Fic: "Back to Earth" (7/8)
Title: Back to Earth
Pairings: Helo/Gaeta, Helo/Sharon. Can be read with the occasional Gaeta/Baltar undertones.
Genre: It's a gen story overall but with some slash and het b-plot. So it's kind of a gen hybrid.
Rating: PG-13 for some sex, PTSD, bad language in the face of danger and, ya know, people killing robots.
Characters: Gaeta, Helo and Athena (minor characters are Anders, Dualla, Zarek and Hot Dog as well as some Eights and Sixes)
Spoilers: up to 4.10
Beta: done by ebuchala - thank you again. :)
Summary: The Cylons find the fleet just when all high-ranking personnel is off ship. Galactica's B-Team has to execute a rescue mission but Gaeta is depressed, Helo feels guilty, something's going on with Sharon, and everybody knows the plan is suicide anyway.
Chapter summary: The mission is on and everything is up to Sam.
Author's Note: I'm very sorry this has taken me so long! I don't usually need so much time to write a story. This one turned out to be harder to write than I anticipated and also, real life got in the way of things. However, I'm done and I'll upload the last chapter soon.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6
Helo arrived at the landing deck two minutes too late. Muttering a curse under his breath, he paused in the doorway, seeing Figurski shooing his deckhands off the raptor bay while the viper pilots prepared for launch. Sharon and Skulls were gone already.
No matter what, he hadn’t wanted Sharon to leave without at least saying goodbye. They might all die. He might never see her again. He didn’t know what he would have said but a stupid fight wouldn’t keep him from wishing his wife luck.
Noticing him, Figurski looked him an excuse as if afraid he’d be blamed, and Helo turned away, hardening his face. This couldn’t have been the last he saw of Sharon. It just couldn’t be. They’d just have to survive.
“Well,” Skulls said, his eyes trained on his console in a show of calm practice. “What should we call you? You can hardly go by Eight all the time. That’s not a name.”
“I don’t know. I don’t have a name yet,” the Eight answered from the back of the raptor. “I haven’t decided on one.”
Sharon snorted, maneuvering the raptor away from Galactica to give them some space for the jump. The coordinates had been transferred already, their own position set some hundred miles away from Galactica, so they wouldn’t end up in the center of the battle. She noticed she could see the Pelida hovering portside Galactica from here, ready to fly down to Earth to execute the rescue. Racetrack was in command of that, who’d never been in command of anything in her life, but Racetrack’s skills were the last thing to worry Sharon.
Opening a comm link, she wondered if Helo would hear her in the CIC. He hadn’t even shown up before launch. Gods, she’d really frakked that one up. “Galactica, this is Athena. Launch prep is complete. We’re waiting for the mission go.”
The wireless cracked. Dualla’s voice confirmed, telling her to hold the position.
So far, so good.
“Alright,” Skulls said, unperturbed. “But we have to call you something. How would you feel about ‘Doe Eye’?”
The Eight chuckled. Sharon reached out and hit his shoulder without even looking up.
“Or what about...” He paused to check a read-out. “...‘Sharon the third but the better and greater’? Also cuter of course but maybe that’s just me.”
“You’re such an idiot, Skulls,” Sharon said.
Skulls grinned. “Just trying to relieve the tension. It’s a nice change of mood from the suicide mission and us probably dying.”
Sharon rolled her eyes.
They’d brought in a Six to assist him. Sam gave her a nervous look, trying to figure out if he’d seen her before but it was impossible to tell. This one was cool and calm, surveying the CIC with what looked like detached interest. She wouldn’t be doing anything, of course, except making sure that he didn’t bail out.
Unfortunately for the fleet, that wasn’t an option.
Restlessly, Sam stepped aside to let Hoshi pass, who didn’t even pause to look at him. Hoshi was serving as watch officer today, Sam thought, although it seemed to be complicated. He’d never had a chance to learn anything about the works of the CIC so he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on at each station. The whole room was buzzing with activity, people hurrying around, knowing exactly what to do. The atmosphere was the same as it would be down on the landing deck now, anxiety mixed with hyper-awareness, the pre-mission adrenaline kicking in for everybody slowly. It wasn’t that different from the air wing up here, just quieter and more restrained. The ensign at the console next to Sam was sweating, although the CIC was cool. Dualla looked more focused than could possibly be real.
“You will fair well,” the Six said, unexpectedly.
Sam gave her a sour look. “How’d you figure that?”
“You are one of the Final Five.” She narrowed her eyes. “If not you, nobody can save us.”
And wasn’t that just nice and reassuring.
Sam contemplated answering to that, but all answers would sound like he thought he belonged here. Sam settled for a nod, trying not to feel nauseated. He wished he were down on the landing deck. He didn’t share Kara’s love for flying but flying would be something he was good at, something to occupy his mind, and both couldn’t be said about his current situation.
He tried to not look at the fiber-glass cable the Six was holding at the ready, searching the room instead.
Turning just in time, he saw Captain Kelly pausing in the doorway. He was wearing his uniform.
Well I’ll be damned, Sam thought. Last he knew, the LSO had still been in the brig. Nearby, people were looking up as well, startled. Rumor had it that Adama hadn’t been inclined to let Kelly go free, thinking of discharging him into the civilian fleet, since Kelly hadn’t shown the slightest bit of remorse over killing that lawyer. But here the captain was, looking like he was searching for a sign. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found one because he smoothed his uniform with new determination and headed for the command table.
