Chapter Ten
"Get down!" Dayton yelled, pulling his weapon and taking out the first centurion. Its chest blew open in a mass of sparks and smoke, and it toppled with a crash. Another fired, and there was a scream. Dayton fired back, blowing the Cylon's face off, then pivoting to look behind him as dread seized him by the throat. The scream echoed through his brain. He damn well knew it was . . .
Cassiopeia's eyes were wide with shock and her alabaster skin was ashen, as she slumped against Ryan. Paddy looked as surprised as the med tech, tripping over his own feet as she stumbled against him. Together they dropped to the ground, which scared the hell out of Dayton even more. To make matters worse, Baltar, of all people, squatted down beside them! Dayton started towards them, instead jerking to a halt and diving for cover behind one of the shrine's upright stones, when he felt the heat of a Cylon laser blast just about singe his nose hairs. Continuous fire on his position pinned him down.
"Starbuck!" Lu shouted.
With a glance to the left, Dayton could see that the strike captain had liberated his wife's weapon, which Starbuck would no doubt pay for later. He pulled her aside, and then fired off several shots at the advancing centurions, before grabbing Lu's arm and diving for the cover of the altars as he too was targeted. Cylon lasers ripped up the ground where he had been, missing him by centimetrons.
Apollo was meanwhile following the same high road that Ryan had taken earlier, getting above the Cylons. In no time, he would gain the vantage point that would decimate them . . . as long as he could finish them before they spotted him. If he was caught precariously balanced on a rock ledge, he'd have little chance.
Dietra and Lia were providing covering fire, giving their colonel every opportunity to succeed as more Cylons flooded in. How big was this bloody patrol, anyhow?
The goblins seemed to fade into the landscape, their dark clothing blending into the dour background. At first Dayton thought they were hiding, but he realized that they had stealthily retrieved their weapons and were advancing on the Cylons. With astonishment he watched them trip one up, by a goblin throwing itself at the centurion's legs and upsetting its balance, while compatriots violently attacked the Cylon with blades, swords, rocks and anything else available. One goblin fell to a centurion's sword, its head cloven in a single blow, while another Cylon had its faceplate smashed in by a rock. A third was knocked down by another "cannonballing" goblin from behind the knees. A moment later, the rest of them fell upon the trashcan with their weapons, doing their worst.
"Regroup!" droned the patrol leader, a gold-plated centurion. "Regroup!" Dayton fired at that one. He missed, and the centurion rather nimbly ducked back into the cave mouth.
It gave him his chance.
Dayton fired again, but only hit the rock over the cave mouth. But it was enough to make Goldilocks keep his mechanical head down, and the Earthman ran for his lady, to find her on the ground, in a heap, off to Paddy's side. A quick glance revealed his friend raising a hand briefly, as though in casual greeting, then let it drop back down to his stomach. Much to Dayton's surprise, not two feet away, behind the totally inadequate cover of an outcrop of rock, Baltar was firing at the same gold centurion, covering him. Vaguely, he wondered where the traitor had obtained the weapon, but a moment later it ceased to matter when, even more to his surprise, the Colonial con-on-the-lam took the walking dumpster down, blowing its leg off, and sending it toppling to the ground.
"By your command!" Baltar raved, firing off another shot at a nearby centurion.
"Cassiopeia! Cassiopeia!" Dayton cried, as he dropped to his knees on the ground beside her. She lay on her side, hand to her right hip. In the dim light, he couldn't make out how serious her injury was, but her face was twisted in pain.
"I'm . . . I'm okay, Mark," she returned breathlessly. "It's sore, but superficial. I never . . . well . . . " Tears of pain and fear filled her blue eyes.
"Shh! I'm here," he assured her, pausing briefly to wipe away her tears, as he steeled himself. Feeling more panic than he would like to admit, Dayton leaned down and looked at the wound. She drew in a sharp breath, as he pulled the ruined material of her form-fitting black fatigues away from her charred flesh. Sure enough, it seemed the beam had merely sheared the surface, leaving a burn that would hurt like hell, but it was hardly life threatening. He let out a breath of relief. "Yeah, sweetheart. I guess you're right."
