Chapter 81 Three Down

Three trips down—and damn it all—Lee was right about the nausea!

As Kara reeled away from the decontamination area, she fought to keep the rising bile from spewing forth. She refused to lose it here in front of the whole deck gang! Leaning with her head tilted back against the walls of the hanger bay, she waited for her rebellious stomach to settle, only to find that the usually comforting vibrations of Galactica's engines just increased her wooziness.

"Damn Lee," she muttered and felt just a little bit better even though she knew it wasn't fair to blame him. The corners of her mouth twitched as her thoughts turned self-mocking. Some how it had to be Lee's fault for her succumbing to the predicted queasiness, right? And, here usually when he made a girl's stomach quiver, it was over his nicely cut form. Mentally dwelling on the image she'd glimpsed of him in the showers just this morning, the nausea receded slightly and she pushed away from the support of the wall.

She braced her legs as a wave of weakness made the decking feel as if it were sand shifting beneath her boots. Three slow breaths and the sensation passed.

So frakkin' tired…and I'm startin' to see thing.

Kara squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing at them with a forefinger and thumb as she recalled the way something kept pulling at the edge of her vision on each of the runs. Considering how difficult it was to make out anything within the heaving confluence that was the radiation field, she shouldn't be surprised, but it was distracting as hell. Were the others experiencing the same thing, she dully wondered?

People see mirages in the desert, right? Tricks of the light?

Blinking against a building headache, Kara hoped the answer was that simple. Yet…she had this foreboding that she couldn't quite shrug off. The oracle's prediction that Leoben was again coming for her echoed silently off the walls and ramped up the feeling of unease she'd been experiencing since their first jump to the algae planet.

Swallowing hard, as much to control the apprehension as her unhappy stomach, Kara watched as Chopper stumbled out next from the decon section. The man immediately squatted with his head between his knees, gasping as he ran a hand over his bald head, sending beads of sweat trailing down his neck. He looked nearly as wiped as the days they'd spent jumping every thirty-three minutes. And it didn't take a mirror for Kara to know she probably appeared as ragged. Glancing around, she saw that most of the other pilots were also showing the early signs of radiation exposure.

And they still had two runs yet to make.

Kara rolled her wrist over to get a inspect her rad badge. The decon team was checking everyone's as they were processed, but she'd been too distracted with the trying not to vomit to look at hers before. Completely black meant that the wearer had reached her allowed exposure limit. And if it turned red… Well, Cottle had come down to the flight deck before the first launch to give everyone an anti-radiation injection and a scathing lecture on what it meant if that happened. Hers was about halfway shaded. Should be good for the remaining two jumps, she decided.

After telling her stomach to shut up and stop tossing, Kara headed over to give Chopper a hand up. A bolstering cuff to his heavily-tattooed arm earned her a wane grin in response. Looking past him, Kara saw Lee helping support Racetrack where she was bent over, heaving what little her stomach could find to eject.

Watching him, Kara propped her hands on her hips, arms feeling too heavy to hang unsupported at her side any longer. Recalling what Lee had said about pilot discretion, she knew she'd have no choice before the next run; she was going to have to buckle under and take the stims—and she wasn't any more enthralled with the idea than Kat had been. And, regardless of what the Doc insisted, they always gave her the jitters.

When her gaze swept the hanger bay again, she saw that everyone was finally out of decon and in various states of collapse as Galactica began the process to dispatch her current passengers off to their waiting ships. In a couple of hours it would be time to make the return jump to load up the next set of civilians and repeat the whole thing.

Drawing on a reserve of energy from she didn't know where, Kara snagged some bottles from a passing medic and slowly made her own rounds among her fellow pilots. Like Lee, she insisted each hydrate and even offered a bawdry comment in encouragement.

It hurt.

It hurt knowing that some of the people she was speaking with might not be here a month from now. Hell, maybe not even tomorrow, she corrected herself. Anything could happen at any moment. Hadn't that stupid drone accident early on proved that? And Kara knew they'd gotten lucky in finding a source of food…and a way to it. So far they've always seemed to find whatever they needed in just the nick of time. But how long could that luck hold?

Laura was sure they were on the path to Earth. The question at this point wasn't if they'd ever find it, but if there'd be enough Colonials left to have been worth the effort in the first place?

Jouster's sly grin abruptly blurred before her mind's eye and Kara bit her lip, remembering again the sharp lance of pain on hearing Apollo call out the pilot's death. He might have been their most recent casualty when his Viper collided with a Cylon Raider in their last fight, but he certainly wouldn't be their last.

She was so tired of losing people. Tired of feeling helpless as her friends where winnowed away by one thing or another. Duck and Nora's loss on New Caprica came to mind and Kara huffed a breath at the renewed sense of grief.

Too many deaths.

With no end in sight.

Kara swiveled away from her scattered fellow pilots and stalked to the Raptor she'd been assigned. Climbing into the shuttle's interior, she decided to do what she could…as little as that might be.

