Here it is, brand new chapter. Thanks for all those nice reviews! Special thanks to the one who pointed out that a trillion is not a billion. No clue how that mix up could happen. Granted, I've never been really good with mathematics, but I know that much. Hope you like!
Chapter 7: Hide and Seek
If Dr. Daniel Jackson had ever wondered how his shirts felt while being neatly folded at the dry cleaner, he'd knew it by the time he became aware of his own body again. Once Major O'Neill had started this ominous FTL drive, strange things had happened to his body and to the things around him. It seemed and felt like everything in his horizon was folded together like a big road map. Daniel couldn't really explain how he'd come to this comparison. He only knew, that he'd seen himself as a giant origami figure that was first folded and then unfolded again. For a split second, it had felt like he existed as a flat version of himself. If the trip through the Stargate could be described like being trapped in a washing machine, then one could compare the travel via FTL drive with being stuck in a rotary iron.
By the time the terrible feeling of tightness finally left his body, he found himself in the interior of the Raptor. Sam and the Major were also there. Honestly appearing as if they, too, hadn't been folded into handy booklets right in front of him. But unlike his last trip trough the Stargate, his body didn't need time to recuperate. Daniel immediately knew, what he'd experienced those last hours.
The malfunction of the Stargate. The museum. Agent Forster laughing at them when they'd mentioned Earth. A Jack O'Neill double in another universe. And the apparent complete destruction of the civilization, Sam and he had stranded in by mistake. The possibly destroyed, or at least badly damaged, Stargate. No way back.
Even as he was still processing the impressions of this day, he was forced to frantically hold onto the console in front of him with both hands. The Raptor accelerated rapidly, drifting to the side and shaking its passengers. Before his eyes, everything began to spin and he tried to suppress his nausea. Not matter how hopeless their situation may be, but he would surely not embarrass himself and vomit into Major O'Neill's Raptor. He could very well visualize what would happen if he'd ever barfed into Jack's beloved jeep. And this O'Neill was much younger, he would probably chase him till kingdom come.
But controlling his gastrointestinal system wasn't an easy job, the vibrations of the ship hurting in his bowels. They were hurled in all directions, like a roller coaster ride, and he held onto his chair with difficulty. Good thing he had the seat belt.
The reason for the shaking revealed itself as Daniel looked out of the cockpit window. The Major had flown them directly into a battlefield. All around them, space detonated with explosions of all sizes and colors. Like a massive fireworks display on new years eve. In the middle of this firestorm, an uncountable amount of small Cylon ships whizzed past them. They were chased from the arrow-like ships of the colonial fleet. The pilots of both fleets fought relentlessly against each other. Missiles and gunfire hissing in all directions, digging deep into the outer skin wherever they hit an aircraft.
The battlefield presented itself so chaotic and wild, that it was impossible to say who had the upper hand. And their battered, unarmed and outdated Raptor right in the middle of it all. But at least it seemed that the Major was an excellent pilot. That they hadn't been shot down already or accidently hit by a stray missile, was entirely O'Neill's credit. His fast reactions and good instinct was the only thing that kept them flying for now. Nevertheless, the impacts were getting closer. The Raptor revealed disadvantages concerning speed and armament, compared to the other ships. The Major couldn't compensate this for much longer.
"They're shooting at us." Daniel heard himself say, and promptly received a gruff answer for that rather simple observation.
"Ya think?!" grumbled O'Neill and darted his fingers across the control console. The Raptor tipped to the right not a second too soon. An oval missile exploded where the rear had been just a second ago. But the danger was not averted. Another rocket hissed past them, then managed to catch itself. With a sharp curve, it changed its course, heading straight for them as target. The DRADIS started to howl and a crosshair flashed frantically, with the green symbol representing their Raptor right in the bullseye.
"Uh, I think we're getting a problem back here." Remarked Daniel and congratulated himself for the fact that his voice didn't sound like the one of a little, scared to death, boy. O'Neill signaled that he had understood him with nothing but a grunt. Oh yes, I missed that – thought Daniel. The high art of O'Neillian monosyllabic communication seemed to be a character trait of this doppelganger, too.
