Chapter Twenty

It happened so damned fast, and the chaos around him was so distracting that Starbuck didn't even see it coming. One centon he and Snow White were swinging the wrong way towards certain death, and the next an F-35 roared by, risking life, limb and fuselage by passing under the unstable bridge. The rope Starbuck was holding jerked tightly in the opposite direction—obviously snagged by something on the airplane—and they were suddenly swinging out from beneath the bridge, clear of the falling debris. Snow White was screaming with a sustained intensity that pierced his eardrums like lasers, as their arc widened until he figured they could go no further.

Then the rope snapped under the tension, the torque too much.

They plummeted towards the river; an instant later the ice cold water swallowed him alive. The extreme temperature shift shocked his system like a physical jolt, forcing him to expel a breath. Both head and chest filled with a painful pressure as he cut through the frigid depths, so recently the watery crypt for countless other victims of the Cylon attack. Something cold and solid brushed against him, and his vivid imagination kicked in, offering up all kinds of disagreeable possibilities. He began clawing his way back desperately towards the surface, determined to escape the horrors below, real or imagined.

Finally, he broke the surface, sucking a gratifying breath into his hungry lungs. He tossed his head, blinking the water and hair out of his eyes, then looked up in horror. The crumbling suspension bridge loomed above him, chunks the size of landrams still plunging into the river, Snow White's rig already gone. An entire car deck was ripping away from its last remaining supports, at any micron poised to crash into the water! This was all wrong! He was way too close to the bridge and closing in on it rapidly! Unbeknownst to him, there was one Hades of a current in this river, and it was dragging him back into danger!

xxxxx

"They're all around us!" Carter yelled as a squadron of Cylon Raiders swarmed the Venture on their return trip to the Ravager. As expected, outrunning the enemy fighters had been impossible for the Guardian Series space shuttle. It was like a medieval ox-cart versus a Formula One racer.

"Looking on the bright side, they haven't blown us up," Jess inserted, her bravado forced.

"Yet," Trent added.

"They blew Mexico City and Las Vegas right off the National Geographic, but for some reason have taken a liking to us. That doesn't make any bloody sense," Carter opined tensely, frowning as a laser blast to their right reined in his attempt to evade their careful herding.

"Here's to the nonsensical," Trent raised an imaginary glass.

"May it live to confuse us another day," Jess added, sucking in a breath as the Cylon Base Ship came into view. It was massive! More so than she had actually imagined. Like a city in space!

"Jess," Carter pointed.

She leaned forward, seeing an identical ship. Her father's. "Holy . . . Let's try to raise the Endeavour."

xxxxx

"Energize!" Dayton ordered, looking at his chrono. He glanced at Cassiopeia and Rhiamon, both standing by in the Control Centre. They looked about as grim as he felt.

A micron later shimmering particles of light united to form shapes, gradually materializing into their missing Colonial Warriors. Ensign Acastus was applying pressure to Cadet Xenia's abdomen; however, her blood was soaking through the thick field dressing as well as the fabric of her tunic, and the woman looked waxy grey and dazed. The others were crowded around, some standing, others kneeling. Superficially, the rest appeared unharmed.

"I need IV access!" Cassiopeia immediately hollered to Rhiamon as soon as the figures had solidified, her biomonitor already in hand. "Get her on the hoverstretcher and elevate her legs!" she ordered the cadets as she began her assessment. "Okay, stay with me, Cadet . . .!"

"Xenia," Acastus supplied.

"Xenia, can you speak?" Cassie asked.

"Ahhh . . ." the other managed to groan.

"The girl's doing her own bloodletting," the former Empyrean healer replied, pulling equipment out of her medical kit and placing a life mask on the injured warrior, before wrapping a tourniquet around her arm.

"Where's Ensign Luana?" Dorado asked.

"She went back for her ship, Captain," Ensign Trevanian replied, not looking up from his injured comrade.

"She did what?" Dayton barked, his gaze lingering on the fallen cadet. He didn't like the look of her. Cassiopeia and the others would have their hands full.

"She wasn't supposed to, Sir?" Acastus asked as they fought to stabilize his squadron mate. "She just took off like a vesperillon out of Hades Hole, armed to the teeth."

"She was supposed to beam here so we could fully engage the Ravager!" Dayton snapped, looking at Dorado. "Damn . . .son of a . . ."

