BSG...no matter how many times I watch you, you'll always be an inspiration. A longer chapter than what I'm used to, but I do hope you enjoy it. Please review and you'll get a lot of love from me.
I do not own BattleStar Galactica.
"...Including the colonies of Caprica, Picon, Aeries and Tauron," Laura reported gravely, standing in front of the entirety of the passengers of the liner. Shock and horror reigned supreme on the vessel. The utter devastation was, to put plainly, incomprehensible. Nothing, not even in the first Cylon war, was anything of this magnitude. It was horrific, the knowledge that everything you had ever known was completely gone...forever.
The people were scared. They had no clue how to react to the news. Like a wave, they rose up, almost in one voice as they tried to clamour over one another to be heard.
One woman, a blonde, middle aged woman dressed in a grey suit, rocked in her chair. Her hands tore at her once perfectly styled hair as she muttered denials at the news. Others weren't so composed.
"Geminon? Is there anything about Geminon?"Came one man's panicked cry. Another woman kept screaming that she needed to get home. It was nothing but utter chaos.
Laura Roslin tried to calm everyone down. "Please," she tried once without any reaction. "Please. PLEASE!" It quietened down, however, tension was still evident in the small cabin. "I'm trying to contact the government right now and get more information for everyone. In the mean time, we should be prepared for an extended stay on this ship." She took in a deep breath and pushed her glasses a little further up her nose. "Okay. So," pointing to a man, she began her instructions. "You, you...and you, can you please make an inventory of the emergency supplies and rations."
"—Hey! Wait a minute!" the Public Relations Officer that was aboard Battlestar Galactica stood up in protest. "Who put you in charge?"
Sighing, Laura gave him her full attention. There really wasn't time to deal with the stupid questions, in her mind. However, people needed the reassurance, even if it was flimsy at best. "That's a good question. The answer is no one. But this is a government ship and I am the senior government official, so I guess that makes me in charge." Her eyes narrowed a little, noting that he could be trouble before moving back to her instructions. "You and you—go down into the cargo spaces and see about setting up living space so we can get out of this cabin. Everyone else, please sit tight and...Try to relax."
Those who she had pointed out, disappeared quickly to their tasks, grateful that they had something to do, rather than wait for news, like the rest of them. Despite the other's relief, Doral glared at the woman in charge. Ignoring him, Laura moved to sit next to her assistant, handing over a small piece of paper. "This is the passenger manifest," she began, quietly, however, she quickly noticed that his hands were trembling, while hers was steady and firm. "Are you alright?" Laura asked gently.
His baby face looked at her, seriously, even while he stuttered over his words. "Uh, yeah...I...my parents...uh...my parents moved to Picon three months ago," he started, taking in a shuddering breath. "...to be closer to my sisters—and their families—their grandkids..." Billy trailed off, not sure what else to say. Laura in turn, nodded. What else was there she could say? Billy, however, swallowed thickly, holding everything in tightly while he looked for something else to talk about. "You...uh...have family?"
"No," Laura said with a sad smile. "Just me."
With an almost sonic boom, Kara's viper shot out of the ship's tube and raced towards the fight. Everywhere around her were other vipers, scattered and confused. Frustrated, she zipped through the mess, pushing her plane as fast as it could go. They needed her help—and her crazy. Voodoo was the closest at getting a shot, but not quite there. Shooting past her, Kara engaged with the enemy.
Suddenly, the Cylon fighter turned back towards the Galactica, a sliding door opening to reveal five missiles with distinctive war heads. Galactica would see what was going on, Kara thought on faith. Flicking on her communications, she gave out an order, sharply. "This is Starbuck. Keep Him boxed in. I got a shot right up the gut!"
"Copy that. You've got the best angle," Speedster replied back through the wireless, the constant sounds of weapons firing beat a tattoo through the speaker. Suddenly the Cylon flipped again, its visor opening. A bright red light washed over Kara's Viper. Was this a new weapon that knocked out the other Battlestars? However, there was nothing happening, no loss of systems, no sudden explosions, just nothing.