Sam wasn't bothered by this. Instead, she was already falling into her professional mode.
"What can I do?"
Jack gave her a quick, assessing look. There was no time for a more efficient examination, because he had to steer their Raptor into the next evasive maneuver. Those missiles were damn fast.
"See that console on your right. Touch the screen and scroll down to the drones."
Sam sprang into action immediately and without further questions. Interesting, how old routines seemed to function universally, mused Daniel.
"Okay, found it. What now?"
"There should be two different sketches. Tap the smaller one and choose 'prepare launch' in the menu."
Once Carter had done this, the display changed. Instead of the submenu and an inventory list, the image of the DRADIS was mirrored and the console asked her to enter the target coordinates. At the same time, the crosshair flashed hectically as the indicated distance between missile and Raptor decreased steadily.
Intuitively, Sam tapped on the menacing red dot approaching their aircraft. A small window opened and the display transmitted the recordings of an outboard camera. A larger version of the drone she'd chosen in the menu dropped from its holder under the left wing and gained speed. At the same time, O'Neill pulled hard on the stick and the Raptor fell into a rapid nosedive. The outer shell of the ship vibrated as their drone crossed the missile's path, exploding in a deep red color.
The situation momentarily under control again, the DRADIS calmed down somewhat and the crosshairs changed color from red to a less dangerous, but still not harmless, orange. The Major geared down and brought the Raptor back onto a steady course.
O'Neill sighed with relief and Sam uttered a honestly impressed 'Wow', when suddenly a huge ship loomed in front of them.
"There you are." Jack greeted the spaceship with something akin to affection in his voice.
This ship had huge dimensions and looked like a oversized space woodlouse. Not very pretty, but very impressive.
"What's that?" Sam breathed and noticed a touch of pride in the major's answer.
"That's the Galactica. The best the fleet has to offer."
And literally the only thing the fleet has to offer, he thought as images of burning wrecks pushed themselves to the fore. The entire fleet was wiped out. Every ship destroyed, all but the Galactica. But as the battle developed before his eyes, the old lady wouldn't survive for much longer.
"Why's the crew not firing back?" asked the blonde woman next to him. Galactica's passivity had not escaped her eyes.
"No ammunition."
"What? Why?"
"Disarmament. Galactica was supposed to be a museum ship from now on."
"A museum ship?!" remarked Jackson aghast , but O'Neill didn't want to expose the old lady to any kind of mockery.
"You say that as if that was a bad thing."
Jackson gestured wildly with his hands.
"It is, if you are attacked by a fleet of rampaging cypresses."
"Cylons." Corrected the major patiently.
"Whatever." Marginalized Daniel and didn't notice, how impatient he sounded. Who cared about how they were called? It was important that they could avoid being pulverized somehow.
"What are we going to do now?" Sam interrupted in a neutral tone, effectively ending the quarrel between the two men.
O'Neill directed their course towards the Galactica before he answered.
"We're landing on the left flight pod. Don't worry," he added when he saw Daniel's doughty complexion. "the Vipers will cover our back."
"Vipers?" inquired Carter and tried to distinguish fried and foe in the tangle of ships hunting each other in wild dogfights. Jack pointed to one of the arrow-like aircrafts. "Those."
Sam watched the fight for a moment, then she understood. "They're protecting the Galactica."
"Yes, until she's ready to escape. I plan to be onboard when that happens."
"No objection." Sam agreed, studying the Vipers in the battle.
How was it possible that those Vipers weren't affected by the failure of the entire systems? Without really being familiar with the technology, she would spontaneously suggest that this aircrafts probably didn't have the skill of networking with each other and thus, weren't affected by the virus. But without casting a glance into the systems, it was just idle speculation.
