BATTLESTAR GALACTICA: FIRE IN SPACE
                          by
                     Eric J. Paddon

Based on an original teleplay by Terence McDonnell & Jim Carlson
             Original story by Michael Sloan
      Battlestar Galactica created by Glen A. Larson

         This is a work of fan-fiction and is not
        intended to infringe on any copyright laws

          Battlestar Galactica: Fire In Space

                       Prologue

     As Baltar sat in the throne chair located inside the command
center of his basestar, he could hear the gliding noise of Lucifer
approaching.  Almost immediately, he had an inkling of what the IL
Cylon was going to tell him.
     "By your command," the IL Cylon said in that outwardly deferential
tone that always made Baltar feel a twinge uneasy.
     "Speak," he waved his hand.
     "We have a message from Gomorrah.  Imperious Leader wishes to
speak to you directly."
     The human traitor sunk back in his chair.  As he'd feared, the
message he'd been dreading for two days now, was finally coming.
     "Is our new plan ready to be put into effect?" he asked.
     "It is," Lucifer admitted.
     "Then I shall speak with him," he rose from his throne chair,
"Once he is appraised of the new plan, that should settle all matters
with him."
     The IL Cylon resisted the urge to issue a mild retort.  As far as
he was concerned, it would take a lot more than a new battle plan to
get Baltar off-the-hook after all that had happened two days ago at the
Battle of Gomorrah.  What had supposed to be a "rout" and a "massacre"
of all that remained of humanity, had instead turned into an
unmitigated disaster for the Cylons, with two basestars destroyed and
serious damage inflicted on the outer capital of Gomorrah.  Where the
Imperious Leader himself had been present to dedicate the new garrison.
     And now, two days later, Baltar would be hearing from the Cylon
ruler for the first time since the battle.
     The human traitor walked at a brisk pace into the next room, where
the communications set-up was.  With a calm, collected expression, he
flicked on one of the console switches.
     In an instant, Imperious Leader's face filled the screen.
     "Your Eminence," Baltar bowed slightly and kept his tone
deferential, "We are glad to know that you are still safe."
     "We can dispense with formalities, Baltar," the Cylon ruler
sounded thoroughly displeased, "I want a full status report, now."
     Baltar sucked in his breath, "Our two sister basestars have been
destroyed.  But so too, has the Battlestar Pegasus."
     "Are you certain of that?" the Leader's question was pointed, "Did
you confirm her destruction, or did she just 'disappear' as she did at
Molocay, two yahrens ago?"
     "Well sir, I admit that we have no floating space debris to
confirm that, but it is my firm belief that there is no possibility she
could have escaped without being detected by us."
     "Somehow, your 'firm beliefs' have given me less cause for
assurance than before," there was an acidic edge in the Leader's retort
that managed to send a brief chill up Baltar's spine.  He found himself
unable to respond, but then Imperious Leader resumed in a decidedly
less harsh tone.
     "No matter though," he said, "Right now, you are not the one I
have more anger with, Baltar.  The entire command infrastructure of
Gomorrah, from Commander Keldor on down, lied to both my predecessor
and me for two yahrens, and never told us that the Battlestar Pegasus
was still alive and well and causing all the trouble here.  They have
all been forced to pay the appropriate consequences for their
incompetence and their treachery."
     "Yes, and I would also remind you, that any failures caused in the
recent battle were also due to the fact that Gomorrah never told me
about the Pegasus either," Baltar interjected.
     "No need to defend yourself, Baltar," Imperious Leader now sounded
totally reassuring, "I am not planning any disciplinary action against