His heart stopped trying to climb up his throat and leap out of his mouth. Finally, he turned his attention to his friend of thirty years, almost wondering why he hadn't heard any witty—or witless—retorts by now. "Okay Paddy, how about you?"
But Patrick Ryan did not respond.
"Paddy? Paddy?" Nothing. "PADDY!!!"
----------
"Adama, that's about as crazy as that Count Iblis story you told me," Cain shook his head, his features betraying his incredulity over the private comm link. "I mean really!"
"Yet, every word of it is true, Cain," Adama stroked his chin thoughtfully, sitting back in the chair in his office. "And it leaves me wondering if Iblis is back, or if this is another attempt of the Beings from the Ship of Lights to communicate with us."
"You said that once when they communicated with you, that you ended up parsecs away, interrupting a nuclear war."
"Yes, which is why I think the time might be right for the Pegasus to take a shakedown cruise of her own . . ."
Cain chuckled. "Now, Adama, didn't you just point out to this old war-equine that Commander Dayton wouldn't appreciate me stepping in where I'm not wanted."
"That was before, when I believed the Cylons might be involved, somehow." Adama shrugged. "This latest information from Corporal Komma infers something radically different. I don't know who or what precisely this Being is, where she comes from, or what it is that she wants. . ."
"Well, I'll be there to back up the Endeavour, regardless," Cain replied. "We'll be ready to leave . . ." he glanced at his chrono, smiling slightly, "in two centons."
"About as much time as it will take for you to issue the order, and get to the Bridge," Adama smiled, shaking his head knowingly. "You're ready to ship out. Were you going to await my order, or just fabricate some excuse to get out there, old friend?"
An animation filled the other's face, making him appear yahrens younger. He smiled, considering it. "Well, the answer to that doesn't really matter anymore. Does it?"
"So it would appear."
"That's the problem with us working together, Adama," grinned Cain. "You know me too well."
"Cain," Adama murmured disapprovingly.
"Must be this damn implant misfiring," Cain tapped the side of his head, mischief dancing in his blue eyes. All recent checks of the neural implant had it functioning optimally. However, that didn't stop Cain from using it for the rare excuse he felt he should offer. "I'll have Tigh take over, while I report to the Life Station for a quick check up."
"Yes, I'll just bet you will . . ." Adama returned doubtfully. "Thank the blessed Lords you're on our side. Good luck."
"Luck rarely enters into it, Adama," the Juggernaut returned. "Cain out."
----------
Baker sighed, looking over the chewed rim of his java cup, from where he sat at the desk, watching Malus. The IL continued to clean up Starbuck's office as he rambled off endless reams of mathematical data and equations about wormholes, black holes, alternate dimensions, temporal displacement, various methods of entry into hyperspace, and other theoretical anomalies. Oh, the Cylon didn't use the same terminology, preferring to speak of "emissions of particles and light with characteristic energy spectra", in addition to "detectable electromagnetic fields continuously fluctuating", while he calculated endless algorithms, and myriad permutations of dozens of mathematical theorems that had Baker's head swimming. Occasionally, Malus would stop to make a comment, or to ask a question—or strangely enough—to twitch, but so far the most salient advice Baker and Coxcoxtli had offered was which perishable items Malus could safely dispose of as he began to make a dent in the disaster, no, make that toxic waste dump, that Starbuck worked in.
"Using the plasma model for the metal dielectric function we have calculated the electromagnetic-fluctuation-induced forces to within a tolerance of . . ."
Malus continued to natter incessantly, as he started tidying a shelf unit, actually relocating items from Starbuck's overflowing desk to it. Baker blinked, trying to keep up, and actually felt a little relieved when he saw that Coxcoxtli's eyes looked as though they were glazing over on the opposite side of the desk.