"If that Wraith actually passed through the hull of a Cylon Ship, it might just be worth saving, Commander," Dorado suggested.

"Right now, I'm more concerned with this battle than the next one, Dorado!" barked Dayton. "Won't be another one if we screw up this one!"

"Understood, sir."

"But you're right." Dayton added grudgingly, deflating slightly. "If somehow the Cylons survive this, we can't let them take that kind of tech back to Cylon."

"I know, sir." Dorado nodded.

"Commander, I'm picking up a small force of Cylon Raiders on the scanner!" Sagaris said.

"Sir, I'm picking up a message, but it's breaking up," Pierus reported, his hand to his headset.

"Are any of those Raiders our Hybrids, Sagaris?" Dayton asked.

"I'm reading Phoenix Squadron identity codes, sir. It looks like they're chasing them!"

"Pierus, put that message on Unicom!" Dayton ordered.

". . .is . . . ayton . . . Venture . . . trouble . . .Cylons . . .request assistance . . ." It was a woman's voice, and damned if just about every instinct in Mark Dayton's body screamed out that it belonged to his daughter. But the only time he'd heard the voice of Jessica since leaving Earth was on Planet 'P' when they had seen the plea for help that the Worldwide Aeronautics and Space Agency of Earth had left for them, care of John the ever-cryptic Ship of Lights being. Dayton glanced over at Cassie, her features tense as she battled against time to stabilize Cadet Xenia. Trevanian and Acastus were helping out, beginning to push the stretcher towards the Life Station as the med techs worked on their patient.

Right now would be a really good time for you to put in an appearance, Ama. Or God-Almighty himself.

"Paddy?"

"Yeah. Identical voice, Mark. I'd stake my next drink on it."

"I agree," Porter added.

Dayton crossed to the scanner, looking at the familiar sea of triangles that indicated Cylon Raiders. "Where the hell is she?"

"Earlier we scanned a couple unidentified craft in low Earth orbit, Commander. She must have been aboard one of them."

"The Cylons overran them on their way back here to come to the aid of the Harrower," Dorado concluded.

"Can you locate any human biosigns there, Sagaris?" asked Dayton, indicating the spot with a finger on the screen.

"Yes," said the other, nose to scope. He shook his head. "I'm picking up a minor energy flux reading on one bio-band. But in all this EM soup . . . I can't localize it."

"But it's definitely there?" pressed Dayton, fingers white-knuckled on the edge of the monitor.

"Yes, but surrounded by Cylons, it's like trying to spot a piscon through muddy water."

"Sir, if they destroyed the shuttle, we'd have detected the explosion," offered Dorado. "She's still alive."

"So our little video deception to get those Raiders away from Earth ended up in my daughter's ship being engulfed by Cylons," Dayton said, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to figure out what to do next. Right now, he felt like when he was little, and his cousin had shoved him down the basement stairs. No clear idea of what was happening, no clear vision of what lay ahead. "Dorado?"

"Hostages, Commander. It's seldom that Cylons take them, but when they feel it strengthens their position somehow . . ."

"Damn!" Dayton muttered. "Is Rooke close enough to intercede?"

"No, sir. Phoenix Squadron is gaining, but not fast enough."

"Tell them to floor it, turbines be damned!"

"Sir."

"And send an encrypted transmission to Luana," Dayton ordered. "First bust her back down to Sub-Ensign Bargain Basement Level for disobeying orders, then tell her . . ."

xxxxx

What was once lush, green and teaming with life was now a blackened, vacuous wasteland. There wasn't even a single recognizable landmark to orient Ama back to the river and caves that once were the habitat for her beloved Empyreans. Around her was hollowness and emptiness, an aching desolation, death, where once was life. There was nothing even left of the spirits of her people, those souls who had chosen to stay behind when the bulk of the Empyreans had joined the Colonial Fleet. It was as if some dark entity had sucked all life, all vibrancy, all energy from this forsaken place.

She smiled humourlessly, the irony of it all not escaping her, the Great Powers' lesson as plain as the scarred and deformed mutilation that had once been her home. Using the Oculus and her newly developed powers, it took little to discern that the Cylons had followed the Colonials here, that it was the Edict of Extermination that had wiped old friends off of the face of humanity. The Cylons had done that which the Cylons always do, and unleashed an ineluctable, overwhelming wave of death upon her ancestral home. The cursed machines still hunted the Fleet, as much as Adama and most of the Council of Twelve had hoped otherwise.