“Commander,” he said, saluting. Helo returned the gesture smoothly.
“Welcome back, Captain. Tactical is yours.”
“Sir,” Kelly said. “May I just say how much I appreciate...”
“No need for that, Captain,” Helo said. “I can’t have you waste time in the brig when we need everybody up here. The admiral will have to rule on your... political statement later.”
“Sure wasn’t hard to understand the sentiment,” Gaeta said idly, stepping up to the command table. Kelly shot him a smile, taking a clipboard from Hoshi and starting to confer with the watch officer quietly. Gaeta however was still ignoring Sam and for once he was thankful for that.
The fiber-glass cable and the Six were bad enough.
Sam still didn’t have the slightest clue how you transmitted a Cylon virus.
The LSO’s voice was ringing through the speaker, telling all pilots to prepare to jump. Hot Dog involuntarily reached for his viper’s control panel to hold onto something. Just a second later, the uncomfortable sensation of jumping shuddered through his spine, leaving him feeling shaky. It never had before.
All viper pilots were ready to launch and he held position one in viper launch tube one, the position of the CAG.
I’m already dead, Hot Dog reminded himself, the way he’d learned as a nugget. The LSO was reporting in again. The pilot’s hand was on the control stick now, clenching and unclenching. I’m already dead. I’m not afraid. I don’t have to worry. Sure not about getting the nuggets to land after this. He had no clue how you got untrained nuggets to perform a combat landing for the first time. They hadn’t gotten around to teaching them. Or about mission reports.
Now there was a positive thought.
Hot Dog swallowed. He could do this. He had to. He could lead this CAP and get everyone through this alive, at least up to the point where he died, because he would, and Redwing could take over after him. He was already dead. He could tell himself that.
Here goes, Hot Dog thought when the LSO gave the go and the rush of acceleration burned the rest of the world around him away, spitting him out into the black a second later, with his wingman at his side and his team in his back, and that really bad taste in his mouth.
“Alright,” Skulls said tersely, his fingers dancing over his keypad in the corner of her eye. “There are... frak, there are many, Sharon. There are basestars back in orbit that aren’t even heating up their engines. I think it’ll be a while before those even think of getting involved. I say we tackle one of them. Fast.”
“Agreed. There, that one. Transferring the coordinates.” Mouth dry, Sharon concentrated on flying them around the spectacular burst of battle erupting in the distance. Galactica had jumped just one second after them, spitting out a salve of vipers, opening fire even before that. Kelly was working with one of their last torpedo reserves, she knew. It was vicious, none of the vipers holding back. It was hopeless.
Earth was gleaming proudly in front of them, the silhouette of a basestar hanging in orbit right there, black against luminous Caprican blue. Automatically, Sharon scanned the ship with her eyes, searching for a way to decide if she knew it but no, they all still looked exactly alike.
Something exploded just portside but Sharon refused to look around. Her hands felt clammy by now, her heart pounding steadily. That was why she wasn’t a viper pilot. She’d never relished in the fight like Starbuck, just prayed that she wouldn’t panic and that she’d make it out alive.
Having family waiting for her didn’t make it easier either, but now was not the time to think of Helo and Hera.
Pressing her lips together, Sharon closed in on the basestar, hearing Skulls report their choice to Galactica as if from a distance. None of the raiders approached or even noticed them as far as she could see and suddenly they were in the thick of things, surrounded by a salve of launching raiders, the basestar itself hovering above them, motionless.
They just had to do their part and hope that Gaeta would really be right about that virus, that Anders could handle transmitting it too, that the pilots could hold out on their own...
“Is it normal to be so afraid?” the Eight asked with a small voice.
“Perfectly normal,” Skulls answered tightly. “Also, human.”
“Let’s land,” Sharon said and brought the raptor up.
Oh, frak.
The world had burst into a sea of speed and raiders closing in, people screaming at each other on the wireless and torpedoes fizzling through the black, raiders blowing up and sprinkling Hot Dog’s sight with the yellow and red lights of explosions. Everybody was shouting orders at each other; he himself was shouting at the frakking nuggets to stick to their formation and to frakking not die. Flip didn’t stick close enough. Havoc was wasting torpedoes firing blindly, as far as Hot Dog could see. And that wasn’t even taking into account that he was trying to fight his own battle here, chasing after a raider and opening fire again.
It worked, he’d hit the frakking bastard and a second later, he and his viper were tearing through debris. Another one was closing in. Hot Dog forced his viper into a loop, swearing aloud when he saw Switch drifting after a shot, then blowing up under enemy fire. He’d had already opened his mouth to scream at her so she’d get the frak out of the line of fire but he’d been too late. Swallowing, he almost didn’t tear his eyes away fast enough, and Falcon screamed at him on the wireless to watch out for himself as well or die.
How Starbuck did this every fight, liking it as well, Hot Dog had no clue. Catching a last glimpse of what had once been a nugget and her viper, he only knew he hated being CAG even more than he hated the war.
It wasn’t hard to find a maintenance room close to the landing bay.
Sharon stared at the cloudy liquid darkly for just a second, remembering how she’d refused to even get close to the network panels on the captured basestar. Then she reached down.
Even when she was still one of many, she hadn’t liked connecting to the network, not the way the Twos and Ones did, who virtually swam through code. But she felt very ready to make an exception now. She only had to tear down the firewalls, firewalls that weren’t even a natural part of the design. They’d only been installed after she betrayed them, when she’d killed a whole fleet.