"The force for unit area is considerable and it shows an intensity maximum at a specific plasma value, which cannot be predicted on the basis of a non-retarded description of the electromagnetic interaction," Malus added, glancing at the Humans. "This is rather stimulating, I must say! It reminds me of the time that Commander Yugra ordered me to wipe select data from my memory base after . . ." He paused, his head twitching to the side once again. "Hmm. It's rather persistent."
"Nervous twitch, Mal?" Baker asked, frowning. He'd seen several weird behaviours from the IL, but admittedly was hardly an authority on Cylons. "Maybe you should finally run that diagnostic you've been avoiding all these years."
"You're the second person to mention that today," Malus returned, before launching into another mind-boggling speech, while motioning to the sensor logs, stacked haphazardly on a corner of the desk, threatening to topple, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Apparently, they indicated something pertinent.
Baker nodded, taking his feet off the desk and leaning forward to consider the data. Maybe it meant something to a Cylon, but it sure as hell didn't to him. Man, he was going to kill Dayton just as soon as his fearless leader returned from this mission. What he wouldn't give to change places with him now . . .
"It is shown that the force can change the sign from attraction to repulsion upon changing the substrate plasma frequency . . ." Malus continued. He once more focused on Baker. "You follow, of course."
"Of course," wheezed Baker.
"Excellent. So you see, it should be a trifling matter, to adjust the towing beam to repel, and use it as a weapon. Therefore, by analogy, the phenomenon itself can be reversed as it were, and we should be able to . . ." His head twitched to the right once again as his monologue abruptly died. Almost eerily, he stood as still as a statue. It reminded Baker of a certain character rusting up in Oz.
Suddenly, the lights in Malus' head started flickering erratically, looking like a disco ball. Still the IL remained motionless. The Earthman glanced over at Coxcoxtli.
"Is he going to blow?" the younger man asked.
"Not sure," Baker replied, getting to his feet and knocking on Malus' head. "Mal? You in there? I left my oilcan in my other suit, Tin Man."
Then slowly, Malus seemed to come to "life", turning his head to straighten it, and then methodically moving towards the computer.
"Malus?" Baker asked.
"I think I may need that diagnostic, after all."
----------
Apollo started firing from his precarious position upon a rocky ledge directly above the advancing Cylons, taking down two before they could compute the data, and figure out where the newest attack was coming from. A moment later, the rock wall beside him exploded from the blast of a pulse rifle. He raised his arm, covering his face as his body was pummelled by heat and rock fragments. Twisting to the side, he could feel his heel slip, as the ledge below him began to crumble. If he didn't do something, he'd either get shot, or fall, neither option attractive. Meanwhile Dietra was springing towards the fallen Ryan, uncharacteristically unmindful of her safety as Dayton called his friend's name desperately. The Cylon below Apollo took aim at the running lieutenant, oblivious to all but his target. A milli-centon later Apollo took a leap of faith, and gravity, pushing himself off the wall of the cave with a hand before the strata under him gave way completely, despite knowing that Cylons weren't any softer than rocks.
For the Glory of Caprica!
He crashed down on top of the centurion, sending its weapon flying from its grasp as it tumbled to the ground. Apollo rolled, then scrambled to put some distance between them, meanwhile gripping his own weapon tightly, making sure he didn't inadvertently drop it. A bare metron away, the colonel rolled onto his back, raising the pistol in both hands, taking aim and firing. The Cylon, halfway back onto its feet, took the shot directly, jerking spasmodically, sparks and smoke flaring from its savaged chest, before it dropped limply to the ground.
"Apollo! Get down!" a voice hollered.
Apollo flattened himself, feeling the heat from the laser blast that passed over him. He gritted his teeth from the pain as it burned his skin. An answering beam took out the centurion that he hadn't even seen. Gratefully, he took in the smoking Cylon, then he glanced at Lia, who was still poised for action, her weapon sweeping the area for the enemy.
"I think we nailed them!" she called out, but didn't drop the defensive stance. Sure enough, the entire Cylon patrol was destroyed, with but two casualties on the part of the Colonials.
