Escape to Ragnar

by progomphus

Drifting and unconscious in his Viper after the Battle of Virgon, Derek "Green-Bean" Robinaux is picked up by Captain Davenport and her seasoned crew. With their entire civilization annihilated after a Cylon surprise attack, these survivors must put aside their prejudices and work together to survive and find the Battlestar Galactica. This story is canon compliant.

16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 – Running the Gauntlet

Cylon Basestar J529

Alexei had immediately recognized the freighter hiding behind the Colonial Battlestar as the one that had escaped him at Sagittaron earlier. Knowing that he could not let the troublesome starship thwart him a second time, he had quickly diverted three missiles to target the freighter in place of the beleaguered warship. To his dismay, he watched in silent shock as two of the missiles suddenly changed direction, angling out of control and away from the Colonial vessels. Focused entirely on the last missile, he blocked every other aspect of the battle out, willing the weapon towards the irksome ship. His lips curled into a smile as he watched the missile curve underneath the lumbering freighter. Suddenly it shook violently, and for an instant, the ship disappeared in the glare of the explosion.

"Dammit!" he cursed loudly, as the ship reappeared a moment later, continuing to accelerate away from the planet. He vowed that that ship would not escape, and with a malice that he had never felt before, he forcibly sunk his fingers into the control basin. His mind raced through the weapons systems searching for an available launcher to override. He effortlessly connected with a battery on the primary dorsal arm, and with a thought launched five missiles at the galling freighter. Smiling capriciously, he thought, I will have you…

"Two! What are you doing" the aged model One shrieked at him.

Startled back into the present, Alexei focused on the group of humanoid Cylons staring at him. "The civilian ships are attempting to escape. With their lack of armor, they make much easier targets than the Galactica," he answered anxiously.

The One seemed to stop to consider this for a moment, carefully weighing each word that Alexei had spoken. "Fine, target the civilian ships when they are in range, but destroying the Galactica takes priority. The human fleet cannot survive if they don't have their precious Battlestar to cower behind."

"Agreed," a Model Four answered quickly. He paused to turn his full attention towards Alexei, "Tell me Two; is there a reason why you have tasked eight missiles to this one freighter?"

Alexei took a slow breath before answering, "This ship escaped me earlier at Sagittaron, and I wanted to make sure that it doesn't get away again."

The Four stoically watched Alexei for a few moments, his arms crossed across his chest, but his expression had changed just enough to show his disdain for Alexei's rationing. Finally he uncrossed his arms and casually spun back to his station, and the battle before them.

Alexei didn't care much for the Four's in general, they were too analytical and overly cerebral. Worse, they showed little devotion to the one true god, and in his opinion, they were not true believers. He quietly returned his hands into the control basin in order to check on the progress of the missiles. Only two of the five had survived Galactica's impressive flack wall, and they were quickly closing the gap to his freighter. The first missile exploded in a brilliant explosion, well short of its target. No doubt the victim of one of the Galactica's many guns. The last missile continued on, dangerous fire from the Battlestar just missing as it sped by. He waited anxiously as the missile crossed the final few kilometers to the freighter. He clenched his teeth in anticipation, and then bowed his head as the missile turned off course at the last second, shooting harmlessly into the planet's atmosphere. Alexei removed his hands from the basin. Shaking his head in disappointment he began to walk towards the Four on the other side of the chamber. He stood behind the tall Cylon, silently waiting to be acknowledged.

The Four turned to face him, an impatient and dismissive expression showing on his face. "Yes?" he asked.

With frustration seemingly dripping from his pores, Alexei forcibly regained his composure. "Why are our missiles' having so much difficulty getting through their defenses?" he asked tensely.

In the Four's opinion, this Two was acting irrationally, and judging by the reaction of the other models, he was not alone in his opinion. The other models were watching the interplay between he and the Two, and he paused before answering, giving them time to give him their full attention. "Clearly, the Colonials have circumvented the computer virus which was hidden in the Command Navigation Program. The defensive capabilities Colonial warships are quite robust. With these systems unimpaired our ordinance must pass through several layers of defenses including flack, targeted weapons, decoys, heavy armor, and a surprisingly effective electronic jamming capability. This is why we, the Fours and the Sixes, insisted on developing the CNP hack. Without it, today's actions may have ended very differently." He looked over the group, only the One and Three were not paying attention to his summary. Instead, the two of them remained focused on the battle directing Raiders and missiles towards the enemy. He noticed the apprehensive look on the Five in the room, an obvious sense of dread was starting to show on his brow. "Not too worry though, the Galactica is but one ship, an obsolete relic from the first war, and she is operating with a limited air wing. It may take a few minutes, but she cannot survive against us for long." He looked at the Five again, relieved to see that his brother seemed calmed by his synopsis.