you at the present time."
     Instantly, the human traitor felt his body relax as a wave of
intense relief filled him.
     Behind him, a sensation of stunned disbelief went through every
circuit in Lucifer's body. 
     "What is the status of the Galactica and her fleet?" the Leader
resumed.
     "She shall be dealt with as soon as you and I are through
talking," Baltar spoke with renewed confidence, "She has not been as
quick to elude our monitoring of her since leaving the Gomorrah
quadrant.  As a result, we are ready to launch a new assault that will
guarantee the Galactica's destruction."
     "How?" Imperious Leader asked with a hint of skepticism.
     "I have spent the last two days, arming our squadrons for a
special mission," he said, "Our fighters are being packed with
solonite, and will be instructed to ram the Galactica.  The combination
of that and the solonite in the fighters will set-off a chain reaction
of explosions that will destroy the Galactica without the need for any
sustained battle."
     There was a brief silence from the other end of the transmission.
     "Baltar," the Leader said, "You are aware that by loading your
fighters with solonite, you are all but insuring that they will be
totally impotent in direct engagements with the Galactica's vipers."
     "I'm aware of that," Baltar admitted, "That's why I'm loading as
many fighters as I can.  The greater volume will insure that some will
break-through the defense lines and be able to ram the Galactica."
     Imperious Leader was silent again.
     "We have reached the stage where an admittedly desperate measure
is now called for," Baltar resumed, "After what has gone on in the last
two days, I do not believe that a conventional assault will be
sufficient, and," he paused briefly, "As the last combat-ready basestar
in this quadrant, I don't believe it wise to engage the Galactica in a
direct ship-to-ship confrontation at this time."
     "Agreed," the Cylon ruler seemed to sigh in resignation, "Your
plan has my approval.  Carry it out."
     Baltar allowed himself a faint grin, "Thank you, Your Eminence."
     "Inform me of how events develop when you can."
     "I shall.  Oh, and there is one other thing."
     "Yes?"
     "Since you have conducted a justified purge of the administrative
leadership on Gomorrah, I believe you will be needing to appoint a new
base commander."
     "Do you have any recommendations?"
     "I do," Baltar said, "There is an IL Cylon aboard my ship who
served with distinction as commander of a small garrison on the planet
Atilla.  He's been in need of a new assignment since climate conditions
forced him to abandon the garrison."
     "Is he reliable?" the Leader asked.
     "He is.  His name is Spektor."
     "Hmmm, I shall give his name strong consideration.  Thank you
Baltar."
     "Until later, Your Eminence," the human traitor again bowed
slightly as the Cylon ruler's face faded from the screen.
     With the transmission ended, Baltar turned to Lucifer, and grinned
more broadly.
     "You see, Lucifer?" he said with that aura of smugness that had
not been there for days, "The Leader is most understanding when it
comes to realizing where the larger blame lies."
     The IL Cylon did not reply.  He found it absolutely incredible
that Imperious Leader had let Baltar off so easy.  And to learn that
incompetent Spektor would very possibly be heading up the new garrison
as well?  He knew perfectly well that the only reason why Baltar had
recommended Spektor was because of the way the older IL Cylon had
stroked the traitor's vanity with effusive compliments of praise during
his last dispatches from Atilla.  All of which, Lucifer was convinced,
had been an elaborate smokescreen to cover-up Spektor's own
incompetence, although he'd never been able to prove that.
     "Launch all fighters, Lucifer."
     It took Lucifer all his strength to reply, "By your command," as
he then turned and glided out of the room as fast as his circuits would
allow.