Hopefully, that would work a second time.
The ship didn’t want these firewalls. It seemed to sigh in relief all around her when she located the code, the cascades of water shuddering all around her hand.
Sharon took a moment to carefully reached out for the code and pulled at it with spite.
Galactica had just taken her second hit. A fuse had blown it seemed and something had exploded. Chaos was raging everywhere. Sam had tried to reach the fallen petty officer but the Six had held him back, placing a steely, perfectly manicured hand on his chest. Nobody had time to take care of the wounded. Helo was snapping orders tensely, eyes glued to the Dradis. People were dying out there, buying time for Athena. Whenever Sam looked up at the Dradis, he couldn’t help but stare at the shower of dots covering the screen, too many to count.
“Tell Racetrack to hurry the frak up on Earth!” Helo snapped at Dualla, who was rapidly talking into her earpiece already. “If Athena doesn’t make it, they have to be done down there before we have to jump!” But from the look Gaeta was shooting him for that one, it was clear that there was no plan that included them jumping away without the Admiral, and probably Athena.
Gaeta stood bent over a screen, holding himself up on the console and a crutch, swaying whenever an explosion shook the ground. Hoshi was bustling about, shouting at people. Kelly had taken command of the nukes, keeping an eye on the Dradis as well. It looked like chaos - Sam couldn’t begin to decide where to turn - but everybody knew what to do, and it worked.
“Sir, Pelida and Chrion are breaking Earth atmosphere now,” Kelly rumbled, eyes glued to a screen. “Sinking... They’re off the Dradis.”
“No sign of the Earth vipers yet,” Hoshi chimed in, giving the main Dradis an anxious look before hopping up to his console, and then Gaeta’s head snapped up. Sam saw the motion in the corner of his eye and his stomach twisted, because he knew that Gaeta was keeping the firewalls in sight and he knew what was coming.
“Firewalls are down as of now! Longshot!”
“Your call, Sam,” Helo added tersely.
Strangely, the combination of being addressed by his call sign and first name at once helped keep his pounding heart from exploding. Sam took a deep breath, sending a prayer to Ares, or the Cylon God, whoever would listen.
Then, the Six grabbed his arm, holding it in an iron grip to cut into his palm with a scalpel, face still eerily blasé. Sam grimaced to fend off the pain. Gods, this was disgusting. He started feeling dizzy, seeing all that blood dripping to the ground. Without pause, the Six shoved in the cable. He could feel it scratching bone.
For a moment, there was nothing. Nothing happened at all, and Sam had to swallow down a wave of hysteria because maybe, they’d gotten it wrong. Maybe, the Final Five couldn’t do a transmission like this; maybe, they didn’t have the equipment. It was just a cable shoved up his arm, just plastic and flesh, and all the fleet would die.
Then, something clicked.
Noise rang in his ears suddenly, an uproar rushing towards him from everywhere and his legs buckled, knees impacting with the room’s metal tiles hard. The rest of the CIC could as well be gone, because Sam was choking, images and flashes and noise pounding down on him, overwhelming, devouring him alive.
Blindly, he fought against the assault, not even knowing what he was doing. This wasn’t like firing a gun or even flying a viper at all. It sure didn’t compare to playing Pyramid. On a Pyramid pitch, Sam knew always exactly what was going on. It had always been his strength, had made him a leader, the ability to think and keep everything in sight in every situation. But now, he didn’t even know what ‘this’ was, except that it was loud and overwhelming and everywhere, pain throbbing in his palm and shooting up his arm.
There was... code... no, there were waves, waves of code, everywhere. He couldn’t even have begun to keep apart which of them was supposed to represent Galactica and which of them were the Cylons, or where to find that virus he was supposed to transmit. Truth was, for a moment there, he didn’t even waste a thought to all of that, only fighting not to lose himself in the flow.
Then, there was... something... something moving in there, twisting, looming in the background, and Sam remembered something Sharon had said - there would be a Cavil waiting for him over there, guarding the network.
She’d been right, and suddenly, Sam could feel him, lurking in-between the code and preparing to leash out at whoever penetrated the Cylon network. Steeling himself, he tried to move the fingers of his wired hand to fend off the pain and it worked; it subsided abruptly.
Sam took a deep breath.
He could do this, he told himself. He could.
“We have to get out of here!” Sharon shouted, closing the distance between her and the raptor with a few more large steps, breathing hard when she finally climbed through the hatch. “Hurry! They noticed!”
Unreeling a row of swear words, she pushed the Eight out of the way, gliding into her seat, the hatch already closing behind her. Hearing shouts outside, she knew without turning around that a bunch of Ones and Fours were just turning the corner of the basestar’s landing deck. She’d gotten a glimpse of them, right before she’d started running.
“Just a second!” Skulls shouted and swore when the hatch didn’t close fast enough, the raptor refusing to accept more than one command at a time.
Simons were screaming orders at Cavils and Cavils were shouting back.
“We have to...”
“I got it,” the Eight said, grabbing Skulls’ gun from his belt before the ECO could react, twisting around and shooting once, twice through the closing gap of the hatch.
Twisting the raptor around the moment it left the ground, Sharon caught a glimpse of a Four going down, another one grabbing his shoulder in pain.
“I thought you didn’t download anything before you came over!” she shouted over the ringing in her ears.