O'Neill used the short moments of relative calm amid the violent space battle to contact his colleagues onboard the Galactica. Although the huge Battlestar hovered entirely harmless and defenseless in space, he was in a hurry to land. Part of his concern was for his passengers and their safety. But he also worried about his pilots. As far as he could see, they fought selflessly and with everything they had, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. Plus, they were using the Vipers destined for the museum exhibition. Several months ago, the entire fleet substituted the old Vipers with the modern and networking succeeding model. Even the Galactica, despite approaching decommission, had received 80 copies of the shiny new jets. But he couldn't detect any of those in the battle in front of him. Instead, he counted at least 40 outdated Vipers. At least, they had still stored some remaining ammunition for the old one's and his pilots would certainly make the best out of it.
But that didn't release him from his duty. He was their CAG and he should be fighting at their side, should be leading them instead of sitting uselessly in a Raptor.
Where the rest of his 80-men and women squadron was, he could only guess. He knew that some of them had been summoned to escort the political elite to the ceremony and back to Caprica . If he was not mistaken, their planned route would have lead them directly towards the Cylon fleet. They were all dead, most likely. And the rest? When the blond woman next to him was right with her guess, then he had to get used to the idea that every one of his pilots sitting in a modern Viper had lost his or her life today.
He shook his head to clear his mind from the gloomy thoughts. If he wanted to get his passengers safely onboard Galactica, he had to concentrate now. The sooner he succeeded in landing the Raptor, the sooner he could hop into his own Viper and support his pilots. He knew every single one and maintained a close camaraderie with some of them. As far as he was concerned, he wouldn't loose anyone else today.
"Galactica, this is Raptor 13-2. We're coming in now."
Almost immediately, he received an answer to his request. The other voice on the line belonged to Captain Kelly, Galactica's LSO. He sounded stressed and rushed. No wonder, after all, he knew that the had to bring in about 40 Vipers almost simultaneously.
"Raptor One Three Two, you are cleared for approach. Left pod is free. Speed is One Seven Five. Hands-on approach, call the ball."
Jack grabbed the stick hard with his right hand and throttled the speed with his left. They were still a fair way off, but the ball was clearly visible.
"Copy, I see the ball."
O'Neill let the Raptor drop and they wormed their way through the middle of fighting Cylon ships and Vipers. Although Jack was itching to finally get into the battle, he was glad that the screw heads didn't seem to be overly interested in a stray Raptor. The missile had already been a close call and he was pretty sure that they wouldn't be so lucky a second time.
The flight pod was coming closer, like a giant maw. He risked a glance at his prisoners…or was it passengers? Admittedly, the two had acquitted themselves well. They were composed, calm and did exactly what he told them. That was a big reason why he'd been able to keep them alive. They'd made it this far, because they let him do his job.
Suddenly, his hand reacted before his mind processed the irritant. A Cylon ship appeared in his field of vision and fired a salve of bullets at them. He immediately broke off the attempted landing and steered the Raptor into a daring dive to evade the shots. Their hunter continued chasing them and fired a second time. Jack pulled the control stick to the left and accelerated, but they were too slow. The third salve hit the Raptor's side and some of the bullets punched through the outer skin, leaving walnut-sized holes.
The pressure loss made itself known instantly. The warning klaxons howled and the Raptor started automatically to disable not needed systems to transfer all energy in maintaining the artificial pressure. Jack heard a hissing sound and knew that there had to be a leak somewhere in the heck and that it could proof to be fatal for them, if they couldn't seal it soon. But he was the only pilot onboard and couldn't leave the control. With the pressure loss and the disabled systems, it was hard to keep up a halfway steady course. If they slipped into a tailspin for just the blink of an eye, he may not be able to get the aircraft under control again.
Whether he liked it or not, he had to rely on his passengers. He had not yet decided if he could trust them. But he was sure, terrorists or not, that they didn't want to die. Just as he wanted to tell the blond woman how she could seal the leak, the man named Daniel Jackson groaned loudly. He had unbuckled himself and was now crouching down at the DRADIS console, pressing both hands on his right upper leg. Blood was pooling on the floor, proofing that he had been hit by one of the ricochets.
"Godsdammit!" Jack spit. Now there were two leaks to seal.
"Daniel!" cried the woman beside him. She immediately jumped out of her seat, in a rush to help her friend.