Yet, she sensed her father's hand in this too. Had Iblis finally sought revenge on her people for her mother's part in "betraying" him to the Great Powers generations ago? The Cylons were the Evil One's pawns, after all.

She loosed the bonds of her consciousness a bit further, while a spark of energy began to draw near, as conspicuous as a shimmering light in a sea of bleakness. Once, she wouldn't have detected it this early. Now, however, her powers had evolved to warn her of these presences . . . or any. She sniffed when she realized they had both come. Apparently, they were teaming up on her.

"We're not here to bully you, Ama," John said as his familiar form materialized in front of her.

"Well, let's not rule it out completely," Baltar added with a faint smile, appearing beside the other Ship of Lights being.

For a change, she had nothing to say in return. No riposte, none of what Paddy-Ryan called her "one-liners". Surprisingly, she had a strong desire to seek out Chameleon, and to bury herself in his arms, hiding for as long as it took to find herself once again. Grief, however, was a luxury. Time was her enemy. Oh, how she suddenly longed to be a simple Empyrean necromancer once again, as she had been when she and the conman had first met. It had been a long time since she'd spared a thought for Starbuck's father.

"It's been a long time since you spared a thought for Starbuck," John reproved her.

"You may believe that to be true," she replied quietly. "Starbuck has no need to mollycoddled, after all. He does just fine without me intervening . . . as long as Iblis is likewise out of the range of influence."

"Then this flexing of your celestial powers is all part of a greater plan to keep away and then overcome Count Iblis?" Baltar asked, glancing at John in relief.

"I cannot."

"You cannot overcome him?" Baltar asked, furrowing his brow. He looked shaken.

"Or you chose not to?" John added. "Whether it was the Oculus or the entity that fortified you, the power you now wield, Ama, is nothing like any of ushave ever witnessed before. The Elders believe that you could actually destroy Iblis."

"Only if I then take his place, John, maintaining the balance of the universe. Isn't that how the scheme of things works? Hmm? I told you once already. What was it my father said? Oh, yes. 'Without darkness, the light would go unprized; without evil, goodness would have no meaning.'" She sighed, turning away from them. "Is that what the Great Powers wish? A change of adversary? Is Count Iblis beginning to bore them?"

There was a conspicuous silence behind her as they weighed her words.

"Are you certain about this, Ama?" Baltar asked her. "Are you certain of the truth in any of Iblis' words?"

She turned, holding out the Oculus. A golden spark of energy followed the pathway of threads that appeared to weave their way over the sphere, going on eternally. "I'm not fool enough to accept Iblis' word. Take it, Baltar." She looked up from the mysterious orb and met the Count's eyes. "See for yourself."

The former betrayer of mankind reached out instinctively, a gleam in his eyes and, for an instant, an ugly yearning on his features. Abruptly, he startled, pulling his hand back as if stung, curling it into a fist. "I . . . I don't think I have the fortitude . . .I know I do not."

Ama snorted derisively, turning to the other, offering it to him in kind. "John? What say you? Learn all there is to learn, know all there is to know. See beyond doubt what truth really is." Her tone of voice rose dramatically, like a peddler selling her wares.

The Being of Light shook his head decisively, his expression impassive. "I am not the Chosen One, Ama. It is not left to me to be the Keeper."

"No, that was Eirys," Ama replied, looking at Baltar. He winced, obviously reliving Caradoc's betrayal and his own inability to defend the Angylion sorceress. "Shall I return it to her, Baltar?"

"Eirys is gone, Ama," Baltar said, eyes downcast before flashing in anger at her. "Do not taunt me so!"

Ama smiled. "How very narrow-minded of you, Baltar. Eirys may be beyond the reach of even the Great Powers, who would refuse to interfere in their usual ineffectual way, but she is not beyond my reach. Like Count Iblis before her, she merely exists in another realm beyond our own." She hefted the Oculus in her hand. "The Oculus is the key to her liberation. That, and the will to release her."

"She lives?" Baltar whispered.

"In a manner of speaking," Ama replied in amusement.

