Beautiful in Her Armour 10/?
BSG Fic: Beautiful in Her Armour
Summary: Where do we go from here?
Rated: K
Spoilers: up 'til Revelations
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing. They belong to Ron Moore and co. and most especially to MM, EJO and the rest of the crew, who breathe life into them.
Bill feels the world drop out from under him at Saul’s words. His knees buckle and it’s all he can do to stay upright, his white knuckled grip on the horn threatens to break it in two and he has to purposely unclench his grip to relieve the strain on his aching fingers. All the while, Saul’s voice echoes in his head, telling him what he doesn’t want to hear, she's gone, she's gone, she's gone, she's gone, she's gone.
He doesn’t believe it, he can’t believe it. He always thought he’d feel her passing, that there would be a profound difference in the world if she weren’t in it, that maybe the stars would blink out one by one or more likely his own heart would stop beating as well, since she - the keeper of it - was no more. But he doesn’t feel that, doesn’t feel any different, he’s still standing upright in the middle of CIC, still breathing, so she must be too. He clings to that, uses it to center himself and the world springs back into focus.
"Saul, tell me what’s going on," he barks into the mouthpiece, "make sense man!" He almost crashes his fist into the console before him but the sight of the bandage already wrapped around his knuckles, the thought of Laura doing herself the same damage, the sight of blood and bruises adorning her fair skin, stops him.
"They took her, put her on a Raptor, the child too, they're in the flight pod."
He whirls around, shouts his command. "Seal the frakking flight pod hatch! Nothing leaves!" Secure in the knowledge his crew will obey without question, he turns his attention back to Saul, strives to modulate his tone so the rest of the crew won’t hear the concern in his voice. “Is the President alright Saul?”
At the mention of her title, a ripple goes through CIC and he realizes they haven’t been privy to the whole conversation, hadn’t realized their President is aboard the shuttle they’re currently trying to contain in the flight pod.
“She’s fine,” Saul assures him. “As far as I could tell, they didn’t harm her.”
“Good.” Something in him unclenches. “What about…”
It’s as far as he gets inquiring after his son’s health before Gaeta’s voice cuts in. "Too late, Sir," he reports. "The Raptor squeezed through." He sounds as calm and collected as ever, but sweat beads his forehead and his hands shake on his board as he adds, "Baseships are firing missiles, Sir, aiming at the President’s Raptor. The Rebel Baseship is moving to intercept."
“Get us between that Raptor and those missiles,” he shouts. “Dee! Get on the horn with Starbuck, tell her to take them out, keep that Raptor safe!”
As the Galactica moves to shield the lone Raptor from the missiles streaking towards it, he hears Starbuck calmly instruct her pilots to intercept, hears whoops and cheers as missiles are diverted and taken out, then screams of fear, cries of anguish as one of the Vipers is hit, then another. A tremor goes through his ship as a missile scrapes across the bow, and then a violent lurch throws him against the command board as they take a direct hit. He braces himself amidst the chaos, swerves his gaze around CIC and calls for a damage report.
“Admiral! The President’s Raptor is gone from DRADIS, Sir!” Gaeta shouts over the din.
Again, his heart lurches in his chest, his breath stops. “Were they hit? Did they jump?”
“Too much interference to tell.”
“Sift through it, get me an answer!”
He clings to the same principle as before. He’d know it if she were really gone from this world, wouldn’t he? He would feel her absence the way Gaeta no doubt still feels his missing limb, only he wouldn’t be able to go on like Gaeta does. How do you go on when what’s missing is your heart?
He only starts breathing when Gaeta confirms it. “They reappeared on DRADIS, Sir. They appear to be heading for Earth.”
The collective sigh of relief that goes through CIC both startles and gladdens him, but there’s no time. “How about those missiles?”
“Taken out, Sir.”
“Saul, what about Lee and Helo?”
“They’re with Cottle now, doesn’t look good.”
“If anyone can help them it’s him. Get back up here.”
“On my way.”
Caught between conflicting exigencies, for the first time in his life, Bill doesn’t know what to do. His every instinct tells him to jump in a Raptor and go after Laura, but his duty to the fleet demands he stay at his post to defend what the two of them have fought so hard to rescue from the brink of extinction. Another part pulls him towards Life Station, where his son is struggling for his life. Dee’s voice once again cuts through his conflicting emotions to bring him to the reality of the moment. “Sir, I have Vice President Zarek on the line, demanding to speak to the President and the Rebel Baseship is asking to speak to you.”
“Tell Zarek the President is unable to come to the phone just now.” The frakking weasel terrorist rat bastard would call at a time like this, wouldn’t he? Always had a nose for opportunity and a propensity towards stirring up trouble; let him wait. “Put the Rebels through.”
The same Six as before, by the sound of it, speaks without preamble. “Admiral, I don’t know what your game is but Cavil and his party are not going to take kindly to it after they told you to stand down.”