“I know,” said the Eight, breathing hard. “But I lied.”
Sharon couldn’t help it; she laughed.
Sam had forgotten where he was. Distantly, he felt sweat on his forehead, somebody looming at his side, heat, and people screaming orders. But it was all far away now. His heart was pounding fast, but steadily, providing a counter beat to the noise penetrating through the link.
And things were clearing up. He wouldn’t know how to describe it, would never be able to talk about it even to another Cylon. It was a sense the humans didn’t have. He was noticing patterns now, beats instead of noise, waves of code dancing around him instead of rushing in.
He knew that the Cavil would attack him even before it happened, and Sam reacted instinctively, the way he would have stopped a hand posed to hit him in midair.
The world stilled.
And all of a sudden, everything was crystal clear.
Yeah, alright. Sure. There was Sam. There was Cavil…
…and alright, there was Gaeta’s code, clumsy and human like Galactica’s code but not at all as ancient. Now that he was really looking at it, feeling it out, he could immediately see how Gaeta thought this program would work.
It was hard to conceive why he hadn’t seen all this before because… well, because nothing had ever been this clear before in his life.
A random thought occurred that he would love to show this to Kara because this had to be like what she saw when she went flying.
But there’d be time for that later. He knew what to do now. Hardening his jaw, Sam pushed himself up, reaching for the virus.
That Cavil wouldn’t be a problem.
Nervously, Helo kept glancing over at Sam, who was possibly convulsing, and at Felix, whose eyes were glued to the screen in front of him. For the time being, he had run out of orders, and he couldn’t do anything but let everybody do their jobs. If Sharon’s raptor had reappeared on the Dradis, he couldn’t make it out; he didn’t have time for a closer look. And things were going downhill out there, Helo knew. What the frak was taking Sam so long? If he…
“Got it!” Sam snapped, out of breath, and Gaeta’s head shot up the very same moment.
“Virus has been transferred!”
Suddenly, it was very quiet in the CIC, the only noise the hum of Galactica’s overstrained engines. Only Dee was handing on the intel to the pilots, everybody else sparing at least a second to look over.
Two larger steps, and Helo reached Felix, scanning the console himself. “What’s happening?”
“I presume that the virus is spreading,” Felix answered, eyes in turns on the screen and the Dradis. The battle was obviously still raging on. “Now we wait.”
Helo tried to swallow down his anxiety. He’d never felt so tense in his life, his whole body tight. Blips were swirling all over the Dradis, vanishing abruptly, new ones showing up, and Gods, was that Sharon? He still couldn’t make out Sharon.
Glancing at Felix, who was looking pale and concentrated and sick, Helo remembered all the things he’d frakked up already. He’d frak this battle up as well; surely, nothing would happen at all, because the virus wouldn’t work. Galactica would be destroyed, and not only his crew but the people down on Earth as well would die. Nice way to end his first command, he thought dryly.
It was probably inane but he had to say something.
“Felix.” The words tumbled out before he could stop himself. Sharon wasn’t here to make up with her alright but Felix, at least, was. “Felix, listen. I know I’ve messed up. But you know I didn’t want to hurt you, right?”
Felix shot him an incredulous look. “This is occurring to you now?” he said, keeping his voice down. “Sir?”
Helo refused to be deterred. “Whatever happened, I would have kept it away from you,” he said. “I mean, I will. I promise. Whatever happens when I tell Sharon, we won’t take it out on you.”
“Okay,” Felix answered, shooting him a wary glance. Obviously, he was fresh out of words, sounding unsure. “Let’s survive first, alright?”
Not much that he could say to that. Helo nodded, concentrating back on the screen. But in the corner of his eye, he could feel the lines in Felix’ face softening slightly, and hey, that had to be worth something. And it hadn’t been that hard either.
Yes, Helo thought, trying to calm himself. This was a good start.
Sam whooped. It was the strangest sound.
Helo twisted around.
“It’s working!” the Six announced.
There was a burst of activity again, when everybody shifted to their consoles, scanning their readings with double intensity. The wireless cackled.
“Galactica Actual, this is the CAG. The Cylons have ceased their fire. Repeat, the Cylons have ceased their fire. They’re all dead in the water, Galactica. The virus is working!”
Helo didn’t dare breath. For a moment, he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to say, so he just nodded, and Dualla handed on the order to fire at will.
“Sir,” she said, looking up. “Sir, there is…”
But she’d already turned on the speakers, and a new voice rang through the CIC.
Helo had never been so glad to hear Lee’s voice before.
“Galactica Actual, this is Apollo. Gods know we’re glad to see you.”
“Hope you left us some Cylon ass to kick, CAG!” Starbuck chimed in cheerfully.
“Sorry that’s a negative, Starbuck,” Hot Dog shot back, laughter and relief palpable in his voice. “We’ll need you to take care of the nuggets while we’re busy.”
Belatedly, Helo noticed that he was grinning madly. Dualla was reporting that Racetrack had hailed, confirming that their command staff was getting on board the Chrion alive and well. People had broken into applause, cheering and congratulating themselves, and over at the comm station, Dualla was beaming at Felix wildly before being engulfed by Kelly who hugged her and threw her off her feet.
There was a pat on his shoulder, and when Helo turned around, Felix was nodding at the Dradis. It was clearing up fast now, and it wasn’t hard at all to make out the singular blip at the edge of the screen that had just been identified as raptor 558.
Helo thought he might be able to breathe again now.