"Do not toy with me, woman!" Baltar snarled. "Do not prattle like some over-clever Protector! Speak plainly, if you can!"

Ama cackled. "Oh, I like it when you get feisty, Baltar! Honestly, you were so much more fun as an flesh-bound being."

"What do you mean 'in a manner of speaking', Witch? Does she live or not?" Baltar demanded, his back ramrod straight, and his teeth gritted.

"Take it and find out for yourself, Baltar," Ama tempted him with the orb. "Take it."

xxxxx

"Starbuck!" the desperate shriek echoed across the water.

"Here!" he answered, while the encroaching roar of an Earth aircraft filled his ears and the river's current continued to propel him towards the collapsing bridge.

Snow White's terrified voice was coming from off to his left where her blonde head bobbed up and down in the river. A quick look around showed him that the boat was way out of reach, choosing somewhat unfortunately to keep a safe distance. By the looks of things, those aboard were scanning this adventure as it unfolded. Lords, how he'd love to get his hands on that vid-cam so he could wrap its tripod around the camera man's neck a time or three. More on that later. Back to you, Bucko . . .

Above and on approach from his right, he could see the now familiar lines of the Lightning aircraft using its vertical lift system to hover nearby, the downward thrust creating enormous swells that pushed him towards Snow White, but also towards the bridge. At this point he had mixed feelings, realizing the pilot's potentially suicidal run to shift the direction of the swing that their rope had taken had saved their lives, but right now—eyeballs high in turbulent water—he was having less than friendly thoughts about the guy. Maybe the pilot had something in mind that he wasn't catching on to. He sure as heck hoped so, since he was rapidly running out of super brilliant or even dubiously sketchy ideas of his own. Urgently, he struck out for Snow White, cutting through the water at a pace he knew he couldn't keep up for long, closing the distance between them. Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. He was being tossed around like a child's ball in a game of Porcine In The Middle. While he considered himself a fairly strong swimmer, he hadn't exactly won any titles for his abilities back at the Academy, unless you included "least likely to show up". Finally, his hand grasped the life preserver keeping Snow White afloat. He gulped in deep breaths as his burning chest heaved from his latest exertions.

"Starbuck!" Snow White shrieked again, turning and clawing at him in terror.

She seemed to be trying to climb atop of him, which at another time or place might have been a pleasant diversion—if he wasn't sealed, that is. She pushed him under in her panic, and he struggled against her thrashing limbs as he surfaced again, grabbing the life vest with both hands and pulling her towards him.

"Stop it! You're going to be alright!" he yelled at her

"But I . . ."

"You'll drown us both if you don't calm down!"

There was a rumble and tortuous groan above. Together they stared upwards in stark terror as more gigantic chunks of debris hurtled downward, landing only twenty metrons from them, metal shrieking as it ripped like fabric. More waves broke, this time the sudden swells pushing them back the way they had come. It was a brief reprieve. A moment later they drifted back towards the bridge. The waves from the F-35 had receded a little, and a glance over at the aircraft revealed it had gained some altitude and was still climbing. Thankfully, the pilot seemed to have realized the detrimental effect he was causing as he watched over them.

Starbuck tightened his grip on the life preserver, using one arm and kicking for all he was worth to try to propel them against the current. Desperation was his ally as adrenaline pumped through his exhausted limbs, forcing them to function. It was like flogging a dead equine and he knew it. He would never beat the current, but he refused to concede. He'd keep fighting with his last breath, struggling until the end . . .

"Starbuck!" Snow White cried.

The Lightning was far above them now, dangling its decoy and towline like a rope ladder. The same decoy system that had snagged him earlier from another strike fighter was now dangling tantalisingly above him, promising him a tow. It was an inspired idea! He only had to hold out long enough . . .

"Please, Starbuck. You can do it!" Snow White pleaded with him.

His chest was burning; his legs felt like he was wearing tylinium boots; if he took one more drink of New York water he was going to toss the big apple. He chanced another look over his shoulder, almost crying out in relief as the decoy dropped into the water almost on top of them, sinking immediately. He only had to reach out and grab the line. He dived towards it, his hand clenching the heavy cable as he pulled them in tight.

"Hang on, Snow White!" he yelled, feeling her arms snake around him. He waved furiously upward . . .

As the Brooklyn Bridge began to collapse above them.