"Hey, wait!" the major held her back. He could understand her need to help the wounded man, but they had different priorities. The Raptor was loosing speed and height rapidly. If they failed to seal the leak within the next moments, a gunshot wound would be their smallest concern.
She turned to him, but her eyes stayed with Jackson.
"We have to take care of the leak first." Explained Jack empathically, hoping that she would be reasonable. Fortunately for them, she managed to tear her eyes from her injured friend.
"What do you need me to do?"
Major O'Neill sighed with relief. It was truly a blessing that she remained so calm and collected. The last thing they needed was panic. He nodded towards a large round metal that looked like a curling stone.
"Take the sealing and press it over the leak. If you feel a tug, it's sealed. Then you can help your fried. There's a first aid kid under the DRADIS console."
She nodded firmly and picket up the seal.
While she was looking for the leak, mainly using the hissing to orientate, O'Neill focused on keeping the Raptor stable. With horror he realized, that they had a Cylon ship hot on heels. The toaster had tasted blood and wanted to slay his prey. Jack had no choice but to steer their aircraft into a risky zigzag course to ensure that the enemy weapon systems couldn't get a clear shot at them.
In the back of the heck, Sam had a hard time staying on her feet. The Raptor was swaying from side to side, making it almost impossible for her to keep her balance. The outer walls vibrated dangerously, sounding like they could burst at any moment. When the Major abruptly steered the ship to the left, she lost her footing and slammed down hard on her knees. Carter grunted as she picket herself up again. Moreover, she found it unbelievably hard to ignore Daniel's strongly bleeding leg. Everything in her urged her to help him. But her mind knew, if she couldn't seal the leak and stop the pressure loss quickly, they would all die.
So she gripped the sealing and dragged herself on. She finally discovered the leak and crawled on all fours towards it. When she was almost close enough to slide the sealing over the leak, the Raptor fell into a nosedive again and she felt her body slipping away. But Daniel, despite his obvious pain, stayed on alert. He had one arm slung around the chair and the other one shot out and grabbed Sam by the shoulder. While he steadied and helped her to reach the leak, the blood could flow freely from the wound. He was getting dizzy and tired.
Finally, Sam succeeded in pushing the seal over the leak. Immediately, the menacing pressure loss stopped and the Raptor gained noticeably altitude.
"Yes! Good job!" she heard Major O'Neill praising her, but allowed herself just a second of quiet triumph. Then, as quickly as possible, she crawled to Daniel and ripped the orange first aid kid from the wall.
Inside, she found stuff that she recognized, but also things whose use didn't disclose itself to her. Sam tore the material of Daniel's pant leg with bare hands and pressed a thick stack of bandages on the wound. She put Daniels hands on top of the bandages.
"Keep up the pressure." She instructed and patted his cheek, because Daniel couldn't seem to focus on her. Although he nodded, his movements were slower than usual. The effects of the blood loss and the pain was affecting his capacity of reaction .
"I have to stop the bleeding." She cried in despair and emptied the first aid kid, because she couldn't find anything to help her close the wound. She wished Janet was here, she would know what do to.
Without taking his eyes from the displays, O'Neill came to her aid.
"There should be a green sachet. Sprinkle the powder into the wound, all of it. And don't cover it, it needs oxygen."
Yes! Yes, that sounded plausible. Something like wound powder, maybe?
Sam followed his instructions. She yanked the green plastic sachet open and let the whole content trickle into Daniel's wound. Trusting the major's words blindly, even though she didn't know him. Deeply worried, she registered that her friend promptly started to groan in pain as the powder touched his bleeding skin. He was groping for the wound and she had to hold him back, or else he would scrape at the wound with his bare hands. His struggle lasted only a few seconds. Then his pupils turned inwards, the head tipping to the side. With trembling fingers, she felt for a pulse.
