BSG: BUMP IN THE NIGHT

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. This is me playing in the dark. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: okay, there are several things I need to let you guys in on up front.

First, this is LONG. Almost 5000 words. Seriously. I didn't intend for it to be this long, but things happen. It's action and action takes a lot of words to describe, even if the actual 'visual' time is really short.

Second, it took a while to get this posted because of the rewrites. This was the seventh. I had to pull stuff out, put stuff in, I didn't want to wreck action with other shots and make sure everything made sense. Egad.

Third, I'm battling a rather serious Skyrim addiction. I've gotten to level 54, just finished the Civil War for the empire (I didn't intend to be Imperial, but something happened early on and I said, okay, you want to attack me for no reason, you Stormcloak b***ard, I'll go Imperial). I'm about to marry Jarl Elisif and get into the meat of the Dragonborn... You get the idea. Oh, and I'm using a mod that lets me keep a diary, so 400+ pages of biographical reference material so far...

This is also the next to last chapter. Technically, I suppose it is the last chapter and the next one is the epilogue. This is the box with wrapping paper, the next is the pretty-ish bow.

Please let me know what you think one way or the other. Any constructive criticism will be appreciated. I know I've made mistakes. I hope the story has largely met with your approval.

Back to the bossfight, cue the big music.

Chaper 5

'Battlestars weren't supposed to collide.'

"...Eight... Seven... Six... Brace for impact."

Athena was amazed that Omega could sound so calm. A quick glance to the man she'd teamed up with made her feel better about herself. He exuded reasonable terror; fear sweat, wide eyes and an apparent need to vomit were things they shared. Across the room, Salek had managed to wrap himself around his nurses and get tucked under a broad-topped table. Cassiopeia looked up in time to catch her eye. Athena offered a hopeful thumbs up. That's when the universe decided to backhand them.

Gravity abandoned ship, letting the floor swoop away, leaving Athena, the DC techs and everything not bolted down floating in a brightly lit void. There was just enough time to see how much debris was flying free with them when the lights erupted into sparks and swallowing darkness. There was only an instant to realize that she was falling and then she hit. Hard. Screams merged with the atonal howl of Galactica's collision alarm. The midnight air like tasted burnt plastic smoke and blood. Metal slid and rang somewhere in the blackness. Her mind shouted 'Oxygen canisters' just as a wet crackle crushed one of the voices. The ship's lost soul agony was a low ringing sob, rising and falling, accompanied with a harsh vibration that carried through feet, hands, anything that touched metal. It didn't last long, but it also seemed to go on forever. The sudden, nearby sound of folding, popping sheet metal was far louder. Athena's blood chilled when a rattling growl sounded from just ahead and above.

Emergency lights flickered on, throwing spears of yellow/white light across the chaos. Athena hurriedly looked across the jumble for the others. The medical bay was a wreck. Everything that could move had been smashed and shoved into one corner. The tank caddies, gurneys, things from shelves, mobile isolation tubes and loose air tanks all filled one corner of the room. Out of the jumble hung a man's arm and leg.

The mindless, hungering groan came again. The sound drew her eye up the battered wall of refrigeration units at her shoulder. One of the dead was fighting, shoving its way out. The corpse hadn't been helped by the savage beating the ship had given it, but it couldn't bleed and it didn't care. It shoved against the resistant metal, making it deform and complain.

The dark haired woman searched quickly for her blaster. It was nowhere to be seen. The next best thing was a steel shaft sticking out of the mass of wreckage. She skittered over to it, attracting the monster's attention.

The beast ripped its skin as it wormed clumsily out of the drawer. It fell like a parody of birth, collapsing face first onto the floor. Before its legs were free, it flailed alternately pushing, pulling, trying to get to Athena any way it could.

She snatched the metal shaft and tugged hard. It refused to come. She jerked the metal hard, causing a yelp from within the pile. Startled she fell back, almost within reach of the monster. Quick but clumsy hands shoved debris aside and another of the damage control men revealed himself. "Frak!" he groaned as he pulled the base of the IV stand the woman had been pulling on from behind his back.

The monster fell the rest of the way onto the floor.

"Athena!" Salek called out. He hurled something at the clumsily rising beast. "Look out.

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Starbuck saw Laurentia hit, watched one of Galactica's thrust unit spew plasma, then wink out as the hull crumpled. A sudden woof of sparkling debris spread into the void. Bitter bile almost coated the inside of his canopy as he watched the huge mass of his battlestar kick down and to one side. He stared, transfixed.