Chapter 8
Feedback would make my day. :-)
Pairings: Helo/Gaeta, Helo/Sharon. Can be read with the occasional Gaeta/Baltar undertones.
Genre: It's a gen story overall but with some slash and het b-plot. So it's kind of a gen hybrid.
Rating: PG-13 for some sex, PTSD, bad language in the face of danger and, ya know, people killing robots.
Characters: Gaeta, Helo and Athena (minor characters are Anders, Dualla, Zarek and Hot Dog as well as some Eights and Sixes)
Spoilers: up to 4.10
Beta: done by ebuchala - thank you again. :)
Summary: The Cylons find the fleet just when all high-ranking personnel is off ship. Galactica's B-Team has to execute a rescue mission but Gaeta is depressed, Helo feels guilty, something's going on with Sharon, and everybody knows the plan is suicide anyway.
Chapter summary: The mission is on and everything is up to Sam.
Author's Note: I'm very sorry this has taken me so long! I don't usually need so much time to write a story. This one turned out to be harder to write than I anticipated and also, real life got in the way of things. However, I'm done and I'll upload the last chapter soon.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6
Helo arrived at the landing deck two minutes too late. Muttering a curse under his breath, he paused in the doorway, seeing Figurski shooing his deckhands off the raptor bay while the viper pilots prepared for launch. Sharon and Skulls were gone already.
No matter what, he hadn’t wanted Sharon to leave without at least saying goodbye. They might all die. He might never see her again. He didn’t know what he would have said but a stupid fight wouldn’t keep him from wishing his wife luck.
Noticing him, Figurski looked him an excuse as if afraid he’d be blamed, and Helo turned away, hardening his face. This couldn’t have been the last he saw of Sharon. It just couldn’t be. They’d just have to survive.
“Well,” Skulls said, his eyes trained on his console in a show of calm practice. “What should we call you? You can hardly go by Eight all the time. That’s not a name.”
“I don’t know. I don’t have a name yet,” the Eight answered from the back of the raptor. “I haven’t decided on one.”
Sharon snorted, maneuvering the raptor away from Galactica to give them some space for the jump. The coordinates had been transferred already, their own position set some hundred miles away from Galactica, so they wouldn’t end up in the center of the battle. She noticed she could see the Pelida hovering portside Galactica from here, ready to fly down to Earth to execute the rescue. Racetrack was in command of that, who’d never been in command of anything in her life, but Racetrack’s skills were the last thing to worry Sharon.
Opening a comm link, she wondered if Helo would hear her in the CIC. He hadn’t even shown up before launch. Gods, she’d really frakked that one up. “Galactica, this is Athena. Launch prep is complete. We’re waiting for the mission go.”
The wireless cracked. Dualla’s voice confirmed, telling her to hold the position.
So far, so good.
“Alright,” Skulls said, unperturbed. “But we have to call you something. How would you feel about ‘Doe Eye’?”
The Eight chuckled. Sharon reached out and hit his shoulder without even looking up.
“Or what about...” He paused to check a read-out. “...‘Sharon the third but the better and greater’? Also cuter of course but maybe that’s just me.”
“You’re such an idiot, Skulls,” Sharon said.
Skulls grinned. “Just trying to relieve the tension. It’s a nice change of mood from the suicide mission and us probably dying.”
Sharon rolled her eyes.
They’d brought in a Six to assist him. Sam gave her a nervous look, trying to figure out if he’d seen her before but it was impossible to tell. This one was cool and calm, surveying the CIC with what looked like detached interest. She wouldn’t be doing anything, of course, except making sure that he didn’t bail out.
Unfortunately for the fleet, that wasn’t an option.
Restlessly, Sam stepped aside to let Hoshi pass, who didn’t even pause to look at him. Hoshi was serving as watch officer today, Sam thought, although it seemed to be complicated. He’d never had a chance to learn anything about the works of the CIC so he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on at each station. The whole room was buzzing with activity, people hurrying around, knowing exactly what to do. The atmosphere was the same as it would be down on the landing deck now, anxiety mixed with hyper-awareness, the pre-mission adrenaline kicking in for everybody slowly. It wasn’t that different from the air wing up here, just quieter and more restrained. The ensign at the console next to Sam was sweating, although the CIC was cool. Dualla looked more focused than could possibly be real.
“You will fair well,” the Six said, unexpectedly.
Sam gave her a sour look. “How’d you figure that?”
“You are one of the Final Five.” She narrowed her eyes. “If not you, nobody can save us.”
And wasn’t that just nice and reassuring.
Sam contemplated answering to that, but all answers would sound like he thought he belonged here. Sam settled for a nod, trying not to feel nauseated. He wished he were down on the landing deck. He didn’t share Kara’s love for flying but flying would be something he was good at, something to occupy his mind, and both couldn’t be said about his current situation.
He tried to not look at the fiber-glass cable the Six was holding at the ready, searching the room instead.
Turning just in time, he saw Captain Kelly pausing in the doorway. He was wearing his uniform.
Well I’ll be damned, Sam thought. Last he knew, the LSO had still been in the brig. Nearby, people were looking up as well, startled. Rumor had it that Adama hadn’t been inclined to let Kelly go free, thinking of discharging him into the civilian fleet, since Kelly hadn’t shown the slightest bit of remorse over killing that lawyer. But here the captain was, looking like he was searching for a sign. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found one because he smoothed his uniform with new determination and headed for the command table.