Starbuck cautiously climbed to his feet from behind the altar, pulling Luana up beside him. She scowled at him, holding out her hand for the weapon he had jerked out of her holster when the Cylon attack had begun. He smiled weakly, returning it. "Thanks for the loan."
"If you ever do that again . . ." she paused, sighing and brushing back a stray tendril of hair, as she glanced over to the injured. She motioned over. "Starbuck . . ."
Starbuck nodded, doing a quick visual sweep of the area. The Odreds were gathering up Cylon pulse rifles, which didn't exactly fill him with confidence, but in light of their abrupt alliance, he could only hope for the best, and be prepared. Ama and Eirys seemed to be checking out the princes. To his untrained eye, they looked just as dead as they had before . . . without any further holes in them from the exchange, thankfully. He leaned in closer to Lu and murmured in her ear, "Find a vantage point and keep the trolls covered." He squeezed her hand.
"Right."
"Go."
As Lu crept away, Starbuck glanced at the entrance where Apollo and Lia were already preparing to check their perimeter. "Yo! Apollo! Got it?" he called out, wondering if they needed his help.
"Got it!" Apollo returned, waving a hand in dismissal before they disappeared through the mouth of the cave to the outside.
Starbuck waited a micron, listening for the sound of shots being exchanged. There was none. "How bad is it?" he asked, crossing over to squeeze Dayton's shoulder as the Earthman kneeled beside Cassie, watching as the med tech studied her biomonitor results. Dietra kneeled on the other side, biting her lip and smoothing back Ryan's unruly grey hair. She blinked frequently, and then wiped at traitorous tears that spilled over onto her cheeks. Paddy was coming to, and his face twisted into a grimace of misery as he groaned and opened his eyes, looking about wildly, as he tried to curl into a tight ball.
"Easy, Paddy," Cassiopeia murmured, instantly dosing him with her hypospray. "I need to finish my assessment. Lie still."
"I'm here, Paddy. So is Dee." Dayton reached for his friend's hands as Ryan reflexively sought out the source of the pain. Meanwhile, Dietra leaned over her man, murmuring softly in his ear. Dayton continued to speak to him, trying to keep him grounded, "Cassiopeia's just checking you out, bud. You got shot. Belly wound."
"Really . . .?" Ryan gasped, sucking in a breath through his teeth and then panting like a winded man. He squeezed Dayton's hands, his grip feeling like a crushing vice. It was an indication of the pain he was in. "Lord thunderin' Jaysus, Mark, it feels like . . . that friggin' obediator is . . . is back inside of me . . ." He glanced up at Dietra, and he made an effort to control his breathing, pasting on a wan smile. "Ah, an angel."
"You're going to be okay, Paddy," Dee whispered huskily.
Ryan nodded, his teeth clenching with the pain, and his face contorting again.
"How bad is it, Cassiopeia?" Dayton repeated. He looked from his fallen friend, to his lover.
"Bad enough that . . . we're holding hands . . . Snookums," Ryan quipped with effort.
"Stop dramatizing, Puddin'," Dayton returned softly. "You'll be okay."
Of course he'd be okay. He had to be!
Cassie adjusted her biomonitor, her own features impassive as she began pulling equipment out of her bag. "I'm going to have to open him up. There's internal bleeding. Fortunately, the beam had lost some energy before it hit. How much I don't know." She glanced around the cavern, shaking her head slightly. The conditions weren't exactly conducive to a surgery. A moment later she worked on establishing an intravenous. "The laser cuts through tissue, destroying it. The problem is that even if I stop the bleeding, I won't know how much surrounding tissue will start to necrose later from the laser." Cylon weapons were deliberately modulated to be as destructive to Human tissue as possible. She had learned that over Kobol, with Serina. "It sometimes takes a while to demarcate, yet I don't want to cut away bowel unless it's absolutely necessary."
"Tell me she didn't say 'bowel'," Ryan grunted. "Oh, crap!" He suddenly hacked, his cough trailing off into a low groan.
"Two surgeries?" Dietra asked.
"I hope not. Depends how bad it looks when I get in there," Cassie replied honestly. She picked up the portable scanner and passed it over the injured area again. The scowl and shake of her head spoke volumes.