The panic in her chest dissipated some when she discovered a faint, but steady heartbeat. The powder must have triggered a hellish pain, but it seemed to work. White steam and an acrid odor was rising from the wound. And there was a strange sound, like bacon that was fried in a pan with too much oil. Slowly, the bleeding subsided and then stopped completely. Carefully dabbing off the remaining blood, Sam saw that the raw skin of the wound edge looked as if it had been cauterized. Next she checked the back of his thigh for an exit wound and felt hope rising in her, when she found a small hole. As far as she could tell, it wasn't a life-threatening wound, now that it had stopped bleeding and that there was no danger of the bullet wandering through his muscular tissue. Carter grabbed the unconscious archeologist at the shoulders, guiding him into a stable side position. Because she couldn't do more for Daniel at the moment, she resumed her seat next to the Major.
The Raptor was steerable again, but that didn't mean that they were out of trouble. Small beads of sweat glistened on the pilot's forehead, rolling into his eyes because he didn't dare to take his hands off the control console. They had destroyed one missile, but there were many more of those. Cylon ships chased them trough the battlefield, firing salves that zinged all around them.
"Daniel needs a doctor."
O'Neill rubbed his forehead against his right shoulder to get rid of the burning sweat. He had to apply so much force to keep the Raptor on track, that bluish veins stood out on his hands and arms.
"What we need it some back-up, otherwise, there's no doc in the 12 Worlds that could patch us up again." He replied casually and steered the Raptor hard starboard, dodging a missile that collided at a wrack before them. Instinctively, Sam ducked her head as their aircraft dived trough the debris of the destroyed ship.
"This is Raptor 13-2. I've got a bandit hot on heels. Could need a bit of help here."
The call for back up didn't remain unanswered for long and when a female voice responded, Sam observed with surprise that O'Neill rolled his eyes. Maybe, because the female pilot consequently ignored the formal communication phrases. In any case, she sounded almost overbearing.
"Hey, Boss. Long time, no see. I was beginning to think you'd chicken out. How's that pillbox flying?"
Above his head, a little red light flashed up and O'Neill tapped it annoyed. When it resumed blinking, he slammed his fist against it and grunted in satisfaction, when the light extinguished.
"Starbuck, shut the hell up and shoot those damned Toasters already."
"Wilco. Let's play hide and seek."
The Major mumbled something and slowed the Raptor. Immediately, the Cylon pilot hunting them was coming closer again. The DRADIS howling and announcing a hostile target acquisition.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked, alarmed by his behavior. Seconds ago, they'd just barely escaped a missile and now he was slowing down voluntarily?
"I want him to come really close. He'll get the surprise of his life." Explained O'Neill cryptically and gave her a daredevil grin, while she still didn't seem to be okay with his tactic. Carter kept staring at him, maybe hoping that she could read in his face what he was up to.
"Look forward." He told her, still grinning.
She followed his advice and what she saw, raised her hackles. One of the Vipers had emerged into her field of vision, flying with a breathtakingly speed towards them, on a direct collision course.
"Turn away!" Sam cried and felt panic rising, when the Major just winked at her. Was there something like anticipation in his eyes?
"Got him." The voice of the female pilot floated trough the radio. She too, sounded too cool for what was going on. "You better get ready Boss, in 10…9…8…"
Sam held her breath and gripped the armrest of her seat, despite knowing that it would do her no good in a collision. Meanwhile, the countdown was running down mercilessly while the Viper came steadily closer. She could even see the pilot's golden helmet.
"5…4…3…2….now!"
What happened after the countdown, took place in a split second. Major O'Neill pushed the control stick down, surprising not just the woman sitting next to him, but also the enemy pilot. The Raptor sagged until it was almost in a freefall, giving the Cylon no chance to react in time. Unforeseen for the hostile pilot, the Viper took over the Raptor's place. Suddenly, the Cylon was no longer a hunter shooting at a wounded bird, but found himself in the role of the hunted one. He tried to doge the approaching Viper, but the female pilot called Starbuck wasted not even a second. Two missiles detached from under the wings and hit the Cylon ship directly in his caricatured face. The explosions ripped the ship literally in two parts.
"Yihaaaaaa! Take that you frakking toaster! Starbuck strikes again!" rejoiced the female pilot and Jack wiped a big hand over his face, breathing a little easier now.
"Nice job, Starbuck."