“Commander,” he said, saluting. Helo returned the gesture smoothly.
“Welcome back, Captain. Tactical is yours.”
“Sir,” Kelly said. “May I just say how much I appreciate...”
“No need for that, Captain,” Helo said. “I can’t have you waste time in the brig when we need everybody up here. The admiral will have to rule on your... political statement later.”
“Sure wasn’t hard to understand the sentiment,” Gaeta said idly, stepping up to the command table. Kelly shot him a smile, taking a clipboard from Hoshi and starting to confer with the watch officer quietly. Gaeta however was still ignoring Sam and for once he was thankful for that.
The fiber-glass cable and the Six were bad enough.
Sam still didn’t have the slightest clue how you transmitted a Cylon virus.
The LSO’s voice was ringing through the speaker, telling all pilots to prepare to jump. Hot Dog involuntarily reached for his viper’s control panel to hold onto something. Just a second later, the uncomfortable sensation of jumping shuddered through his spine, leaving him feeling shaky. It never had before.
All viper pilots were ready to launch and he held position one in viper launch tube one, the position of the CAG.
I’m already dead, Hot Dog reminded himself, the way he’d learned as a nugget. The LSO was reporting in again. The pilot’s hand was on the control stick now, clenching and unclenching. I’m already dead. I’m not afraid. I don’t have to worry. Sure not about getting the nuggets to land after this. He had no clue how you got untrained nuggets to perform a combat landing for the first time. They hadn’t gotten around to teaching them. Or about mission reports.
Now there was a positive thought.
Hot Dog swallowed. He could do this. He had to. He could lead this CAP and get everyone through this alive, at least up to the point where he died, because he would, and Redwing could take over after him. He was already dead. He could tell himself that.
Here goes, Hot Dog thought when the LSO gave the go and the rush of acceleration burned the rest of the world around him away, spitting him out into the black a second later, with his wingman at his side and his team in his back, and that really bad taste in his mouth.
“Alright,” Skulls said tersely, his fingers dancing over his keypad in the corner of her eye. “There are... frak, there are many, Sharon. There are basestars back in orbit that aren’t even heating up their engines. I think it’ll be a while before those even think of getting involved. I say we tackle one of them. Fast.”
“Agreed. There, that one. Transferring the coordinates.” Mouth dry, Sharon concentrated on flying them around the spectacular burst of battle erupting in the distance. Galactica had jumped just one second after them, spitting out a salve of vipers, opening fire even before that. Kelly was working with one of their last torpedo reserves, she knew. It was vicious, none of the vipers holding back. It was hopeless.
Earth was gleaming proudly in front of them, the silhouette of a basestar hanging in orbit right there, black against luminous Caprican blue. Automatically, Sharon scanned the ship with her eyes, searching for a way to decide if she knew it but no, they all still looked exactly alike.
Something exploded just portside but Sharon refused to look around. Her hands felt clammy by now, her heart pounding steadily. That was why she wasn’t a viper pilot. She’d never relished in the fight like Starbuck, just prayed that she wouldn’t panic and that she’d make it out alive.
Having family waiting for her didn’t make it easier either, but now was not the time to think of Helo and Hera.
Pressing her lips together, Sharon closed in on the basestar, hearing Skulls report their choice to Galactica as if from a distance. None of the raiders approached or even noticed them as far as she could see and suddenly they were in the thick of things, surrounded by a salve of launching raiders, the basestar itself hovering above them, motionless.
They just had to do their part and hope that Gaeta would really be right about that virus, that Anders could handle transmitting it too, that the pilots could hold out on their own...
“Is it normal to be so afraid?” the Eight asked with a small voice.
“Perfectly normal,” Skulls answered tightly. “Also, human.”
“Let’s land,” Sharon said and brought the raptor up.
Oh, frak.
The world had burst into a sea of speed and raiders closing in, people screaming at each other on the wireless and torpedoes fizzling through the black, raiders blowing up and sprinkling Hot Dog’s sight with the yellow and red lights of explosions. Everybody was shouting orders at each other; he himself was shouting at the frakking nuggets to stick to their formation and to frakking not die. Flip didn’t stick close enough. Havoc was wasting torpedoes firing blindly, as far as Hot Dog could see. And that wasn’t even taking into account that he was trying to fight his own battle here, chasing after a raider and opening fire again.
It worked, he’d hit the frakking bastard and a second later, he and his viper were tearing through debris. Another one was closing in. Hot Dog forced his viper into a loop, swearing aloud when he saw Switch drifting after a shot, then blowing up under enemy fire. He’d had already opened his mouth to scream at her so she’d get the frak out of the line of fire but he’d been too late. Swallowing, he almost didn’t tear his eyes away fast enough, and Falcon screamed at him on the wireless to watch out for himself as well or die.
How Starbuck did this every fight, liking it as well, Hot Dog had no clue. Catching a last glimpse of what had once been a nugget and her viper, he only knew he hated being CAG even more than he hated the war.
It wasn’t hard to find a maintenance room close to the landing bay.
Sharon stared at the cloudy liquid darkly for just a second, remembering how she’d refused to even get close to the network panels on the captured basestar. Then she reached down.
Even when she was still one of many, she hadn’t liked connecting to the network, not the way the Twos and Ones did, who virtually swam through code. But she felt very ready to make an exception now. She only had to tear down the firewalls, firewalls that weren’t even a natural part of the design. They’d only been installed after she betrayed them, when she’d killed a whole fleet.