Still aggravated, Alexei stalked back to his station, stiffly sliding his hands into the control basin again. He let go of his consciousness, becoming one with the Basestar, he rejoined his brothers and sisters as they prosecuted the battle. Yes, the battle was harder than expected, but the Battlestar was taking damage, it was losing. Victory would be coming, soon.

An alarm caught his attention. Before he could react, a searing pain seemed to rip through his consciousness. He found himself lying on the floor a moment later, his head throbbed and he winced in pain as he drew his legs up underneath him. A moment later the lighting returned, looking around he saw his brothers and sisters slowly recovering, and on the ceiling a large gash appeared between two grey panels.

"What the hell was that?" the One, now standing angrily demanded.

Alexei stood up, and slightly woozy, slowly returned to his station.

The Four, already connected to the ship, answered, "A direct hit, most likely an armor piercing round. We have sustained moderate damage to sections 1A-17D of the central column. Repairs are underway, I suggest we rotate the ship to protect the affected sections," he reported dryly.

"Agreed, turn the ship. Now, I think we have had enough discussion, focus on the battle," the One barked impatiently, glaring first at the Two and then at the Four. "We have a Battlestar to kill," he finished smugly.

United in purpose the Cylons returned their attention to the battle taking place in front of them, all except for Alexei, who carefully focused on the freighter that he coveted. With grim awareness that the ship would escape, he watched it travel faster and faster from the planet. Any second he knew, and then, in a fantastic blossom of energy and light the freighter disappeared in the wake of the exergonic reaction that marked a successful Faster-Than-Light jump. Sighing quietly, he dropped his head in disappointment, "Don't worry, I'll be back," he promised to himself.

Viper 2563

"J.J., Break Now!" blasted through her headset.

Reacting instantly, Lt. Julie Johnson, spun her Mark II Viper hard to starboard in a desperate attempt to evade one of the three Cylon Raiders on her tail.

"Got him!" her wingman called triumphantly.

"Thanks Terra, nice shooting," she responded breathlessly. Without missing a beat, she twisted her Viper in a complicated loop, turning her plane to meet the remaining Raiders. She pressed her foot on the thruster plate and felt her fighter leap forward; quickly overcoming her target from behind. J.J. squeezed the trigger tightly as she came in range, singing in glee as she watched the enemy ship disintegrate in front of her. Pulling her stick slightly, she effortlessly soared above the remains of the Raider, catching her breath as she cleared the fray.

"That's two you owe me, J.J." the raspy Aerolonian voice of her wingman called out mockingly.

"You forget about the tin-can I blasted off your tail in the first battle?" she called back. Out of immediate danger, the pair of Vipers flew side by side for the moment.

"No. This is the third one that I've clipped off your back."

"Bull-Shit, Terra!" J.J. nudged her plane's stick, so that she was now just a meter off Terra's port wing. She looked directly at the brash pilot, meeting Terra's brown eyes with her own, "Girl, I had that second Raider dead to rights."

An alarm sounded in her helmet calling her attention to the DRADIS screen. Blinking on and off, a scarlet red circle was racing towards the Galactica; in the top corner of the screen a red exclamation mark flashed threateningly. J.J.'s breath caught in her throat and she felt a chill freeze her core as she read the notice.

Duck was already shouting through her helmet, "Terra, J.J. Cylon Nuke inbound, take it out!"

"We got it, Duck" she heard Terra call out confidently.

J.J. pushed her stick down and to the left, her plane heeling on its axis to meet the new threat. Her thruster plate to the floor, she strained against the G-forces as her Viper pulled thru the tight arc. As J.J. came out of the turn, she found the Cylon missile bearing down on her at an impossibly high speed. She pulled the trigger on her cannons, cursing as her first shots tracked behind the target. She adjusted her aim slightly and squeezed the trigger again, watching in horror as a few lucky shots ricocheted off of the warhead. She realized they were too late, the missile was too fast and it was armored. Setting her jaw in determination, she toggled her microphone for the last time, "Take care of the boys, Terra. Love you!" she cried out. Lt. Julie Johnson, devoted follower of the goddess of the hunt, Artemis, pressed the silver pendant she wore around her neck thru the thick flight suit as she turned her Viper towards the missile. She offered a quick prayer to her matron god just before stomping down on the thruster. She choked back her fears and regrets as she steered her plane into the path of the missile, there was no time for that she thought. There wasn't even time for pain as she and her plane were consumed in a brilliant explosion three hundredths of a second later.

