An invincible force! Yes, she was! Ama could go anywhere in the galaxy with a light blink of her eyes, or do anything with a mere snap of her fingers, or even by just wishing it so. Her physical body had become lighter, more versatile, and she crossed realities as seamlessly as her father. Planets, solar systems, galaxies, whole entire universes! Realities she had never dreamed of! It was thrilling. Exhilarating. The universe was infinite and she could quite easily spend eternity discovering what truly was out there awaiting her inquisitive nature.
Anywhere . . .
Then it suddenly occurred to her where she wanted to go, more than anywhere else. It came to her like a message from Triquetra or from an old familiar friend, which made her pause to wonder . . . But still, she had to know. It consumed her.
"No!" Iblis suddenly protested, the word battering both her consciousness and the universe around her.
Fleeing his ire and admittedly curious as to its source, she soared away across the heavens, anxious to finally have her questions answered. She could feel the pull of her father, his insistent omnipresence, but she fought against it, pulling away from him at last. She would find the truth.
But would she recognize it when it slapped her in the face?
"No!" he repeated as she sped across space. "I forbid it, Ama!"
But he could forbid her nothing now.
xxxxx
With both lasers blazing, Luana cut a path through the Cylon Base Ship that would make Starbuck blanch and Apollo proud. She was raised a hunter in the hills of the Planet Empyrean, and hunting Cylons, while a little different from hunting game, wasn't much of a stretch for this abdicated Empyrean princess. The one major difference being that wild game didn't shoot back.
She darted through the hatchway, a little surprised at the four centurions standing outside the brig. Fortunately, they were otherwise engaged and turned the other way, paying rapt attention as the brig door slid open. Laser fire was coming from within, and Lu wasted no time in adding her weapons to the exchange. She barrelled towards the brig, dropping and rolling, and coming up shooting once again. Cylon after Cylon fell, never even getting a lock on her. She was the Wraith, infiltrating this Cylon ship without their knowledge, and destroying anything that came between her and her objective.
"Ensign Luana!" came a voice.
Lu stepped over the downed centurions, fanning her weapon around the perimeter before stepping into the brig. A warrior was down, and Ensign Acastus was leaning anxiously over her. The woman was gasping, writhing in pain, her arms wrapped around her stomach, blood on her uniform and hands.
"How is she?" Lu asked, not remembering the injured cadet's name. She pulled her pack off of her shoulders, grabbing her medical kit.
"Gut shot," Acastus replied, reaching for the field dressing Luana handed him with bloody hands. He pressed it in place, wincing as the cadet groaned aloud, trying to curl up in a ball of agony. "Can you give her something for the pain?"
"I'm on it," she replied, pulling out the hypospray and quickly dosing the woman. Lords, there was a lot of blood. "What's her name?"
"Xenia. She saved my astrum, pushed me out of the way . . ."
"Xenia, we're going to get you back to the Endeavour and let Cassiopeia look after that. You'll be good as new in a few days," Lu told her, watching her eyes dilate with the narcotic suddenly in her system. "Hang in there, Cadet."
Xenia's eyes fluttered, then opened wide as they locked onto the Empyrean woman. She snorted loudly. "Starbuck's frackin' wife! Don't it just figure. Goddamned family of heroes . . ." Then she coughed, looking up at Acastus. "You did good, Ensign. You should be proud . . ." Her eyes fluttered shut.
Lu raised her eyebrows, looking at Acastus. "What was that all about?"
"Don't rightly know, but I'm glad to see you!" he assured her, rising to his feet and crossing to the cold cells.
One by one, he opened them, releasing the other warriors. While a bit dazed and cold, they appeared to be unharmed, at least physically, as far as they could tell.
"Can you walk?" Acastus asked Trevanian.
"They don't need to," Lu replied, pulling the small but heavy Clavis out of her pack. "Gather round, gang. I have a one way ticket back to our base ship."
"What about our Hybrids?" Trevanian asked.
"Commander's orders were to send you all back with the Clavis. No exceptions," Lu replied, looking pointedly at the fallen cadet. She glanced at her chrono. "Besides, I think Zinnia needs a med tech sooner than later."
"Xenia," Acastus said.
"What about you, Ensign?" Lambda asked.
"Okay, one exception. Me." She met their indignant gazes. Seems they were practicing to be Apollo. "You should all be proud of what you've accomplished, and know for sure that Commander Dayton is, but now it's that magical time when you follow orders and get your astrums back home. Our commander is waiting patiently to blow this barge to Hades hole, and he'd preferably do that knowing you're all aboard the Endeavour. Any ship scanned leaving this bucket will be incinerated. I think we all know that."
"You checked your chrono," Teles noted, "how much time do we have?"
"Two centons until the Clavis kicks in," Lu replied, standing. "Get in a tight circle around Zin . . .Xenia."