[ I I I I I ]

Kat looked up and saw the familiar figure watching her from the flight deck catwalk.

"Bastard," she muttered, tearing off the neck and wrist cuffs and tossing them beside her Raptor, ready for the fourth trip.

Anger gave her the energy to clamber up the ladder and shove Enzo back along the walkway towards the hatch. Though he didn't resist, Kat couldn't help giving him another push to hurry him along. When he paused at the closed door she slid ahead, but whipped around as he tried to explain.

"Just checkin' out the ship."

"It's off limits, frakker. You wanna get brigged?" she hissed.

"Chill, Sasha, I—"

"Don't call me that!" she bit out.

After giving him a fierce look, she spun, pushing through the hatch with Enzo right behind. He sensibly remained quiet as she escorted him back to the area set aside for the civilian passengers. But once there, Enzo was the one to seize Kat's arm and shift them into a small alcove.

"You don't want me roaming? Then get me something to eat," he said. As Kat tried to shift by him, Enzo blocked her path. "Not this time. No taking off without me."

Kat knew he was alluding to her leaving their tiny apartment three days before the Cylon attack, taking off after catching him banging one of the girls that hung around hoping for free samples. It wasn't the first time he'd cheated on her; though she'd sworn that it was the last. Circumstances had favored her the following few days, first providing her with an opportunity to assume a dead woman's identity—and then to be on a system-to-system transport at the exact time that the Cylons launched their invasion.

Enzo must have had similar luck. What were the odds that he'd not only survived the destruction of the Colonies, but all that had happened since to finally end up on Galactica? But, then again, Enzo always had had a knack of making things go his way. She suspected that he was already planning beyond his present goal of a steady diet.

When he said, "I've been thinkin' bout us," her concern seemed justified. Though he moved closer, he didn't try to touch her this time. "We made a good team before. And I'm thinkin' that Galactica would suit me just fine as a new base of operations. It's a battlestar, right? Central Command for my procurement ops," he chuckled, obviously pleased at his turn of phrase.

Kat knew where he was going with this and wanted nothing to do with it. As she tried to pass again, his arms came forward, hands braced against the wall on each side, boxing her in.

"We're not done." He leaned in. "You, my little cat," he smirked as her head jerked up, "ya, I know your…callsign? That's it, isn't it? Cat? It's what all your bigshot military friends call you, right?"

"Look, Enzo, I don't—"

"No, you don't. I do. I say what you do now." He pressed forward, pinning her to the wall and dropping his head to the side of hers. "You follow my orders now or I find the nearest guy in uniform. Come on, you're use to taking orders. Just think of me as your new Sarge. No… Maybe Captain. Definitely Captain sounds better." He nuzzled her hair, then said, "You can call me Captain Enzo."

She felt sickened, not sure how she ever thought that she loved this guy.

Jabbing her fingers upward, she speared him in both armpits, driving him away.

"Back off!"

"Frakkin' hey!" he swore, hands tucked under his arms massaging the pressure points she'd hit. "Stop being such a bitch."

"I'm not your cat or bitch or whatever. Got it."

"No. You're the one not getting it. You got one choice here, Sasha. My way or see exactly what they do with imposters. I remember you didn't enjoy those three days in juvie hall. And remember who got you out? I always had your back. Remember that?" Kat had stepped past him, intent on bolting, but froze at his words.

A shudder rode down her back. Sasha had spent less than seventy-two hours in the lockup facility for minors on Caprica. But the experience had convinced her she'd never let it happen again. Having no escape from guards that viewed the teenagers as personal toys had been an education. She hadn't actually been assaulted herself, but had lain awake each of her two nights there, hearing the sounds coming from other cells in her section. It had only been a matter of time before her turn, she had figured.

And Enzo was right. She owed him for getting her turned loose. He'd bribed someone, and hadn't let her forget in the following weeks what her getting caught had cost them.

Didn't she still owe him? And if she wanted to avoid a one-way trip to the Astral Queen, did she even have a choice?

As the compression of Galactica's FTL jump struck her, the fatigue and queasiness pressed in again. In a few hours from now she'd have to climb back in the Raptor and face the storm of the radiation field. She just didn't have the energy to deal with Enzo right now.

Shoulders slumping, Kat turned back to face him.

"I can't talk now. After… After we get the jumps done. Get some food. We can talk then, ok?"

His dark head tilted. "You really don't have any, do you?"

"That's what I've been telling you, frakker," she said, too weary for any proper heat in her words.

"Fine. Later." He pointed at her then. "But don't think I'm just gonna go away. I found me a spot in that Dogsville place. So, I'll be here after you shuttle off all the others," he warned, then slid his hands into his pockets and strolled casually way.

Kat watched him disappear around a corner and then hugged herself. She knew she'd have to face the dilemma he presented, but it looked like she had a reprieve…at least for now.

Heading back to the hanger bay, Kat reminded herself that regardless of what happened afterwards, right now she was a Colonial Captain and one of the top Viper pilots the fleet had left.

It was enough to keep her moving forward.