Sarah Carpenter, call sign Terra, let her foot off the thruster pedal in shock as she watched her friend blossom into a fiery supernova. "Julie, no!" she screamed in disbelief, tears streaming down her face. "I'm gonna kill every one of you mother-frackers!" she growled in fury.

Viper 6057

Derek cringed as he watched the Viper pilot's signal disappear in the flash of the nuclear detonation. The civilian ships had begun jumping out minutes earlier, but still the Cylons kept pressing the Colonial fliers, slowly whittling their numbers down. He had lost three pilots in the last few minutes alone; the loss of J.J. had made four. Now he just hoped that they could hold out long enough for the jump.

Galactica's com officer called out as if on cue, "Galactica to all Vipers, break off, come on home. Repeat! Come on home!"

Derek checked his DRADIS, noting yet another new wave of Raiders heading towards them from the closing Basestars. "Green-Bean - Primus Squadron, Ace, Duck, and Cat-Bird, we're going to hang back and cover the rest of the squadron's rear. Everyone else get your get your asses back to the Galactica!" Derek watched his pilots turn their planes before he pushed his Viper out towards the Cylon Basestars ahead of them. When he was behind his squadron he turned his plane in a sweeping arc to cover the perimeter.

His headset sputtered to life, "This is Duck, two Raiders in sector 4; I have good tone, Fox 3, Fox 4."

Derek turned his attention to the DRADIS screen, carefully watching the missiles chase down his colleague's prey.

Duck's voice returned a moment later, "Splash two Raiders," he confirmed without emotion.

The four Vipers from his squadron swept back and forth across the sky tracing an imaginary shield between the beleaguered Battlestar and the oncoming Basestars. Nearing the end of his third pass, he turned his plane inward and began to carve a new line. With each pass inside the previous track, the umbrella shrank as the covering Vipers flew closer and closer to their base.

"Ace – Green-Bean; I have a bandit, CBDR at sector 14, turning to intercept."

Derek looked at his DRADIS, scanning the display for the Raider that his wing-man was targeting. He found it a moment later, just entering the far corner of their defense perimeter. "Ace! Let him go, he's too far out!" Derek ordered quickly.

Ace had already turned his Viper, his plane was at full burn rocketing away to meet the incoming threat. "He's not that far off, I can get him."

"Ace, break off your attack now! That's an order!" Derek barked into his microphone.

"Yes, sir," his pilot responded, clearly disappointed.

Derek sighed loudly in frustration; he pulled his Viper in a wide loop bringing him in a position to cover his anxious wing-man. "Ace, that Raider was trying to draw you out. Had you engaged, you would have been jumped by his friends, and that would have opened a gap in our screen." Derek returned his attention to the sky outside his plane. Looking back towards the Galactica he could see the first of his Vipers were already beginning their landing sequence. Derek focused his DRADIS on the Galactica, confirming that most of the planes would be beginning their approach momentarily. "Alright guys, we're done here," he began. "Time to get our birds on the deck."

Derek lifted his foot from the thruster plate, relaxing as the force from his three engines ceased. The sky in front of him was dark and peaceful, but he knew it was an illusion, in reality; dozens of unseen Raiders, with murder on their minds were tearing thru space just in front of him. He confirmed that his squadron mates had made their turn back to the Galactica before flipping his plane down and to the right. With his nose now pointed back to the Galactica he fired the three massive engines behind him, propelling him towards his base.

He was two thirds of the way back to the Galactica when his headset sounded. "All Vipers, this is the CAG! Return home at once! Starbuck, that means you too!" Apollo called out.

Starbuck answered immediately, "Frack that, I'm coming after you!"

Derek immediately fired his reverse thrusters; bringing his plane to a stop and flipping it end over end as he did so. Now pointed in the direction of the distressed pilots, he began slowly moving his Viper towards them, staring at the screen intently as he watched Starbuck pick-off a missile and then a Raider which had targeted Apollo's crippled plane.

"Ace – Green-Bean! Where are you going?" his wing-man called through his speakers.