"What the hell was that?" she breathed. A tone sounded throughout the cockpit. Weapons Lock. Squeezing the gun trigger, Kara let out a volley of bullets. Three missiles shot out of the Cylon Fighter, right before it exploded. Firing again, she tried to destroy all the missiles, exploding two. "Shit!" she cursed as the third raced past her. "Galactica! You've got an inbound nuke!"
Voodoo's Viper followed the missile. A spray of bullets fired out of her guns as she got closer to the missile. However, they missed, hitting the Galactica's hull. Tearing away, Voodoo pulled back to Kara's position. "Voodoo- I'm sorry, but I missed."
"All Vipers. BREAK—BREAK—BREAK!" Kara ordered, ignoring her protégé. All the Vipers turn and zoom back out towards black space as the Galactica twists and turns to avoid a direct hit. However, the manoeuvres aren't enough. The nuclear warhead exploded less than a mile away from Galactica's starboard bow. The resulting energy boom emitted a blinding white light.
Evelyn groaned in her cockpit, her Viper spinning wildly. She had been too close to the ship, and the explosion knocked her for six. Adrenaline had her heart pumping wildly. What had happened? Was the Galactica alright? All around her, instruments sparked and hissed. Her systems flickered in and out. Giving the screen a sharp tap, Evelyn watched impatiently as her mini DRADIS came back online.
It didn't take her long to right her plane and steer it back towards the Galactica.
The Battlestar spun slowly in space, as though no one was steering the vessel. It was clearly not under control. The Port Flight Pod was partially crumpled. Evelyn stared in shock at the sheer damage that was caused. How could one warhead destroy so much? Gasses vented, with fuel, air and other noxious fumes into space from various openings in the hull. Noticing a Viper doing a fly by, Evelyn tried to get her wireless to work again.
"Galactica—Starbuck," came the garbled transmission. It was hissy and filled with a lot of white noise. "Galactica—Starbuck. If you're reading me, the Forward Section of the Port Flight Pod has sustained heavy damage." Evelyn looked over her shoulder towards the other Vipers, noticing their regrouping as Starbuck circled the damaged Battlestar. Another section of the bulkhead collapsed, violently venting debris into the black. Swallowing, she turned her viper back towards the other planes, taking her place as they waited for word from the Galactica.
"Galactica," came Starbuck's voice again, this time a little clearer. "You're getting violent decompressions all along the Port Flight Pod. Do you read me? Galactica!"
"Baskania (evil eye)," Evelyn breathed, reaching towards her talismans and stroking the blue glass bead. In Saggitarion, she remembered as a child, if something bad happened right after a good thing, it was considered to be the act of an evil eye. The blue bead painted like an eye would often be sold as a talisman against it. With everything that had happened, Evelyn vowed that the little blue bead would never leave her again.
The Viper pilots watched together as the Galactica slowly began to right itself. Starbuck's voice repeated her message over and over. "Alright, boys and girls," Kara switched her attention back to the pilots. "Expect an extended stay out here until Galactica gets her bearings. Keep an eye out for more Cylon birds and let's protect our girl."
In groups of three, they split up, circling their home protectively. Three was considered lucky to Evelyn. However, she knew it could turn the other way. Frequently she could be heard whispering after bad events, 'may it not occur in three.' Burner, her wingman, used to say that it made him feel better when she did that, even if he didn't put stock in her mysticism. Gods, she missed him. He should have been with her, at her side, not dead in the vastness of space. She would give anything to have him back, up to and including her own life. A soul for a soul.
She flew low, near the damaged flight pods, Speedster and Groomy a few metres above her. It was horrific. Fires were still burning, gasses still leaking. Casualties would be catastrophic. Fires balls suddenly roared out in front of her.
"Whoa!" she cried, flipping her bird end from end before banking to the left. The two others followed her just as quickly. More flames and debris followed their path. Evelyn let out a cry as a frozen human body floated past her canopy.
Then it was quiet.
There was no more gas, no more flames. Battlestar Galactica had righted itself.