Hopefully, that would work a second time.
The ship didn’t want these firewalls. It seemed to sigh in relief all around her when she located the code, the cascades of water shuddering all around her hand.
Sharon took a moment to carefully reached out for the code and pulled at it with spite.
Galactica had just taken her second hit. A fuse had blown it seemed and something had exploded. Chaos was raging everywhere. Sam had tried to reach the fallen petty officer but the Six had held him back, placing a steely, perfectly manicured hand on his chest. Nobody had time to take care of the wounded. Helo was snapping orders tensely, eyes glued to the Dradis. People were dying out there, buying time for Athena. Whenever Sam looked up at the Dradis, he couldn’t help but stare at the shower of dots covering the screen, too many to count.
“Tell Racetrack to hurry the frak up on Earth!” Helo snapped at Dualla, who was rapidly talking into her earpiece already. “If Athena doesn’t make it, they have to be done down there before we have to jump!” But from the look Gaeta was shooting him for that one, it was clear that there was no plan that included them jumping away without the Admiral, and probably Athena.
Gaeta stood bent over a screen, holding himself up on the console and a crutch, swaying whenever an explosion shook the ground. Hoshi was bustling about, shouting at people. Kelly had taken command of the nukes, keeping an eye on the Dradis as well. It looked like chaos - Sam couldn’t begin to decide where to turn - but everybody knew what to do, and it worked.
“Sir, Pelida and Chrion are breaking Earth atmosphere now,” Kelly rumbled, eyes glued to a screen. “Sinking... They’re off the Dradis.”
“No sign of the Earth vipers yet,” Hoshi chimed in, giving the main Dradis an anxious look before hopping up to his console, and then Gaeta’s head snapped up. Sam saw the motion in the corner of his eye and his stomach twisted, because he knew that Gaeta was keeping the firewalls in sight and he knew what was coming.
“Firewalls are down as of now! Longshot!”
“Your call, Sam,” Helo added tersely.
Strangely, the combination of being addressed by his call sign and first name at once helped keep his pounding heart from exploding. Sam took a deep breath, sending a prayer to Ares, or the Cylon God, whoever would listen.
Then, the Six grabbed his arm, holding it in an iron grip to cut into his palm with a scalpel, face still eerily blasé. Sam grimaced to fend off the pain. Gods, this was disgusting. He started feeling dizzy, seeing all that blood dripping to the ground. Without pause, the Six shoved in the cable. He could feel it scratching bone.
For a moment, there was nothing. Nothing happened at all, and Sam had to swallow down a wave of hysteria because maybe, they’d gotten it wrong. Maybe, the Final Five couldn’t do a transmission like this; maybe, they didn’t have the equipment. It was just a cable shoved up his arm, just plastic and flesh, and all the fleet would die.
Then, something clicked.
Noise rang in his ears suddenly, an uproar rushing towards him from everywhere and his legs buckled, knees impacting with the room’s metal tiles hard. The rest of the CIC could as well be gone, because Sam was choking, images and flashes and noise pounding down on him, overwhelming, devouring him alive.
Blindly, he fought against the assault, not even knowing what he was doing. This wasn’t like firing a gun or even flying a viper at all. It sure didn’t compare to playing Pyramid. On a Pyramid pitch, Sam knew always exactly what was going on. It had always been his strength, had made him a leader, the ability to think and keep everything in sight in every situation. But now, he didn’t even know what ‘this’ was, except that it was loud and overwhelming and everywhere, pain throbbing in his palm and shooting up his arm.
There was... code... no, there were waves, waves of code, everywhere. He couldn’t even have begun to keep apart which of them was supposed to represent Galactica and which of them were the Cylons, or where to find that virus he was supposed to transmit. Truth was, for a moment there, he didn’t even waste a thought to all of that, only fighting not to lose himself in the flow.
Then, there was... something... something moving in there, twisting, looming in the background, and Sam remembered something Sharon had said - there would be a Cavil waiting for him over there, guarding the network.
She’d been right, and suddenly, Sam could feel him, lurking in-between the code and preparing to leash out at whoever penetrated the Cylon network. Steeling himself, he tried to move the fingers of his wired hand to fend off the pain and it worked; it subsided abruptly.
Sam took a deep breath.
He could do this, he told himself. He could.
“We have to get out of here!” Sharon shouted, closing the distance between her and the raptor with a few more large steps, breathing hard when she finally climbed through the hatch. “Hurry! They noticed!”
Unreeling a row of swear words, she pushed the Eight out of the way, gliding into her seat, the hatch already closing behind her. Hearing shouts outside, she knew without turning around that a bunch of Ones and Fours were just turning the corner of the basestar’s landing deck. She’d gotten a glimpse of them, right before she’d started running.
“Just a second!” Skulls shouted and swore when the hatch didn’t close fast enough, the raptor refusing to accept more than one command at a time.
Simons were screaming orders at Cavils and Cavils were shouting back.
“We have to...”
“I got it,” the Eight said, grabbing Skulls’ gun from his belt before the ECO could react, twisting around and shooting once, twice through the closing gap of the hatch.
Twisting the raptor around the moment it left the ground, Sharon caught a glimpse of a Four going down, another one grabbing his shoulder in pain.
“I thought you didn’t download anything before you came over!” she shouted over the ringing in her ears.
“I know,” said the Eight, breathing hard. “But I lied.”