Derek watched as Ace's plane began to turn from the Galactica and towards him. "Green-Bean to Ace, head back to the Galactica." He looked at the screen again before adding softly, "I have a promise to keep."

"Yes sir. Hope you know what you're doing," Ace responded a moment later, doubt evident in his voice.

Derek brought his plane to a complete stop as he watched Starbuck buzzing around Apollo, picking off any Raider that dared to get too close. He was about to join the attack when the com system sounded.

Commander Adama's gravelly voice emerged through the speakers, "Good morning, Starbuck. What do you hear?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing but the rain, sir!" she answered back as debris from a destroyed Raider pinged off of her Viper.

"Then grab your gun and bring the cat in," he directed her.

"Aye-aye, sir!" she responded instantly.

Confused by the nebulous statement, Derek watched as Starbuck somersaulted her Viper over Apollo's plane and quickly brought it to a stop 100 meters directly in front of him. Suddenly, Starbuck's Viper launched itself directly into Apollo's fighter.

"You are beyond insane!" Lee screamed as her Viper slammed headfirst into his.

Derek watched mortified as the two Vipers, locked together, began wildly careening towards the Galactica. So focused on the bizarre flight of the two fighters; Derek almost missed the two Cylon Raiders approaching the damaged Vipers from behind.

"Oh, no you don't, you bastards," he growled at the display. Hidden by the stealth features of his Viper, Derek gently pressed his thruster plate, his plane smoothly gliding into a covering position below the Cylon Raiders. He waited for the last possible second before actively targeting the enemy planes; the Raiders juked randomly as they detected his DRADIS focus. He smiled maliciously as the DRADIS maintained the lock on the craft, "I have tone, Fox 5, Fox 6." The Raiders were right on top him as he squeezed the firing trigger. Two missiles shot out from underneath his plane, curling upwards before immediately erupting into two brilliant fireballs, destroying the attacking craft. Derek drew a satisfied breath as felt the shockwave from the explosions rock his Viper. A warning tone sounded in his headset, concerned, he began cycling through the diagnostic readings displayed on the center screen. In retrospect, those Raiders had been too close to for a missile shot, he reasoned. He'd caught some of their debris because of his carelessness; debris which had smashed his IFF transponder into a useless slag of metal and plastic. Still it could have been worse, his plane could still fly. Scanning his DRADIS he saw that Apollo and Starbuck had passed him and were continuing to recklessly hurdle towards the Galactica. I need to get on the deck before they crash, he told himself. He checked his DRADIS for the enemy one last time, noting that there was only one Raider approaching them, but he didn't have time to engage it. He spun his Viper back towards the Galactica and depressed the thrusters, looping his plane around Apollo and Starbuck. Now in front of the two damaged fighters, he steered his Viper towards Galactica's port flight pod and set his plane in the proper glide path for what was sure to be a harrowing landing.

Battlestar Galactica - Port Flight Pod Turret 5

John had never felt as tired as he did now. His eyes burned, his head pounded, his ears rang, his fingers were cramped, and his back ached, every part of his body begged for relief, but he couldn't stop. The enemy was still coming. An alarm sounded through his headset; quickly refocusing, he scanned the DRADIS screen while simultaneously tracking his gun towards the incoming target. It was a missile, and it was already close. He squeezed the trigger and held it tight, laying down a thick line of fire at the small target. "Frack!" he cursed as he watched his tracers sail high and behind the warhead. A moment later he felt the ship shake as the missile impacted on the side of the main hull. He didn't know how many enemy fighter and missiles he had shot down, but he did know how many he missed, and this last missile made eight.

He cursed as the alarm sounded again, looking down he saw a Raider approaching the ship from behind him. Manhandling the controls, John quickly aimed in on the approaching target, his gun spinning up and to the left at a dizzying speed. He gritted his teeth as he lined the Raider up for a killing shot, his finger tensing. Suddenly, the ship shuddered violently, slowly at first; he began to be pulled to the right.

"What the frack was that?!" he yelled out in surprise. John caught his breath, but was still unnerved as he felt the continuing pull.

"Pancake – Bingo, were okay. That's the flight pods retracting. Get ready for the jump!" his C.O. called out quickly.