"Anytime, Boss. Now you better shoo into the bird farm. I see fuel coming out somewhere at your tail."
The Major nodded and chuckled in amusement. "See you there."
Under normal circumstances, he tried to be comradely towards his pilots, not pushy or ostensibly friendly. So, this was his was of telling his best pilot that she should watch out and return to Galactica in one piece. They'd lost enough good people for one day. Jack could hear her grin, when she answered him.
"Will do. But first, I gotta clean up some more."
O'Neill risked a look at the woman beside him. She looked as relieved as he felt.
"How about some firm ground under your feet?"
She managed a tired smile. "No objections."
This time, they managed to land undisturbed in Galactica's left flight pod. They came in a bit too fast, but that was no big problem. Admittedly, the landing was bumpy as the Raptor hit the deck and skidded across the floor, but at the end it came to a stop on some kind of hydraulic platform. The ground beneath them suddenly moved and the Raptor was lowered into a big hangar via a lifting platform attached under the flight pod.
O'Neill let his head fall back and exhaled. Then he examined Daniel, who was still lying unconsciously on the floor.
"Come on, let's help your friend."
Carter grabbed Daniels left arm, while O'Neill supported his other side. They almost lost balance, when the hoist came to a stop. At any other time, Sam would've probably marveled at the interior of this giant ship, but now she just wanted to ensure that Daniel finally received medial help.
They stepped onto the Raptors left wing, with the linguist hanging between them like a wet sack. Slowly, he came awake again, shaking his head and babbling confuse words.
"Where are we…I mean, what…Jack? Is that you?"
"Everything is okay, Daniel. We are safe. You're going to be okay again." Carter was quick to reassure her friend, before he could prattle away their secrets. He was completely dazed from the shock and the pain, not realizing where he was or remembering what had happened to them. Therefore, he was also surprised to see Jack O'Neill beside him, alive and kicking.
"Jack! It is you! It's sooooo good to see you."
Major O'Neill took it with humor and patted Daniel kindly on the shoulder.
"Sure buddy. Now, we're going to Doc Cottle and he'll give you a nice load of morpha. Best stuff in the universe."
He garnished his joke with a knowing smirk, revealing that he himself had some experience with this painkiller called morpha.
By the time the hatch opened fully, several men and women were already waiting for them. They wore orange utility jumpsuits and sooty spots on their faces. Technicians, probably.
"Hey guys, a little help." Asked the Major and immediately two crewmen seized Daniels arms and helped getting the dazed archaeologist onto the hangar.
The deck was huge. Sam was sure, that they could put a whole carrier in with still enough space to move around easily. I reminded her a little bit of the spaceships from Teal'c beloved Star Wars movies. The walls were colored gray. The floor displayed blue and yellow squares, probably marking where various ships and tools should be placed to maintain a certain order. A rough estimate of about 80 technicians dressed in similar orange jumpsuits scurried around busily, not showing worry or fear about the ongoing battle.
Sam stopped her visual exploration tour when she heard a shrill whistle behind her. With Daniel practically attached to her right side, she turned around and saw the Major with one of the technicians, stranding in front of the Raptor and examining the outer skin. What had the two men so bound to the sight, was a huge hole, looking almost like flesh wound. Dozens of cables were hanging out, without coating and spitting little electric flashes. A twinge of dizziness came over her, when she realized how damaged the Raptor really was. This could have gone very wrong very quickly. The technician had come to the same conclusion.
"Oh boy! The last time I've seen such a crater in a Raptor was when Flat Top confused forwards and backwards."
O'Neill just shrugged. "You know me Chief. If I do something, I do it right."
The Chief shook his head in disbelief and muttered something that sounded like 'damned jockeys'
He received a friendly pat on his back and an encouraging praise from the Major.
"If anyone can sort this out, it's you Chief."
"It wouldn't come to this, if you flyboys and girls would finally understand that these ships don't grow on trees!" scolded the older man, stroking almost lovingly over the Raptor's battered skeleton.
O'Neill cleared his throat, not really in the mood to bear the brunt of the Chief's foul temper.
"Yeeeeees, well. Gotta go, see you around Chief."