Sharon couldn’t help it; she laughed.
Sam had forgotten where he was. Distantly, he felt sweat on his forehead, somebody looming at his side, heat, and people screaming orders. But it was all far away now. His heart was pounding fast, but steadily, providing a counter beat to the noise penetrating through the link.
And things were clearing up. He wouldn’t know how to describe it, would never be able to talk about it even to another Cylon. It was a sense the humans didn’t have. He was noticing patterns now, beats instead of noise, waves of code dancing around him instead of rushing in.
He knew that the Cavil would attack him even before it happened, and Sam reacted instinctively, the way he would have stopped a hand posed to hit him in midair.
The world stilled.
And all of a sudden, everything was crystal clear.
Yeah, alright. Sure. There was Sam. There was Cavil…
…and alright, there was Gaeta’s code, clumsy and human like Galactica’s code but not at all as ancient. Now that he was really looking at it, feeling it out, he could immediately see how Gaeta thought this program would work.
It was hard to conceive why he hadn’t seen all this before because… well, because nothing had ever been this clear before in his life.
A random thought occurred that he would love to show this to Kara because this had to be like what she saw when she went flying.
But there’d be time for that later. He knew what to do now. Hardening his jaw, Sam pushed himself up, reaching for the virus.
That Cavil wouldn’t be a problem.
Nervously, Helo kept glancing over at Sam, who was possibly convulsing, and at Felix, whose eyes were glued to the screen in front of him. For the time being, he had run out of orders, and he couldn’t do anything but let everybody do their jobs. If Sharon’s raptor had reappeared on the Dradis, he couldn’t make it out; he didn’t have time for a closer look. And things were going downhill out there, Helo knew. What the frak was taking Sam so long? If he…
“Got it!” Sam snapped, out of breath, and Gaeta’s head shot up the very same moment.
“Virus has been transferred!”
Suddenly, it was very quiet in the CIC, the only noise the hum of Galactica’s overstrained engines. Only Dee was handing on the intel to the pilots, everybody else sparing at least a second to look over.
Two larger steps, and Helo reached Felix, scanning the console himself. “What’s happening?”
“I presume that the virus is spreading,” Felix answered, eyes in turns on the screen and the Dradis. The battle was obviously still raging on. “Now we wait.”
Helo tried to swallow down his anxiety. He’d never felt so tense in his life, his whole body tight. Blips were swirling all over the Dradis, vanishing abruptly, new ones showing up, and Gods, was that Sharon? He still couldn’t make out Sharon.
Glancing at Felix, who was looking pale and concentrated and sick, Helo remembered all the things he’d frakked up already. He’d frak this battle up as well; surely, nothing would happen at all, because the virus wouldn’t work. Galactica would be destroyed, and not only his crew but the people down on Earth as well would die. Nice way to end his first command, he thought dryly.
It was probably inane but he had to say something.
“Felix.” The words tumbled out before he could stop himself. Sharon wasn’t here to make up with her alright but Felix, at least, was. “Felix, listen. I know I’ve messed up. But you know I didn’t want to hurt you, right?”
Felix shot him an incredulous look. “This is occurring to you now?” he said, keeping his voice down. “Sir?”
Helo refused to be deterred. “Whatever happened, I would have kept it away from you,” he said. “I mean, I will. I promise. Whatever happens when I tell Sharon, we won’t take it out on you.”
“Okay,” Felix answered, shooting him a wary glance. Obviously, he was fresh out of words, sounding unsure. “Let’s survive first, alright?”
Not much that he could say to that. Helo nodded, concentrating back on the screen. But in the corner of his eye, he could feel the lines in Felix’ face softening slightly, and hey, that had to be worth something. And it hadn’t been that hard either.
Yes, Helo thought, trying to calm himself. This was a good start.
Sam whooped. It was the strangest sound.
Helo twisted around.
“It’s working!” the Six announced.
There was a burst of activity again, when everybody shifted to their consoles, scanning their readings with double intensity. The wireless cackled.
“Galactica Actual, this is the CAG. The Cylons have ceased their fire. Repeat, the Cylons have ceased their fire. They’re all dead in the water, Galactica. The virus is working!”
Helo didn’t dare breath. For a moment, he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to say, so he just nodded, and Dualla handed on the order to fire at will.
“Sir,” she said, looking up. “Sir, there is…”
But she’d already turned on the speakers, and a new voice rang through the CIC.
Helo had never been so glad to hear Lee’s voice before.
“Galactica Actual, this is Apollo. Gods know we’re glad to see you.”
“Hope you left us some Cylon ass to kick, CAG!” Starbuck chimed in cheerfully.
“Sorry that’s a negative, Starbuck,” Hot Dog shot back, laughter and relief palpable in his voice. “We’ll need you to take care of the nuggets while we’re busy.”
Belatedly, Helo noticed that he was grinning madly. Dualla was reporting that Racetrack had hailed, confirming that their command staff was getting on board the Chrion alive and well. People had broken into applause, cheering and congratulating themselves, and over at the comm station, Dualla was beaming at Felix wildly before being engulfed by Kelly who hugged her and threw her off her feet.
There was a pat on his shoulder, and when Helo turned around, Felix was nodding at the Dradis. It was clearing up fast now, and it wasn’t hard at all to make out the singular blip at the edge of the screen that had just been identified as raptor 558.
Helo thought he might be able to breathe again now.
Chapter 8
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