A thick, corrosive green gout smashed into the front of his fighter. He felt the impact only distantly and saw the flames begin to eat into the hull in slow motion. A silent flash of purple/white and a voice in his helmet that brought him out of it.

"Starbuck, wake up," Zak ordered. "Get back in the game."

"Yeah, yeah." Starbuck shook his head and focused. "Frak. I've been hit with that green felgercarb. My fuselage is burning."

"I saw the hit," Zak said. "It probably won't kill you, but you have got a plasma fire. It can't sustain itself after a few microns. If you can last that long, you're good."

"Great."

"Don't eject if you can help it," Zak continued. "Creel dumped lemmies before Boomer popped him. Without a lyche they have no direction, but they're still active. They'll attack anyone they bump up against."

"Understood," Starbuck's head darted left, right and center; gauges, window, gauges, other window. "I think I'm okay."

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Omega was back in his seat and struggling with the broad console. Tigh had fallen hard, traitor gravity first sweeping him up to the rail, and then throwing him over. Pain had exploded in his arm and he was trying hard not to scream. Others weren't as successful.

There was noise everywhere; the hiss of automatic extinguishers, the harsh pop and crackle of electronics dying, the cries of the wounded. Something was coming in over the speakers, but for now it was an indefinable garble.

Commander Adama fought his way up to his knees. "Status report." His strong voice seemed to anchor those lost, give purpose to the ones struggling.

"Thrust unit seven has been destroyed," Omega called back. "Five and Eight are offline. Minor fires in the drive room. Unit seven is open to space. All bulkheads seem to be intact."

"Minor damage reports coming in from all over the ship," another voice chimed in. "Primary Energizers fluctuating... Engineering says they can control.

"All communications now online. We're still in contact with all fighters and with Warstar Elysium," a young woman with braided hair supplied. She turned. "Sir, Elysium says that many Cylons have failed, but that the second hulk..." she put her hand over her earpiece, "...Bonehawk... has dispatched wraiths to intercept us." She looked up, wide eyed. "Five hundred. They've sent five hundred wraiths." She looked down, listening, then back. "Sir, Admiral Agathon is ordering us back through the void. He's ordering Galactica to retreat... He says Fleet knows where we are, we are to pull back through the void and await retrieval."

Adama blinked. "Tigh? Where are you?"

"Down here," he gritted. "I think my arm is broken."

Adama loped/fell to the rail above his old friend. The black man looked up with a grimace. "Stay still," the old man said. "Help will be here soon."

"Find out how many fighters are currently engaging Elysium?" Adama asked.

"Sir, with our sensors so impeded we can't see the enemy fighters," Omega looked back at the Commander. "The only reason we can see Elysium is because they want us to."

"Sir," Rigel came back, "the Admiral says the number of fighters on Elysium is immaterial. There are five hundred headed our way. The warstar has been boarded and heavily invested. Soon she will be incapable of battle..." Rigel's eyes got very wide. "Sir, Admiral Agathon is going to order self destruct as soon as we are safely away."

Adama looked back, dumbfounded. "Self destruct?" The words were almost a whisper. "Galactica's crew is over two thousand. How many more are on..?"

"Elysium's sensors were made to operate here, Rigel, see if you can get bearing and distance from them." Adama blinked owlishly. "If we can get a firing solution for capitol missiles or our main battery..." He shook his head and pain bloomed. Sounds distorted. He lost the thread...

"Sir," Omega returned, "battle telemetry from Elysium gave us distance and bearing to the other baseship when we first established communications. At current speed can be within range in twelve centons. Unfortunately, according to Admiral Agathon, the wraiths are due in ."

Calculations whirled in the old man's head. Fifty thousand people behind him alone, except for Red Squadron. Two thousand here. Two, perhaps three times that number to be killed when Elysium self immolated. No Cylons seen in six sectars...

"If we run, Elysium dies," he said firmly. "Shape our course with battle telemetry, but verify our targets with Agathon and finally our own systems if possible. Rigel... Rigel..?" Adama grunted as he sat back hard. "Blue squadron is to... to retreat to the fleet..." he slumped against the handrail. "...Get Doctor Salek for Colonel..." He went down.

"Adama! Adama!" Colonel Tigh groaned as he fought his way to his feet. "Omega, get Salek up here now!" Every step he took was an agonizing labor.

"Sir, there's no answer from medbay," Omega announced worriedly.