"Never thought I'd wish for a good old-fashioned bullet," Dayton murmured soberly. At least they would have known the general extent of the damage. These damn alien death rays were like nuclear radiation, often taking days to clearly delineate the damage.
Provided the victim lived that long!
"Give it to me to. . . to bite . . . if you find one . . ." Ryan returned, coughing.
"Shh!" Dietra hushed him.
"I've been blethering my whole life . . . not gonna stop now . . ." Ryan replied breathlessly. "Yeah, Mother Ryan always used to say . . ."
"It's called conserving your strength," Dayton told him, not liking the increasing pallor. Cassie was inserted some kind of IV fluid into a pump in an effort to compensate for blood loss, while handing Dayton a life mask. He quickly slipped it on Ryan.
"For what, exactly?" Ryan returned, pulling at the mask. He glanced up at Starbuck. "Isn't this your bag, Starbuck?"
"Shut the hell up, Patrick!" Dayton suddenly exploded, as much to his own surprise as everyone else's. "That's a God-damned order!"
"That's exactly . . . what Mother Ryan used to say . . ." returned Paddy weakly, as a shiver shook his frame. "How'd ya . . . how'd ya know?"
Dayton sucked in a steadying breath, letting out a ragged one. "You always were an irritating SOB, you . . ."
"Is that American for . . . I love you?" returned Ryan, his eyes closing, and a satisfied smile creeping over his features.
"Damn, Ryan . . ." Starbuck murmured quietly, then looked at Cassie. "What do you need, Cass? What can I do to help?"
"I need more light. And a surface I can work on."
"There's a spot outside," Starbuck winced at the choice of King Cadoc's burial vault as the only flat surface available . . . other than the altars the princes occupied in the dimly lit Holy Sanctum. Somehow, he didn't think that would fly with the Odreds. "Let me make sure the area is secure, and I'll see what these guys brought in the way of illumination in their field packs."
"Thank you, Starbuck," she nodded after him as he quickly moved towards the main entrance.
Dayton's gaze followed him, hearing him call out to Apollo. Ryan's breathing was becoming more and more laboured, and he'd stopped blethering . . . Not good signs. Of course, there was the hope that the narcotic had simply settled him. Abruptly, Dayton had an idea! "Ama! Can't we just zip him home?"
"Zip him home, Mark-Dayton?" Ama repeated as she moved to join them. "What am I? Colonial Transit?"
The Earthman's eyes narrowed dangerously, as he looked between his injured best friend and the necromancer. "Listen, lady . . ."
"Hold your tongue before you say something you'll regret later, Commander," Ama reprimanded him. Even in her sharp tone, he could hear the strain. She was as worried as he was. "If you remember, I focussed on Starbuck's life force to bring us here. I'm a little new at crossing dimensions, and I'm not altogether sure at how I'm going to get us back there." She glanced at the Odred sorceress.
"What?" Dayton asked, abruptly tempted to wrap his hands around her throat. "You never said we couldn't get back!"
"No, I never did," Ama agreed. "Because I believe we can." She glanced at Eirys. "And I believe the Hag will help. For a price."
"You will help us then?" Eirys asked, looking pointedly at Luana who was covering them from atop an outcrop of rock.
"Before I answer that, I need to hear this story that Starbuck was talking about."
"We don't have time for stories, for Christ's sake! Ryan needs help now! He's bleeding!" Dayton growled in frustration. Cassie nodded her agreement, glancing anxiously towards the entrance.
Ama held her hands out towards Eirys, "It won't take long. If you will permit me?"
The troll narrowed her eyes, taking a step back. "Baltar?"
Baltar looked surprised for a moment that Eirys was asking for his advice. Perhaps it was his apparent resemblance to General Caradoc in the Angylion form that leant to her trust of him. "Allow it." Then he sniffed aloud, recalling Ama probing his mind on the Prison Barge. "For if you don't, she will do it anyways."