"What about you, Lu?" Ligea asked her.
"I figure on five centons to get back to the landing bay and out of here. That's when the Endeavour will open fire, giving her all she's got. The Cylons can't detect the Wraith on full ECM. I'll be fine."
"Maybe so, but take six centons," Acastus told her. "If Coxcoxtli is locking on the Clavis, you don't need to be here to supervise."
"True enough. I'll fry the entry panel on my way out. But just in case . . ." Luana handed him a weapon.
"Good luck, Ensign. And thanks for the assist," Acastus replied as she stood to go. "May the Lords of Kobol keep you safe."
She raised her laser slightly and patted the solenite charges on her belt. "I have that covered." Then she turned to go.
xxxxx
"Where on Earth are they going?" Baker murmured quietly behind Apollo and Dietra as the Hybrid Raider gained altitude, racing over Upper New York Bay in pursuit of one of the Cylon fighters that had broken through the Earth task force.
Two distinct pathways of destruction had been etched into the city from the Cylon strafing runs as they deviated north and south. The Lightning fighter was dogging the Raider that was continuing its fiery trail of death towards Central Park in Manhattan. Baker couldn't help but share that pilot's urgency, knowing that besides a couple million people there was also a collection of some of the most historical and famous landmarks in the area including Carnegie Hall, the American Museum of Natural History, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Guggenheim Museum. However, the Cylons the Colonials were chasing had changed course, heading towards New York Harbour. It didn't make much sense . . . unless . . . oh, shit! . . . unless they were targeting the most significant iconic American landmark in existence. "C'mon, Apollo! Get 'em!"
"In Standard, Baker!" the Colonial Colonel returned over his shoulder. "What did you say?"
"They're after the Statue of Liberty!" Baker said, this time in Colonial Standard, not even realizing he'd lapsed into English in the heat of the moment, and that Apollo had heard only gibberish. "It's an omnipresent symbol of freedom for our people! I . . .I can't even begin to explain it! We can't let them get her!"
"We won't," Apollo replied, coaxing everything he could out of the Hybrid's engines.
Stunned fury consumed the Earth astronaut, and he sat there white-knuckled as the gap between Cylons and humans narrowed far too slowly. This attack on American soil would make the World Trade Centre fade into history as a relative bump in the road to maintaining freedom and liberty for all. In the minds of Americans, their country was the quintessential fortress, not to be impinged upon or—God forbid—invaded. There was an innate understanding that any such attempt would be avenged swiftly and forcefully, ceding no quarter.
Yeah, I'm sure the Cylons are just leaking lube over that, Baker-boy!
Baker clenched his teeth together, sitting on his hands, as he gruellingly waited while Libertas, the Roman Goddess of Freedom, grandly loomed ever larger on the horizon. He watched as Apollo actuated the attack computer, but the screen was delivering sludge, still subject to intermittent electromagnetic pulses from the Ravager.
"Manual sighting," Baker said, his voice clipped. The statue was definitely in range of the Raider now. There was no way those electronic garbage cans didn't see it.
"I know," Apollo replied tersely.
"This is why the Viper is a single-seated fighter," Dietra murmured. "Right?"
Apollo smiled slightly, not letting his concentration waver. A moment later he unleashed a stream of laser fire on the enemy. The Raider broke right, then dived, screaming towards the American landmark like a bat out of Hell, salvos streaking across the sky. Apollo followed her down, once again lining her up optically, and unleashing his own lasers.
"C'mon . . ." Baker whispered.
Suddenly, the Raider pulled up sharply, obtaining maximum G's that no human could match as she shot upward to the sun, putting distance between them. Apollo let out a guttural growl of displeasure, following at a less severe incline, while Baker snapped his head backwards towards Liberty Island and the great lady, herself.
"They're gaining altitude and running for space!"they heard over the comm line from one of the Lightning pilots.
It wasn't Cylon fighter tactics, it was an all-encompassing order to their forces.
"Triton Squadron, let's go finish them off!" Apollo ordered.
Baker turned his eyes front, only to abruptly see a burst of light impacting the Cylon. The Raider's left wing exploded. The alien machine flipped over and began to tumble toward the water, trailing fire.
"Good shot, Apollo!" shouted Baker.
"Wasn't me," replied the colonel. "It came from . . ." He paused as the remains of the Cylon broke apart. He shrugged then, listening in on the other channel. He shook his head in confusion, putting it on Unicom so Baker could hear it. When he did, the old astronaut began to laugh.
"Nice shooting!" He grinned, as he explained it to the Colonials.
