting, as he began to climb to his feet slowly, the events of the last couple days once again catching up with sore, tired muscles. He straightened up as best his battered body would permit him, and went to attention. "I await your judgment, sir."
Adama froze, then blinked, studying Starbuck intensely, shaking his head from side to side, wondering what was going through the warrior's head. This was about as far out of character as he could imagine, Starbuck actually encouraging his commanding officer to punish him with time in the brig.
"Commander," Tigh reminded him. "Borka and Kaden are in the brig awaiting Tribunal."
"Ah." Adama muttered, watching Starbuck's eyes drop guiltily from his own. He let out a deep breath of realization and frustration. "Lieutenant Starbuck. My quarters. Now." He motioned to the guards. "Make sure he doesn't get into any further trouble on the way."
"Sir."
"Tigh, now that Apollo and Boomer are safely away . . ."
"They're okay?" Starbuck interrupted, then snapped his mouth shut again as Adama's glare threatened to incinerate him on the spot.
"Yes." Adama blew out a breath between clenched teeth. "They've just launched. The Dynamos are inert, and the main reactor is set to blow. Now go." He nodded towards the door, watching Koradon take the warrior's elbow and remove him, Timeus following. "Tigh, plot a course to rendezvous with Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Boomer. Transfer the main display to this monitor. I'm sure Commander Dayton will be interested to see the demise of his former prison."
"Yes, Commander."
----------
As the Vipers' engines whined to life, and they began to race towards the Galactica, deep within the asteroid, separated from the hangar bay by over five hundred metrons of solid iron-nickel and rock, the reactor began cycling faster and faster. The magnetic flow intakes were opened wide, tritium fuel rushing into the main fusion vessel, alarms blaring, but with no one to hear them. The heat rose, higher and higher, until the cooling system, as programmed, shut down, leaving the archaic machine to run wild. Electrical power flowed at unprecedented levels to all sections of the base, bringing systems that had scarcely worked in ages to a pulsing, if brief, life. Lights blazed at incredible levels, pumps and filters came on-line, even the forcefield that protected the hangar shot up to full strength for perhaps the first time in yahrens.
No one saw the blips on the scanner, the last trace of the departing Vipers, as the power levels surged. The floor of the control room was now vibrating as the reactor ran ever faster, past the maximum safety limits. Soon the chair was shaking, dust and chips of stone raining down from the ceiling, and still it rose, quicker and quicker. Below in the bowels of the asteroid, the reactor was screaming, the light pulsing from the fusion vessel intolerable now, the vessel shaking as it gulped ever larger and more uncontrolled amounts of fuel. Rivets popped, and welds cracked, as the pressure in the reactor continued its unrelenting climb. The heat continued to rise, far above now what any Human could endure, as did the light and noise. Paint was running down the wall, radion seeping from the poorly-maintained reactor burning through doors and bulkheads, and still the roaring monster continued, devouring ever more fuel.
Light fixtures began to blow out as the power raced ever higher, then one system after another fried and died. Fires began to break out below as one system after another overloaded and blew out. It spread upwards through corridors and shafts, the flames greedily gulping oxygen as the reactor continued to scream like an endless choir of tormented souls in the eternal grip of damnation. Higher and higher . . .
"There!" said Tigh, pointing towards the expanding point of light from the Command Level of the Bridge. "There it goes."
"My God," said Adama, watching it on the monitor of the War Room, Dayton seated across from him, his eyes glued to the screen.
"Good Lord . . ." murmured Dayton, looking at the destruction of the only home he had known for the last thirty years.
"Yes." Adama nodded, watching the other as he likely relived several depths of Hades Hole in a single moment. "Now Commander, tell me about this . . . visitation you had from the Ship of Lights' Being, and how you came to realize your mistake."