Still recovering, John searched his DRADIS for the Raider that he had been about to fire upon. He found three targets instead; he aimed in on the middle target first, it was coming in fast and nearly out of control. He took his time as he zeroed in on the unwieldy attacker, allowing himself to adjust as the flight pod continued its slide to the right. He noticed that this fighter was bigger than any of the Raiders that he had engaged previously, curious, he took a second to scan the target again. Too his surprise, the target flashed white and was identified as two Vipers that appeared to be stuck together. Shaking his head in confusion, he switched his attention to the closest target; its DRADIS return was so small that he almost lost it in the few seconds he spent studying the two Vipers moments earlier. It was coming straight in towards the flight pod, he quickly checked for a transponder I.D., not seeing one, he tightened his fingers around the firing control before taking a steadying breath. His alarm sounded again breaking his attention, suddenly; the track on the third fighter had changed. The DRADIS icon had switched to the red coloration for an enemy combatant, next to it a red exclamation point blinked ominously. "Radiological Alarm, Raider sector 6!" erupted through his headset. "All Gunners, take that Raider out!" Bingo yelled fearfully.

Acting on instinct, Pancake spun the gun up and to the right, his fingers clenching the trigger tightly as he bore down on it. He caught his breath as the gun came to a stop; he surveyed the empty void in front of him, his eyes just catching the last remnants of the Raider's fiery explosion which had already been snuffed out.

"Splash priority Raider," Bingo called out, "Well done, Pancake."

Seeing that his DRADIS was clear for the moment, John hung his head in exhaustion and took a deep self-assuring breath. He sat there a few moments, his hands lying limply in his lap. "Frack," he quietly breathed out, emotionally and physically spent.

Viper 6057 – Approaching Port Flight Pod.

Derek kept a steady eye on the navigational markers as his Viper sped towards the Galactica's port flight pod. His heart practically beating through his chest, Derek slowed his breathing in an attempt to calm his already frayed nerves. This would be his first live combat landing. The Admiralty considered them too dangerous and had restricted training to simulators only.

"Oh shit," Derek croaked, as he watched the port flight pod methodically retract in front of him. Knowing that he had to land his Viper before the pod closed on him, he pushed on the throttle plate and his plane quickly accelerated well above the safe approach speed for a normal landing. He adjusted the yaw slightly on his Viper as he approached the slowly contracting landing bay. He fixed his eyes on the landing signals, frantically adjusting the pitch as he barreled towards the landing strip. One last check of his instruments and he was on top of the strobing deck markers, his mind screaming, 'Too fast, too fast!' In the blink of an eye, he crossed the threshold into the landing pod, his body shooting forward as he fired the reverse thrusters in a panicked attempt to slow his plane down. Below him, Vipers were strewn about the deck randomly; several were lying on their sides. He passed above them, searching for a clear space to land. "There!" he yelled finding a relatively open area. He wrestled his plane towards the landing spot, nearly losing control as he violently rolled to the left, the nose diving down towards the deck. At the last second, his ventral thrusters fired, mostly righting his plane. Derek's Viper slammed to the deck hard and he grunted loudly as his head bounced off the roof of his canopy. He sat motionless as he caught his breath. He began to shut down the various systems on his Viper. He was distracted; Starbuck and Apollo hadn't yet landed, and he was beginning to worry that they wouldn't make it. He glanced back warily, quickly scanning the rapidly closing opening for the two pilots he had been trying to protect. With no sign of them, he rechecked his instruments, ensuring that his plane was powered down. Finally complete, he toggled his com system one last time, "Viper 6057 to Control, skids down, mag-locks secure," he called out wearily.

"Control to all pilots, inbound Vipers, brace for impact! Brace for impact!"

Derek turned his head as far back as he could, straining to find the wayward planes. They appeared behind him, he watched petrified as the rampant Vipers, conjoined by the powerful on board electromagnets, screamed by just above them. He knew immediately that they were going too fast, and if they didn't slow down they would crash into the now closed forward end of the flight pod. Suddenly, their dorsal thrusters firing, the Vipers slammed down to the deck as if pushed from above. His heart in his throat, Derek watched, as the two Vipers, seemingly glued together, slid wildly along the length of the landing strip before finally coming to an abrupt stop as they crashed into the thick bulkhead which sealed the flight pod from space.

"This is Starbuck, were down!" she yelled in both relief and excitement.

Derek closed his eyes in relief and relaxed into his shoulder harness, he swallowed a small amount of blood and saliva. He sat there for a moment, before reaching for the picture of his family mounted on the console in front of him. Holding it in front of him, he began to weep, "I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry I couldn't save you." He bowed his head down, his helmet pressing onto the picture.