“Not my choice, believe me.” Gambling on the particular importance the Sixes, Sharons and Leobens have placed on the child in the past, he adds, “Someone took President Roslin and Hera hostage, they managed to get off the ship and jumped to Earth.”
“Roslin and Hera both were on that Raptor that was being fired upon?” He can hear the consternation in her voice, senses it has as much to do with Laura being on that Raptor than it has to do with Hera.
“Yes,” he replies, wanting to pursue it further. He doesn’t get the chance, a motion across CIC attracts his attentions and he glances over to Dee as the young communications officer gestures at him, then mouths at him that Cavil is hailing them. “Hold on, Cavil is on the other line,” he tells the Six. “Stay on the horn.”
“Adama!” Cavil sounds livid. “What the hell are you playing at? I’m standing on a blasted shit hole of a planet even worse than New Caprica, this cannot be Earth!”
“Not as advertised, huh?” He cannot help but feel a small surge of satisfaction at Cavil’s rattled tone.
After a long moment, it’s one of the Dorals who continues the conversation. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Admiral. Laugh hard, it’s the last time you will. This is the end of the line, once and for all, for you and your whole frakking species.”
The soft click when the Doral ends their connection reverberates through him with the eerie finality of a funeral knell.
“Jump, Admiral. Get out of here,” the Six urges.
“What?”
“End of line, they’re going to attack. Jump and we’ll hold them off as long as we can.”
“We stand together," he says, taken aback by her offer.
There’s a beat of silence on the other end. “Then stand together we will,” she slowly responds, sounding as surprised as he feels. “Good hunting, Admiral.”
Breaking the connection, he turns to his people, looks around CIC, all those familiar faces, all those hours spent here with his crew, the dangers they’ve faced, it all crowds around him, memories of battles fought, victory and defeat, standing here with Laura, their family surrounding when they first gained Earth and still thought they’d found their safe haven. He finds an odd kind of comfort in knowing they’ll be here for the endgame.
“We’ve fled for our lives for four years,” he says, his voice strong and full of conviction even if he doesn’t feel all that convinced of a positive outcome himself; he’ll lie for his crew, he’ll give them hope like he’s done countless times before. “We’ve found what we set out to find and even though it’s not what we hoped, we will continue, life will find a way. Along the way, we’ve sacrificed much, fought many battles. This is where we stop running, this is where we win the war, this is where we prevail.”
Without hesitation, they all jump to attention. “So say we all.”
“Jump the fleet to the emergency coordinates, I don’t want them caught in the crossfire, and get me Starbuck on the line.”
He puts his hands on the console in front of him while he watches his orders being carried out. With all that’s going on, with the end of all things almost upon them, still, all he can think about is Laura, down there alone and unprotected, all he can hear is her voice, telling him the war is over and they’ve lost, telling him they should run. Not this time, love, he thinks, this time we fight.
He’s given the fleet what chance he can by jumping them away, there are still a few ships with weapons to protect them, they may yet survive, but he’s a realist. Despite his rousing speech, he knows the best they can hope for against odds such as these, is that he’ll be able to take down what’s left of the Cylon Basestars with him. He’s not about to jump away with the rest of the fleet though, his people are still down there, and if he succeeds in his mission, he’ll at least have bought them a fighting chance to rejoin the fleet.
Most of all though, his thoughts stray to his love, his President.
Laura Roslin is down there, Earth is down there, what hope humanity still has is down there.
“The Fleet’s jumped away, Sir. Cylon Raiders are launching.”
“Belay the guns until they’re in battery range.”
As he watches DRADIS go red as it’s swarmed with squadron after squadron of Cylon Raiders, Kara’s voice comes through. “Time to kick some Cylon ass, Admiral?”
“One final time, Starbuck.”
“Then we better make it count.”
“What do you hear, Starbuck?”
“Nothing but the rain, Sir.”
He chokes on it. “Go get ‘m, Starbuck,” he says, unable to finish their customary banter, unable to say goodbye.
He hangs up on her, knowing he’s just sent the daughter of his heart out to lead her pilots to almost certain death. He swallows back his grief, looks around CIC and sees all his people looking back at him expectantly. Behind him, he hears someone enter and knows it is Saul. He turns around and nods at him.
“Good to have you here, old friend.”
“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he says, then moves away towards the tactical station to issue orders to his crew. “Weapons grid to full power. Stand by for enemy suppression barrage.” Saul segues into battle mode as he’s done countless times before, when he was still human and the Cylons were still Cylons and the lines were clearly drawn. Bill can’t help but feel better knowing his friend of close to thirty years is beside him as he faces his final battle.
“Cylon fighters almost within range, closing at one-two-zero carom four-eight.” Gaeta reports.
“Enemy suppression fire, all batteries execute,” Bill barks.