The light was golden, the grass a constant rolling green as the wind pushed it down gently. It would have been nice, if it weren't for the constant booming and the mushroom clouds blocking the sun. This was Caprica, ruined and taken over. It was Cylon territory now, not the colonies. Boomer's raptor glinted in what was left of the sun's light. Caprica City was just out of their vision, but they knew it was close.
They were on an abandoned emergency airstrip. There were no more planes or ships. Hopefully they had gotten to safety, but the most likely bet was they were destroyed by the Cylons long before they got out of the planet's atmosphere. Helo tightened the blood soaked bandage on his leg as he rested against the Raptor's hull. It was a shit of a situation, something he wasn't prepared for. Underneath the ship, his pilot worked hard, patching the fuel lines within the engine mounting. He just wanted to get off the gods forsaken planet and get back to Galactica.
Helo thought about the ship for a while, wondering if it survived the invasion. They had been pretty far out in space, a long ways away from any planet. Knowing the Old Man, he would have regrouped when they got their message and found a way to get munitions to rejoin the fight.
He thought of all his co-pilots, of Starbuck, and her little protégé, Voodoo. They were both a little crazy, but he trusted them in a dog fight. How was Voodoo handling the loss of her wingman, Burner? He knew that she relied on him to steady her, and to control her mystical superstitions in a social setting. What would she have said or done if she were here, instead of Boomer? Another boom echoed in the distance.
"That's six," He stated, knowing that Boomer would look at the newest cloud reaching towards the sky. "How are you coming on that fuel line?"
"Almost there," came the strained voice of his pilot. "We'll be airborne soon."
"Good. Gotta get back into the fight. Galactica will need us."
"Yeah," Boomer muttered, "back in the fight." He knew that she didn't think there was anything worth fighting for, that it would be an impossibility for a win after seeing all those Battlestars destroyed above the planet. Suddenly, in the distance, there was movement. Moving forward, Helo squinted, trying to see what it was. Eyes widening, he pulled out his side arm.
"Sharon. Get your side arm."
In the process of crawling out from underneath the vessel, she looked at him before spotting what he was seeing. She stood up quickly and pulled out her gun. A mob of people were racing across the distant hill, right for them. Fifty odd desperate people, some of them barely dressed. As they got closer, Helo could see some of them were injured.
Desperate people were dangerous.
Colonial Heavy 798 cruised through the vastness of space. It was drifting there, unsure where to go, with the war. Suddenly, a Cylon Raider jumped near the transport, firing a missile before jumping away. It rushed towards the ship, nothing there to stop it from destroying everyone inside.
Then there was a Viper, Lee's Viper, roaring in front of the missile, its engines blazing with heat and afterburners. It twisted and turned, enticing the missile to follow its trail, rather than going for its intended victim. The exhaust flame was almost right into the missile.
Lee looked over his shoulder, hoping that the manoeuvre would work and that the innocent people inside the transport vessel would survive. Checking his instruments, he judged the moment...
"Ok, Colonial 798, break on my mark...three...two...one...mark."
In simultaneous synchronisation, the transport and Viper turn in opposite directions. The missile wavered for a moment before following the smaller plane. Glancing back constantly, Lee kept watch on the missile as it tracked him.
"Thank you, Apollo. What happens now?" The Transport Pilot's voice was heavy with relief.
A humourless smirk graced upon the Captain's cheeks. "I have no idea," he replied. A beep sounded from his computer screen, the fuel gage inched closer into the red. In a snap decision, he flipped the bird, end from end, firing what little ammunition he had. Miss. Miss. Miss.
Then Boom! The missile exploded, right between the Viper and transport ship. The blast hits the Viper, the force sending the small bird tumbling. Lee groaned and grunted, trying to get the machine back into his control. Finally, he righted himself, igniting the engine. With a splutter and a low hum, the Viper died, the fuel gage hitting empty. Hitting the computer a few times, he cursed his luck. Flicking on the wireless, Lee sent out an emergency call.
"Krypter—krypter—krypter. His is Apollo calling to any Colonial vessel. I'm declaring an emergency. Out of fuel and need assistance."