"We should have eight relief pilots," Tigh nodded. "Get the four from alpha bay to medical. Tell them... tell them Salek could be under attack by lemures." He hated the way the word sounded, the way it tasted. "Get one of the radial emergency stations, have them send a medtech. Hurry."

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"HEY! HEY! HEY!" Cassiopeia threw a broken piece of something at the thing that had once been a Galactica crewman.

It hit the lemmie in the shoulder and bounced off. The dead man didn't turn. It just continued lunging, reaching frantically, trying to grab, tear and eat the person it had hunted into a corner.

Once the thing had seen her, Athena had done her best to keep its attention. She was the only warrior in the room. She had to keep it from the helpless and the wounded. There was no question of which was faster. It could lunge very quickly indeed and it moved as if it had never eaten before. Athena was more graceful, more agile. More than once she had just managed to dodge out of the way. After several near misses the chaos of the room had produce something she needed. It had taken a particularly acrobatic effort, but she'd finally managed to get on the other side of one of the gurneys and stay there. The beast had pushed and lunged and the dark haired woman had finally managed to trap herself in a corner with the gurney at an angle between the two walls. It wasn't a lot of room, but it was enough. Barely.

Across the room Salek and one nurse were trying to save the man buried in debris. He was badly broken and they were fighting hard to save him. Cassiopeia watched horrified as her one time rival was under attack. She looked around hurriedly, finally finding what she sought. The blonde jerked the blaster out of the wounded man's holster and strode towards the growling corpse like she meant business.

"Athena," she called out as she raised the pistol, "duck!"

The woman's eyes widened as she saw the blonde aim, then she dove down into her safe corner. There was the sound of a shot and she was peppered with stinking rain. Something fell.

"Athena," Cassiopeia cried out. "Athena, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said as she rose. A disgusted expression writhed over her features. "I just smell like a burnt equus pogeys." She looked between the decapitated body the blonde woman and gave a labored grin. "I thought I was coming down here to help you out."

Cass stepped closer and presented the pistol. "You did. You brought me a gun."

At that moment four warriors burst into the room.

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"Okay, our plan is in the turbo flush," Zak announced. "There are five hundred wraiths on the way over here to pound Galactica to scrap."

"Not again." The voice came from the Griffon Squadron commander, Captain Boomer.

"Silence on the net," Major Sheba commanded. "I'm in communication with Command right now."

"You can't seriously be thinking of leaving," Starbuck said. "Not now. Not when we came through to..."

"Now I remember the only good thing about you being dead, Starbuck," Sheba broke in. There was a long, pregnant pause. "You finally shut up."

"Not on Beta channel," the blonde volleyed.

"Starbuck," Lieutenant Boomer barked, "shut up."

The space around Galactica was filled with drifting wreckage. The biggest piece was the tortured, slowly rotating shell of Battlestar Laurentia, but the sky was full of broken ships and dead crews. Everyone sat in their silent fighters, watching the dead tumble by, each one wondering how much time they had before they joined in the macabre, drifting dance.

Galactica began to move. Six of eight drive units belched white and the big ship began to turn and accelerate away. Smaller pieces of junk were smashed aside as the last battlestar slid out from the shadow of the wreck.

"Okay, here's the brief," Sheba announced. "Admiral Agathon has ordered us to fall back across the void with Galactica and wait for retrieval by the fleet." She had to stop to clear her throat, knock the emotion away. "Elysium has been boarded and is heavily invested. He's going to get as many lemmies on board as he can and then blow the ship. He'll definitely take Acheri with him and most of Bonehawk's lemmies."

All the fighters were silent for a long moment until someone noticed which way Galactica had begun to sail.

"Major, Galactica's going the wrong way."

Lieutenant Boomer said nothing. He just heeled is Viper over and sped towards his base ship. It didn't take long to see that he wasn't trying to land. All alone, then in twos and threes Blue Squadron began to form on his six, until twenty-two fighters had joined the line.

"My section is going ventral, returning to CAP pattern." Starbuck said. He began to pull half the ships around, headed down. "Any idea what we're doing?"

Colonel Tigh answered. "Attention Blue Squadron. Commander Adama has been injured, I am now in command. You are instructed to fall back through the void and protect our civilian fleet until relief arrives."

"Sir, it is my understanding that Admiral Agathon has ordered Galactica to fall back as well." Boomer replied. "You're headed the wrong way sir."

"Felgercarb, I know what he's doing," Starbuck muttered. "He's doing the same bait-and-switch we ran on Baltar. Run them out of fuel pursuing us, then when they turn back, we re-engage."