Slowly, DRADIS is cleared of scores of the red dots indicating Cylon fighters. “Perimeter secured, Admiral.”
“Launch Vipers, launch everything we’ve got. I want anything and everything that flies in the air.”
“Vipers clear to launch.” Dee repeats into her headset and Vipers swarm from the launch tubes to join Kara’s CAP. Green dots square off against the red dots on DRADIS, but despite the earlier barrage, the green dots are still grossly outnumbered. “Rebel Baseship has launched fighters, they’re lining up with ours.
“Signal Vipers engage fighters only, leave Basestars to us.”
Starbucks voice comes over the speakers. “Let’s give ‘m hell people. Engage fighters, but watch for Raiders with identifiers painted on, they’re friendlies.” The sound of her guns is heard over the com and then she whoops, a sound almost like the old Starbuck. “That’s two splattered. Now do not let them get a lock on you and stay out of Galactica’s firing solution, for frak’s sake, you do not want to get caught in friendly fire.”
With the pilots on speaker, the gist of the battle soon becomes clear, as he knew it would. They are taking heavy casualties, beating back the Raiders but more keep streaming from the six enemy Baseships.
“Redwing, watch your six, you’ve got incoming.” Hotdog yells and then there’s a terrified scream and a deafening explosion and Kara, shouting for Hotdog to get his act together or he’ll be next.
He tunes out the battle raging outside, knowing that it’s out of his hands, trusting her with everything he’s got, trusting her because of everything she’s become.
“Target ventral turrets at Baseships,” he commands, “salvo fire, hit them along the dorsal area.”
Saul stands beside him, he can feel the tension coming off of him in waves, and he briefly wonders what it’s like for him, siding with the humans against his own kind. When he throws a look in Saul’s direction, his expression is as intent as ever, it gives nothing away. Bill is suddenly reminded of the fact Caprica is still down planet side as well, it’s not just Laura in peril down below. Saul has as much of a stake in what happens on Earth as he has. Caprica and their unborn baby are down there, Tyrol and Sam and Tory, Saul’s fellow final fivers are down below too. Bill shakes it off, no time for navel gazing in the midst of battle.
“We’ve got a direct hit, one Basestar down,” Gaeta cheers. “The Rebel Baseship took another one out.”
“Acquire next target, fire when ready.”
“We’ve got incoming, they’re firing nukes.”
“Evasive maneuvers,” Saul growls.
“Got one locked, bearing one-zero-four carom three-nine
“Brace for impact.”
The nuclear strike rocks his ship violently, sets off smaller and larger explosions all throughout CIC. From out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dee being flung into the bank of monitors behind her, Gaeta smashing into his board and sliding down to the floor. They both crawl back to their seats, retake their positions as Saul makes for the damage control station.
Over the speakers he hears Hotdog scream, “Got caught in the blast, nav is down, no power, frak me!” A Raider zeros in on him and the little green dot representing his Viper disappears from DRADIS and still more fighters swarm from the remaining Baseships, Heavy Raiders following in their wake. They break through the cordon of Vipers, heading for the Galactica.
“We’ve lost maneuvering thrusters,” Saul reports back from damage control, “took severe damage to port. Explosive decompressions all along the hull.”
That’s it, he thinks, this is the end, can’t take much more punishment before the old girl gives up the ghost. I’m sorry Laura, sorry I couldn’t protect you, sorry that in the end it’s me who will go first, isn’t irony a bitch, huh?
As if in response, it’s suddenly almost as if he can hear her voice in his head. In her most Presidential tone, but with a soft undercurrent of the woman underneath, she’s telling him it is okay, he’s done all he can do, this is not the end, they’ll make it through. He can feel her beside him, actually feels the heat and solidity of her body leaning into him, feels the soft, steady weight of her hand on his arm, smells her delicate perfume, something flowery but spicy too he’s never been able to identify. Her fierce presence soothes him, steadies him as he gives his final order.
“Alright, point her towards those Base ships and then get into the escape pods. It’s been an honor people.”
“Bill?”
“No buts, Saul. We’re…”
“Something’s happening.”
When he swivels his gaze towards Saul, his friend’s face is going through such paroxysms of joy and relief as he’s never seen on that usually gruff, stoic exterior. It’s as if he’s conducting an entirely private inner dialogue where joy and relief are quickly followed by a catalogue of jumbled emotions Bill has a hard time classifying. There’s a fierce look of vindication, and then fury, surprise, a soft look almost like love, and then stark, utter terror.
He feels it too, something is different, and something has changed.
“Admiral, are you seeing this? What the hell is going on?” Kara’s voice comes over the speaker just as Saul looks up, looks him square in the face. Something glints in the depths of his one remaining eye, something deep and dark and red, it’s there and gone and then it’s just Saul, grabbing his shoulder, pushing him towards the exit.
”Go! Battle’s done. Get the frak down to Earth, she needs you.”
.