But the Chief was completely absorbed with the repairs, not noticing as O'Neill went back to his two new friends. Oh, wait a second! New friends? Where had that come from? Jack shook his head at his own stupidity. As far as he knew, they were terrorists and normally, he had anything but sympathy for those kind of assholes. So, where did those familiar feelings come from? Maybe because they had been forced to watch Caprica's destruction together? This sort of horrible experiences brought people together, no matter if they liked each other in the first place. It was just simple psychology, this strange familiarity towards the man and the woman. It would pass, he was sure of that. After all, he knew nothing of them. Not even the woman's name.
The took his place at Jackson's right shoulder again, and together the three of them hobbled towards the door and the fastest way to the infirmary. Jackson, who obviously still had no clue where he was, continued babbling to himself. His head rolled from right to left, as if a hinge in his neck war broken.
"Ja-ack! I'm so glad you're alive. You're my best friend!" Daniel exclaimed with the voice of a drunken man, trying to give O'Neill a big kiss on his cheek. But Carter responded quickly. She pulled his arm jerkily, causing his head to roll away from the pilot. Instead of O'Neill, it was Sam who received the wet peck. Daniel didn't seem to notice this mistake, he looked at her as if he saw her for the first time, a strange sentimental expression on his face.
"Aren't you happy as well, Sam? Jack lives! Not you two can finally…Ouch!"
Before Daniel could express his thought, Sam's elbow landed on his ribs and ended his uncontrolled speech just in time. Carter could feel O'Neill's watchful eyes on her neck, but she refused to give into the urge to look back. Instead, she tried her best not to turn red, which was not easy given the physical exertion of dragging Daniel along. After all, the archaeologist was not exactly a lightweight. Along with it, Galactica's left hangar was repeatedly shaken when the ship was hit by a missile or had to manage an evasive move.
But Carter was spared the humiliation of more embarrassing hints when a woman ran towards them. She was young and asian-looking. Her long, dark hair was tied in a messy ponytail and she wore the same flight suit than O'Neill.
"CAG!" she called when she reached them, appearing to be endlessly relived to see her superior. The Major slowed down and devoted all his attention to the sweating young woman.
"Boomer, you okay?"
"Yes! We just got away in time."
O'Neill's eyes narrowed. "Got away? From where?" As far as he remembered flight schedule, Boomer and Helo, her ECO*, hadn't been assigned a flight.
"We were sent to Caprica, to check out a strange signal. Something hit us in the orbit and we had to make an emergency landing. Gods! I think it was a nuclear bomb! There were so many people at once. They wanted to get away from the planet, but we couldn't take them all." Recounted the young woman and her voice became more and more hectic. It was clear, that she had no clue what was happening and that her overeager mind tried to fill out the gaps. O'Neill wanted to calm her, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Calm down, Boomer. Just keep breathing." He waited until she regained control over her lungs again. "Okay, that's it. Now tell me what happened. One thing at a time."
The woman named Boomer, that was probably not her real name but her call sign, nodded and closed her eyes.
"We were at the decommission ceremony when we received this strange signal. Lt. Gaeta thought that it was just white noise, but Colonel Tigh insisted to verify the matter. He sent us out and we backtracked the signal to Caprica's orbit. Then suddenly, the DRADIS announced Cylon contact."
She opened her eyes again, blinking rapidly and displaying small and confused pupils.
"That can't be true, right Sir? I mean, we haven't seen a Cylon in 40 years." She asked more to herself that her CAG. Sam wondered as well. For forty years, the Colonists hadn't heard or seen something from those Cylons. Yet, the young woman couldn't be more than 25 years old, which meant, that she'd never encountered one of their enemies herself. No wonder, that she was so freaked out.
O'Neill realized the same thing. It was true, with the exception of Commander Adama, Colonel Tigh and Doc Cottle, no crewman onboard Galactica had ever seen a Cylon. A real one, they'd seen plenty of them in books or documentaries. This lead down to the fact, that everything the crew knew was based on exercises alone. While those training was held under realistic conditions, it was a poor substitute for a real fight. Jack grimaced in frustration, no one of them was prepared for any of this.