"Doesn't work that way," Zak replied. "Lemmies don't run on fuel. Their movement is sort of a telekinetic effect granted by the local deathlord. That's why Creel's wraiths fell apart, but the lemmie pilots are still dangerous."

"Thank you for verifying the Commander's theory, Captain," Tigh said. "We're going to get Galactica into pulsar range and destroy the hulk commanding the fighters. When they disintegrate, we'll take the fight closer to Elysium until we control the local sky. After that we send your marines to reclaim the warstar."

"Sir, five hundred wraiths will overwhelm Galactica's point defense," Sheba pointed out. "You'll need fighter cover to keep them from just ramming you to death."

"I reiterate the orders Admiral Agathon gave you," Colonel Tigh said. "You are to proceed back through the void to our civilian fleet and wait for retrieval by the fleet."

"Colonel, you're aware that Blue Squadron has already returned to combat patrols," Zak pointed out.

"I am and when this operation is over, I will personally place a disciplinary notation in their records to be reviewed by Commander Adama at his earliest convenience."

Zak grinned broadly. "Major, Blue Squadron doesn't have the speed or hangtime we do here..."

"Enough. I'm responsible for forty eight ships, Vipers and Adders," Sheba said. "You will obey the orders given to you by your lawful superiors, or I will have you charged." She sounded hard. Sincere.

"Corpsefly, I'm showing you on course for Galactica," one of the Boomer's said. "Translation point is the other way."

There was a faint sound of discussion over the speakers, as if she was speaking to her flight crew with the mic covered. "My sensor and communications suites are better than Galactica's. They'll need help establishing the correct coordinates for main battery fire."

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Omega looked up at Colonel Tigh. The man wore a faint smile as he pressed the transmit button.

"We have a plan for the incoming wraiths to whittle them down to an acceptable level," he said. "I don't want any of you participating in some ill considered... operation. Galactica will aid Elysium. You should protect our people on the other side of the void." He gave Omega a curious gaze. "You should... survive."

"Sir, I think they've made their decision," someone said. "Green and Griffin Squadrons are forming high on our rear. They're not headed for the void."

"Well, I guess that settles that," Tigh's little smile was tight and mixed with regret. "Make notations of all their names in the logs and begin downloading to the omega drones immediately. Launch the first drone towards the void in three centons, then every half centar afterwards until... until victory."

"Yes, sir." Omega checked the time. "Five centons until interception, sir."

"What condition are our capitol missiles?" Tigh asked.

"We have six capitol missiles left since the battle that Commander Cain..."

"I'm aware how many we have, Omega," Tigh broke in. "What's their condition?"

"All tubes are intact. Missiles are ready now. Fuel was loaded before we passed through the void," the man replied. "Diagnostics show green on all birds. Missile control's only concern is how the sensor packages will perform in this environment."

"Program them for command detonation," Tigh replied. "I want their course to be as follows..."

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"Griffon and Green Squadrons will form on me," Sheba said. "We're going to shoot a parabola, hook around and hit the wraiths from the top and rear. With a little luck, we'll deform their formation and get some to come after us. I'm not worried about our ability to deal with those. Between our standoff missiles and the amount of fire an Adder can kick out, We'll winnow them down before they get to Galactica. If they all decide to play, computer estimates we can take out about three hundred of them before we're no longer combat capable. "

"Sorry to interrupt, Major," Starbuck began.

"Then don't do it," the woman bit back. "Galactica is headed toward the enemy at best speed. Colonel Tigh's plan is to get to pulsar range and kill Bonehawk's fighters by killing the hulk itself. The problem is that the fighters will get here first."

"Why doesn't Elysium kill it? I thought she was supposed to be the biggest, baddest daggit on the block," someone demanded.

"Because a hulk named Acheri translated into her starboard flight deck," Sheba answered. "Elysium's trying to maneuver, Acheri is counter-maneuvering. Too much stress will rip the bay apart and possibly allow a dreadhulk to push into her main hull. The Admiral was already fighting off the fighters of three of the moggers, he's been boarded and internal defenses are failing. If he could bring his spinal mounts to bear on Bonehawk, he would." The woman took a breath.

"Blue Squadron should retreat through the wormhole to guard the refugees," she said after a moment. "You're not fast enough to keep up and if you try to hang in the fight using your turbos, you'll exhaust your fuel too fast. You can't guard Galactica effectively against what's coming. You can do your refugees more good than you can us."