Down in the harbour, the U.S.S. New York was in for a final celebration before her decommissioning. The San Antonio class ship had had a front row seat for all the recent mayhem. Unable and unwilling to just sit idly by, her skipper had opted to throw the ship into the fight. Radar and all "modern" defensive systems blinded by the Cylon EMPs, they had fallen back on more antiquated measures. When the Raider had flown overhead, she had fired a heat-seeking missile from the ship's defensive arsenal. Unaffected by the entire scanner blinding, the relatively primitive weapon screamed across the water to slam into the Raider. The Cylon, evading fire from Apollo's Hybrid, flew right into the oncoming ordnance.
Cheers went up from the New York's crew as flaming pieces of the alien fighter rained down across Staten Island, perhaps fittingly, some of it at the old Fresh Kills Landfill.
"Along with the rest of the garbage," muttered Baker. "New York, thanks for the assist," he said over the radio.
"Wouldn't have missed it," replied the voice from the old Navy ship.
Baker nodded to himself as he settled back in his seat, his final mental image of the Statue of Liberty burnt into his brain as they headed for orbit. Diagonally lengthwise, from right shoulder to hip, a scorch mark had been charred into the grand lady's copper robes. As they had for over two hundred years, her stern, silent features endured as they watched over the United States. Like freedom and liberty, she would be with them as long as there was an American—indeed a human—still standing.
xxxxx
Jess nodded at Carter on the flight deck of the Venture, and he gave her the thumbs up in return. They'd done what they'd set out to do. The Venture, Unity and Quest were all in low-Earth orbit over the western hemisphere acting as a communications conduit for the world defences while Cylon EMP pulses continued to intermittently hammer their remaining satellites and ground-based stations. No longer were the European or Asian Defence Commands in the dark as to what was going on in North America. Chiefs of Staffs the world over were in contact, coordinating defences as best they could, now with the approval and blessings of the United Nations Security Council. Meanwhile, their Air Forces seemed to be doing themselves proud by all reports, although the engagements hadn't been without their professional or civilian casualties. New York, Los Angeles and Chicago had all sustained moderate damage and significant deaths from Cylon strafing runs. However, when compared to the incinerated Mexico City and Las Vegas, it was minor in the overall picture, providing a person could shut off all emotion and try to maintain an objective viewpoint.
Objective, hell! Jess told herself, as vivid images of chaos and confusion across North America that she had witnessed replayed themselves in her mind. Columns of smoke trailing into the sky, terrified survivors pleading for help, the devastated wastelands that used to be Las Vegas and Mexico City . . . She felt a tight knot in the pit of her stomach.
Beep!
Jess winced. "Beeps", in general, were bad news. "What is it?"
"The good news is that the Cylons seem to be leaving the US en masse," Trent replied from the co-pilot's seat. "I'm getting reports from LA and Chicago, confirming it. Surviving Cylon fighter craft are starting to disengage."
"And?"
"The bad news is that one of those task forces is headed straight for us."
"ETA?"
"They're clearing the atmosphere now. They should intersect our position in . . . two minutes."
"Can we run?" Jess asked Carter, after a long moment.
"Not fast enough. Those babies are hauling some major ass. They might be slow in atmospheric flight, but they sure make up for it in space."
"Suggestions?"
"Close our eyes and hope like hell they don't see us."
"Very funny." Only, it wasn't. He was telling her they really had no recourse.
Carter smiled grimly. "Then we make a break for it, and run anyway." He altered course, engaging the engines.
xxxxx
"Hurry! Get in!" Snow White screamed, grabbing a fistful of Starbuck's flight suit and pulling with all her strength as concrete rained down on him outside the rig.
She wasn't just another pretty face.
He dived in through the window as Snow White pulled him on top of her across the seat. His face ended up nestled between her ample assets, but it probably wasn't the right time to dwell on that . . .
"Stay down!" he hollered as the rig groaned loudly. It was battered with falling pieces of debris, the windshield cracking and splintering under impact. The rig shuddered and then tipped even more, as a shower of glass suddenly rained down on them. The car deck above was exerting more pressure on the vehicle. He looked anxiously upward at the sound of heavily stressed, bending metal, wondering if the steel would hold or if it would be crushed like a house of cards.
"Oh, dear God . . ." Snow White whimpered from beneath him. "I don't wanna die!"
"That makes two of us," he replied, holding his breath as the racket of falling concrete died down around them. The rig groaned horribly again. Ten to one, they didn't have a lot of time. He pushed himself upward so he could look in her eyes. Glass from his back fell to the floor. "Snow White, you need to trust me. We have to get out of here. That upper deck is either going to crush your rig with us in it, or the bridge is going to totally collapse."
She sucked in a ragged breath, and then licked dry lips, her eyes seeming to search his for a long moment. It was the moment when he found out if her character could overcome her fear. Then: "Stop sugar coating it, Starbuck. Tell it like it is, for Christ's sake."