"What happened next?" He pulled the female pilot in front of him out of her inner turmoil. As much as he could understand that Boomer wanted to do nothing more than hide from the truth, he needed her to stay focused. Her eyes wandered from left to right, as she tried to organize her memories.
"We were hit by something. I initiated an emergency landing. We weren't sure what hit us, so we repaired the Raptor and planned to report back to Colonel Tigh. Suddenly, there were so many people. They screamed about a Cylon attack, about nuclear bombs. They wanted us to take them with us. But we only had space for 10 people. There were so many of them left, children too, after we crammed 10 of them into the Raptor. But we couldn't possibly take more. Right, Sir?"
Her voice held insecurity, as she demanded confirmation from her CAG that she couldn't have done more. O'Neill nodded in agreement.
"Boomer, you did everything you could. You would've overloaded the Raptor otherwise."
But this fact seemed to be little consolation.
"There were so many of them left. We promised them to come back, but then…"
She gestured helplessly at the chaos around them and Jack understood. By the look of it, there was not a chance that she would get permission to fly back. That would be suicidal. Not to mention, that there was probably no one left to save. But he didn't need to say that aloud, Boomer knew already.
Still, he wanted to console her somehow, but then he noticed something else. His eyes looked over her head, searching for someone on the hangar but not finding that person. A bad boding raised in him.
"Boomer, where is Agathon?"
The young woman's guilty eyes were glued to the floor.
"Lt. Valerii, where is Lt. Agathon?"
Tears shone in her eyes as she answered.
"He insisted to say on Caprica. Gave is place to a civilian. He said it would be okay, that I could come back later and get him. Sir, we have to go back. I promised I'd return."
The remorse and shame about leaving her colleague behind was clear to see in her face. Carter instantly felt with her, because she knew that look, that kind of pain. Boomer was still so young, too young to shoulder so much guilt. Had she herself ever been that young? She no longer remembered. All she remembered was, that whenever an inexperienced Captain had expressed worry, a certain Colonel had found a way to make it easier for her. Now, as she watched Major O'Neill calming his young team member, it was as if history repeated itself.
"Listen Boomer, we'll get Helo back. I promise, we're not leaving him behind. But we can't go back now. I don't know when, but I swear we'll go back and keep searching until we find him."
Sam was fascinated by the determination in his eyes, even if they were not directed at her. He firmly believed what he said. Although he'd just witnessed how his Home World had been destroyed and contaminated. But Major Jack O'Neill would return and he would search for his pilot, even if there was nothing to find anymore.
"But first, we need to get into safety. We can't help him if we're getting ourselves killed. If Helo was here, he'd say the same thing. Okay? Do you understand, Lt. Valerii?"
Boomer swallowed hard, but nodded finally.
"Got it, Sir." She insured, professionalism returning to her with every passing second.
The Major rewarded her with a confident smile. Where he found that sureness, remained his secret.
"Good. Now we're taking Mr. Jackson to Doc Cottle. Then we need to talk to the Commander. He needs to know what's going on."
bit her lit an stared reluctantly at the aircrafts in the hangar. Not one of them was airworthy. Even though her sense for duty told her to go back into battle, there was nothing for her to work with. Finally, she nodded in agreement.
They'd just taken a few steps, when the next disaster announced itself. The loud sound of a klaxon immobilized all work in the hangar at once.
"Attention! This is the CIC. Prepare for nuclear impact at left flight pod! I repeat, prepare for nuclear impact at left flight pod! Evacuation protocol delta is active!" announced a voice through speakers.
For a split second, there was eerie silence. For some reason, O'Neill's and Carter's eyes met over Daniel's head and Sam understood, what he wanted to tell her. The left flight pod was exactly where they stood right now. The Major practically hauled his part of the archeologist's body at her. Then she felt his hands on her back, pushing her towards the exit.
"Run! Run! Run!"was all she heard before chaos broke loose.
*ECO=Electromagnetic Countermeasures Officer; similar to the role of an ECMO in US Naval aviation