"Look Major, we're staying," Boomer said. "You can't force us to leave and you're wasting time better spent getting to your RP.

"Yeah," Starbuck replied. "Well, it was good seeing you again, kid, but you'd better get moving."

"This isn't Cimtar," Zak said. "It's not the sky over Caprica either. We're here and we're together. We're going to pull this off. The gods love ships named Galactica."

Then he was gone.

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"That's much better," Tigh said as he flexed his fingers. He nodded to Cassiopeia before returning his attention to the bridge.

She patted his arm before moving down the steps to the main level. Athena was down there at her station. Seeing the willowy dark warrior was hard, she was like her father, strong-willed, dedicated. She wouldn't let herself cave now the there was an emergency on. The blonde stepped over to her station and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"There's a very good chance the Commander will recover," the blonde began.

Athena stiffened for an instant under the other woman's hand. She took a deep breath and turned, revealing tear washed cheeks.

"You're lying," the words were harsh at first. Then she offered a sad, wet little smile that was almost painful to see. "I never thought I'd be so grateful for a head wound. At least he won't be awake when the enemy gets here. Thanks for everything, Cassiopeia. You're a good person and a good friend."

The Commander's daughter turned back to her console, took a deep breath and started directing damage control crews. She didn't flip some magical internal switch that would pull the hurt from her voice, she just didn't surrender to it. Cassiopeia nodded and walked away.

"Colonel Tigh, gunners report main batteries are functional to ninety-two percent. Main heat sinks are at seventy percent." Omega turned. "We haven't been able to do the maintenance they require..."

"And we haven't needed them until now," Tigh sighed unhappily. "How many shots will we get until they cease firing?"

Omega relayed the question and answer. "Best guess is six to ten shots before they start sustaining damage."

"Colonel, I'm getting a report on the incoming force from Major Sheba," Rigel announced. "Almost all of the incoming vessels are civilian, most are personal craft the size of shuttles or smaller, though three are approximately two hundred lexons in displacement."

"See if the Major can tell us where in the formation they're located."

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"Two centons until contact," Boomer announced. "Get ready."

"One centon to capitol missile launch," Rigel announced. "All Vipers clear launch zone. I say again, once centon to capitol missile launch. All Vipers clear launch zone."

"You heard the order, people," Lieutenant Boomer ordered. "Everybody burn for the ecliptic. I want at least five thousand metrons between our Vipers and Galactica. Starbuck, take the port side, we'll take starboard."

He hit the turbo button and felt the short nausea of his compensators trying to catch up with the load. It was almost no time at all before he was minimum safe distance away. He checked the instruments to verify the positions of his wingmen. Everything looked the way it should.

Battle chatter started spilling through their helmets. Green and Griffon Squadrons had engaged. The Pilots of Blue may not have understood what KKMs were, but from what they could gather over the net, they were dangerous. From the tones of far away voices, the ambush was more like target practice.

"Enemy flight is breaking formation," a calm, familiar voice informed them. "Blue Squadron, do not engage until ordered."

"Thirty centons to launch," Rigel continued. "Vipers are also warned to remain clear of the bow. We will be firing main battery pulsars within five centons."

"I guess they're serious," Starbuck said.

"Looks like it," Boomer returned.

Time ticked by and then they heard her voice. "Launch, launch, launch," Rigel announced. "We are launching capitol missiles. Vipers do not move to intercept incoming enemy."

Six stubby shapes rose from Galactica's hull, slowly at first, but with gathering speed. They lifted majestically on blue/white flames, spinning slowly, turning towards an invisibly distant target.

"Vipers be aware, there will be very bright detonations in ten microns. Institute cyclonic protocols."

"What?" Starbuck's voice was loud through the helmet speakers. "Cyclonic..?"

""You heard the word," Boomer chopped the other man's maundering off. He started flipping switches on his consoles. "Cyclonic protocols. All sensors and communications off, rotate Vipers one-hundred-eighty degrees. Do it now."

"Detonation in five microns. Three. Two. One."

Boomer looking at the rear of his wingman's Viper when the first flash reached them. The skin of the fighter seemed to glow brilliantly, brighter even than the triple fires of its engines. The light barely got a chance to dim before the next burst bloomed. Then the next and the next. The Flight Lieutenant took a chance ten microns after the last flash.

"This is Blue Commander," he announced. "Galactica, are you receiving me?"