He smiled. "That's the spirit." He nodded encouragingly at her, as he tried to sit up in the cramped space to untie the line around his waist. There were limited places to put his hands, after all. He tied a large knot in the end of the rope, testing it. "We're going to use the rope to repel, then we'll swing out into a wide arc and jump . . ."
"Jump?" Her eyes just about popped out of her head and she shook her head vehemently from side to side. Suddenly she looked yahrens younger than he had originally placed her. "But I can't . . ."
"Swim, yeah, I know," he replied calmly. "Remember, you have the vest. It'll automatically inflate when you hit the water, and if by whatever chance it doesn't, it has a manual inflate cord right here." He showed her. "Just pull it. You're going to get out of this, Snow White. I give you my word as a warrior."
She was white as snow. "A w-warrior? I thought you were US Air Force."
"No, I'm a Colonial Warrior," he told her.
"Oh my God, you're that Starbuck! That explains your accent!" Her eyes opened even wider, if that was possible. "I heard parts of your speech at the UN!"
The news heralded the appearance of an F-35 far off to his right. It almost looked like it was lined up to pass under the bridge, which would be suicidal. At the last moment, it started to climb overhead, the sound of its engine retreating. Starbuck doubted it had spotted them.
"The one and only. Now, there's a boat down there. That's our ticket to shore, Snow White. I promise you, we won't be in the water long."
"What if the bridge collapses on top of us?" she asked a little breathlessly.
"Then I'll have been wrong, but at least we'll have tried," he reasoned, searching her eyes. "I long ago told myself that I would never go down without trying. I've never given up." He nodded at her. "Never give up, Snow White. Whatever you do, don't let life burst your bubble."
"'Don't let life burst your bubble'. Is that your credo?" she asked, shaking her head in bemusement.
"Ever since I read it on a Bubba-Yum wrapper when I was eight."
"Ohh," she grimaced, a smile playing on her lips as he began climbing through the front window out onto the hood. He brushed aside the remaining jagged pieces of glass with the rope. "That was bad, Starbuck."
"Just my luck, she's a critic," he replied lightly, pausing as she passed him through a pair of utility gloves from the seat.
"Here take these. You're going to need them."
"Thanks."
Moments later, he had donned the gloves and wrapped the rope around the metal of windshield frame a couple of times to secure it once again. He reached a hand through the broken window, offering her a hand up. She looked at him almost strangely before taking it. "Watch the glass," he warned her.
He helped her onto the hood, and then he shimmied forward on his astrum, hanging onto the rope to stop gravity from propelling him forward, while he threw the knotted end over the edge. "We're going to have to repel," he told her as she eased herself slowly forward. "Then start swinging when we reach the end of our rope."
"That might be sooner than you think," Snow White quipped, sliding cautiously in behind him, her thighs pressed snugly against his hips. "So, I take it we try to clear the bridge when we jump."
"Exactly," he replied. "Or at least get a good start."
"Okay. How do we climb down?"
The truck shuddered again, and the metal behind them creaked under duress.
"Quickly," he replied. "It's called 'fast roping'. I want you to hang on to me as tightly as you can, and don't let go."
"That I can do."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
He could feel her breasts pressing against him from behind as she moved in closer, her arms clinging to his chest and her legs looping around his waist. He drew a deep breath, trying to keep his mind on the job, then shimmied forward some more until he was resting on the end of the hood staring down at the metrons of empty air in front of him. That cooled his turbos. Hands, knees and feet all had to squeeze the rope simultaneously to slow his descent. It was almost like being back at the Academy, except his pack was a beautiful woman, and if he lost control they'd drop like a stone into cold ocean water instead of on the hard ground. At this height, they might survive; but from the end of the rope they'd have a far better chance. Then there was the matter of the bridge that looked like it would collapse on top of them any centon. Even Sergeant Brand at the Academy hadn't thought of that complication . . .
She suddenly kissed him on the cheek, like Miri had so long ago. "For luck," she said.
"Who needs luck?" he smiled at her confidently, while his stomach flipped at what he was about to attempt. "You've got me, after all."
He turned to start his descent, a micron later their combined weight driving them downward just a little too quickly, as his hands burned through the utility gloves. Above them, the air filled with a screeching, grating sound that echoed over the water and right through his soul. There was another explosion above. More glass and asphalt rained down on them. The rope swung sharply to the right and he looked upward in horror as his feet hit the knotted end, and then slid right past it. He clung desperately to the rope, refusing to lose his grip, as the knot passed his knees and then hit his hands, jerking his arms upward. Snow White screamed as they came to a sudden stop, his arms feeling like they'd been yanked from their sockets as they started swinging back under the bridge. Above them, the rig shifted suddenly, pitching forward. The concrete keeping it in place crumbled around it, raining down on them.
It was all going to come down on top of them!