"I see," Eirys conceded uncertainly, stepping boldly forward into the circle of the Empyrean necromancer's arms. A moment later, Ama had touched the troll's temples with her fingers, and tilted her forehead against Eirys' until they touched.
"Ryan?" Dayton whispered down at his friend.
Paddy's eyelids fluttered open, glancing at Dayton blurrily.
"The Canucks are in the playoffs . . ." Dayton told him.
Ryan smiled, squeezing Dayton's hand. "Great. Put me down for a loonie, each way."
"Take a cheque? I'm tapped, till payday."
"Liar."
A centon later, the women parted, Ama nodding. "Very well. I was told by someone that I believe you would refer to as a 'Mystic' that a very great injustice must be undone, in order for a terrible disaster to be averted."
"Who is this Mystic?" Caradoc interrupted. "Is it Llyr? Has he returned to help us?"
"I don't know of him by that name, but he seemed to think I could help you. He didn't mention you would come plucking my people out of our dimension and using them for blood sacrifices, however," Ama told Eirys, with a raised eyebrow. Dayton almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to regard her. "He also didn't mention Iblis, and I will certainly be speaking to him about that."
"I will not apologize for trying to save the Angylion race. I did nothing to irreparably harm either Starbuck or Baltar," Eirys defended herself.
"More's the pity with Baltar," Dayton muttered. "Ama, you had warning of this? And you didn't bother to let me know? Was it John? Did he come to you?"
She sighed. "Yes, it was John. But to your mind it would have been . . . fiddle-faddle, Mark-Dayton. Nebulous, at best. Nothing I could take to a man like you, and since it was destined, it seemed pointless." She glanced back to Eirys as he glowered at her. "You have the Doublewalkers of your princes, and your Oculus, Hag. I imagine there is also a spell to reverse this curse?"
"Yes. We have all the elements. But we need to wait until the time is just right," Eirys replied with a glance at Baltar and Caradoc. Then she looked at Ama uncertainly.
"Who will perform the ritual?" Baltar asked.
"I'm not sure I have the power to break Iblis' spell, although I certainly would have risked it. But the Telling said that the White Witch could . . ." Eirys trailed off hopefully.
"Very well," Ama conceded. "Do you have this spell? I must study it."
"Yes, of course."
A low groan from Ryan, and Ama frowned in his direction. "Can we send Ryan back through the power of your Oculus, Hag?"
"He may not survive, considering his life force is already dwindling," Eirys replied. "Perhaps if you went with him to protect him from the forces exerted on his body . . . but I cannot allow that, Witch. I need you here. And every time we pass through the Nonentity, we risk the chance of drawing the Mystics' attention. If Iblis was to intervene now, I would lose the chance to free my people from his enchantment."
"That's one hell of a big 'if'!" Dayton returned. "This man could die!"
"One life for tens of thousands . . ." Eirys shrugged. "I know it sounds harsh . . ."
"A people at war for a thousand yahrens can understand better than most," Baltar inserted quietly. "Besides, we have able medical personnel right here."
Dayton glowered at him. Ryan had consistently advocated for Baltar's demise while on Planet 'P'. The traitor hadn't forgotten. Still, in reality, all that taking Ryan to the Endeavour would get them would be a clean operating room. Either way, it would be up to Cassiopeia to save him. His best friend's life was in the hands of his lady, and Dayton couldn't help but dwell on the fact that she wasn't quite a qualified physician, despite her knowledge and training. Add to that his suspicions those same thoughts of doubt and nervousness had to be going through her head. He gritted his teeth, grinding them together, trying to quell his anger, helplessness, and hopelessness. Frankly, if he could grind Baltar's face into the rock, it might go a long way towards making him feel better . . . Instead, he finally replied, "Yeah, he's in the best of hands."
Cassie met his gaze, nodding thankfully that she had his vote of confidence. Then anxiously, she glanced towards the cave entrance. "Where's Starbuck?"
On cue, the strike captain jogged in through the front entrance, followed by Lia. "No sign of any more Cylons. Are you ready, Cass?"
"More than ready."
"Okay. Let's move."