"Affirmative, Blue Commander," Tigh's voice came back. "Bandits are much reduced, but you've still got incoming. One centon to contact, approximately one-hundred-fifty bandits."

"Roger, Galactica." He hit turbos to get his flight's attention. "We'll be intercepting in thirty microns and pulling them back to supporting fire."

"Negative Blue Commander," Tigh returned. "We're expecting ramming attacks. "You've got to keep them off of us for about two centons."

"Affirmative, control."

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Targeting scanners showed a chaos of inbound enemy ships. There were no formations, just clumps of two to five. Warbook showed nothing useful, just as sampling of 'possibly xxx class ship'. No life signs. Starbuck looked up and saw a thin cloud of specks headed his way. Here and there tiny green twinkles began to sparkle.

"Incoming fire," he announced. "Light them up." He pressed his own little red button.

Twenty-odd Vipers rushed forward unbelievably fast. Distant wraiths went from being indefinable sparks in the dark to dots to misshapen things trying to kill them and, in one or two cases, succeeding. The enemy flew ambulatory wreckage, bits open to space, weapons installed clumsily. The Vipers knifed through them in a blur, blasting holes, leaving dissipating wreckage behind.

"Welcome to the party, Blue Squadron," Major Sheba's voice was clear under the green stars. "Don't stay to mix it up, you've clipped thirty of them and only lost two, there are still almost a hundred of them closing on Galactica. You've got to intercept."

"You heard the lady," Starbuck rolled his fighter over. He burped turbos and caught up, lighting up the night with burning orange.

A few of the wrecks were slowing and slewing, trying to sweep back and kill fighters. Blue Squadron wasn't having any of it. The dead were clumsy, stupid, incapable of flying as a team. The men and women from Galactica had survived for two years against a force that was nothing but discipline and unity. The dead had numbers, but that was all. The machines had had numbers too. Blue Squadron had turned them into dust. If anything, this was easier.

"They're getting through," a voice announced. "Galactica's point defense guns are lighting up."

"Right, let's get in there," Boomer said.

The fight got closer to the big ship, deforming, shaping itself like a spear. Vipers killed everything they could, but each ship destroyed was blasted closer and closer to the Galactica. Boomer was still high and far out on the starboard side of the big ship when he saw one thing that filled him with joy and another that filled him with despair.

He rolled in and blasted two wraiths that had set themselves up very closely together. One volley wiped both ships out. As the wreckage cleared he caught a third coming in high and fast. It was too high for him to bear on. The wraith was coming in hot and he was going to die. Then it exploded. One of the big Adders wallowed through the expanding gas cloud and was gone. The big man's eyes tracked the adder for a second, that's when he saw the wraith screaming for the front of the landing bay.

"Galactica, wraith inbound..."

He saw three streamers lick out to try and hit it, but the lights danced around, coming close but never touching. The wraith, a little vessel that might have once been a close orbit shuttle, hit the leading edge of the bay and exploded. The opening vomited fire as the atmosphere inside lit and hurled it out into the dark.

It wasn't the only one.

"Thirty microns to main battery fire. Clear the bow," Tigh announced. "Repeat, thirty microns to main battery fire."

The wraiths were closing in. There were far fewer now, but still enough to damage the big ship. What was left of all three squadrons wove a net of protection around the battlestar. Orange and violet fires lit the night and each time the flame touched, a wraith was destroyed.

"Ten microns to firing," Tigh announced.

Three wraiths dropped low, below the ecliptic on the big ship, all speeding up and moving with purpose. Their bilious bolts spattered harmlessly for the most part, but one green ribbon licked out and across one of the defense turrets. It burst into emerald flame and exploded.

"Skipper, I got three bandits in the slot, headed right for the spinal mount. They're going for a ram." Wing Sergeant Jolly's voice was tight, but controlled. "Intercepting now."

"Five microns to firing," Tigh announced dispassionately.

The trailing wraith exploded, letting the grey, battered Viper get a better angle on their leader.

"Four."

It took an instant for the battle computer to lock on.

"Three."

"It's going to be close, boss," Jolly announced as he hit the firing stud. The lead wraith blew apart an instant from impact."

"Two."

"Got him."

Jolly's last blast was a wild thing, whipping orange around beneath the big ship. He clipped it twice. The first blow was light, ineffectual. It sublimed a minor part of the fleeting ship's superstructure. The second was good and solid, if not on center. It hit a thrust unit, making the dead bird slew and start to tumble off course.

"One."

"Yeah!" Jolly shouted.

The universe turned a glorious white.