                                   Chapter One

     As the Battlestar Galactica and her fleet of 220 ships left the
planet Gomorrah and the Cryllian star system behind her, a sense of
normalcy began to slowly return.
     "All scanners report clear," Colonel Tigh reported as Adama
entered the bridge.
     "Good," the Galactica commander sat down, "It looks as though all
that fuel we took from Gomorrah has paid off."
     "All squadrons are still on Yellow Alert status," Tigh added, "But
Commander, there are a lot of pilots and other warriors who've been
through a lot these last few days.  I would strongly recommend that
those who've gone the longest without one, be granted immediate furlons
now."
     The commander nodded, "Probably a good idea, Colonel.  But just to
be on the safe side, do it for only the top five percent on the list."
     "Boomer will be glad to hear that," Tigh said, "He came up to me
this morning, and reminded me that he'd been at the top for almost a
sectan."
     "He's a good warrior.  He deserves it." Adama agreed, as he then
made a mental note that he might soon be considering Boomer for more
important responsibilities in the near future.   Right now, the recent
battle had left him without a commander for Red Squadron, following the
death of Captain Taggs.  It was the second time in three sectars that
Red Group's leader had met with death, the first having been Captain
Killian at Arcta when he fell victim to the Ravashol pulsar.  Of all
the warriors he could think of, Boomer seemed best suited for the job,
though there remained the sticky matter of his not being a veteran of
the Battlestar Columbia, as so much of Red Group was.  He had a hunch
though, that in light of how Captain Taggs had not distinguished
himself prior to his death, Red Group might not be unreceptive to the
idea of an outsider taking charge this time.
     Tigh nodded and called over to Rigel, "Inform all warriors who are
eligible that their furlons begin now."  
     Adama then cast a pensive glance at the executive officer, "I take
it there's been no word on the Pegasus?"
     "No word," Tigh shook his head.
     The commander let out a sigh of regret, and motioned Omega to come
over.
     "Omega," he said, "You can stop transmitting those messages aimed
at the Pegasus."
     The bridge officer stiffened slightly.  Two of his former
classmates from warrior training were stationed aboard the Pegasus, and
he hadn't received a single opportunity to share any kind of reunion
with them since the battlestar's discovery.  Still, he immediately
nodded and went back to his station.  
     "You've given up on him?" the executive officer delicately asked.
     Adama swivelled in his chair and looked at his friend, "Tigh,
those signals aren't serving a purpose anymore.  If Cain's dead, he
won't answer them, and if he's alive, he has no intention of ever
answering them."
     "Adama," Tigh said, "Man to man, what do you think the chances are
of him still being alive?"
     The commander smiled thinly.
     "I'll put it this way," he finally said, "I don't think the last
chapter in his story has been written yet.  For now, I think he's just
come to the conclusion that he can fight his battles more effectively
if he doesn't have to answer to my authority."
     "That's always been his method, hasn't it?"  The executive officer
had a faint air of disdain in his voice, as the unpleasant memories of
the last few days that had impacted him more than he would have liked,
came back to him.
     Adama chuckled.
     "Do you know what the real irony is, Tigh?" he said, "If Cain's
overeagerness for battle hadn't gotten the better of him one time at
the Academy, he would have had every legal right to be giving me
orders."     
     Tigh frowned slightly, "I thought you received your commission one
semester ahead of him."
     "I did," Adama said, "And as you know, that's my only legal
authority over him, since the status of Martial Law means that the
senior most warrior is officially Supreme Military Commander.  If he'd
officially outranked me, that would have technically trumped even my
position as President of the Council under a Martial Law status.  But
Cain actually entered the Academy two semesters ahead of me."
     The executive officer's interest was piqued, "What got him into
trouble?"
     "The Baptism of Fire ritual."
     Tigh's eyebrows went up.  After completing four years of classwork
and technical training, it had always been standard operating procedure
for Academy cadets to fly one successful combat flight in the company
of twelve experienced viper pilots before becoming eligible for
commission.  Along the way, one cadet had dubbed the practice the
Baptism of Fire ritual, and the term had always stuck through
succeeding generations of cadets.
     "Let me guess," the executive officer ventured, "Did he get
overanxious that first time out?"
     "He did," Adama nodded, "He was placed with a squadron from the
Ricon.  They were supposed to destroy some Cylons that were harassing
civilian convoys between the inner and outer colonies.  Well no sooner
were they away, when Cadet Cain, who had already received the highest
training marks of any cadet in more than a hundred yahrens, started
questioning the flight leader's strategy and judgment on what formation
to fly, how to approach the ships, and every other little thing that
Commander Kronus had given careful instruction on.  And before you knew
it, Cain had literally taken command of the patrol himself."
     "How did the engagement turn out?"
     "Naturally, it was a total success," the commander smiled thinly,
"Not a single Cylon escaped, and not a single viper was lost.  But that
gross deviation from the rulebook and the established chain-of-command
did not sit well with Commander Kronus and his passion for regulations. 
He was a personal friend of the Academy Commandant, and tried to use
his influence to get Cain expelled."
     "Ah," light suddenly dawned on Tigh, "Now I know why you didn't
call Kronus over from the Celestra for any input during the battle."
     Adama nodded.  The former commander of the Battlestar Ricon had
retired from active duty, two yahrens before the Holocaust. But after
being evacuated safely in the Exodus, had been reactivated and placed
in command of the fleet's largest maintenance ship.  From time to time,
Adama had given the ex-commander the courtesy of offering some input
during potential combat planning situations, but ever since Commander
Cain's discovery, Adama had not contacted Kronus once.
     "Exactly.  The two of them still hate each other with a passion."
     "I take it though, that the Commandant wasn't willing to go along
with that idea?"
     "The Commandant knew that Cain was too good and too brilliant for
any punishment that drastic.  But he decided to placate Kronus a
little, and had Cain suspended for three semesters.  And that," he
chuckled, "Is how I got my commission ahead of him, and had the
authority to pull rank on him under the Seniority System."
     "Incredible," Tigh shook his head in amazement.
     "Yes," Adama turned around and looked at the starry expanse that
filled the viewing screen, "My instincts tell me he's still out there,
somewhere, Tigh.  And somehow, someday, when he thinks he can do it on
his terms only, we'll be hearing from him again."
     "Does that really make him such a noble figure, Adama?"  Tigh
decided to get all the things about Cain that had been bothering him
off his chest at long last.  "Two yahrens ago, Cain decided it was more
important to fight his own battle with the Cylons when we needed him at
home more than ever.  And now, when our Fleet still needs him...."  He
trailed off, unable to go further.
     "Tigh," Adama put his hand on his friend's shoulder.  "I
understand where you're coming from, but you're doing Cain a
disservice.  I think in his own way, he really believes he's doing us a
favor by fighting the Cylons on his own, especially if anything he does
to tie them up back in Cylon space forces the Empire to divert more of
their resources to handling the problem of him, as opposed to searching
for us."
     "Okay," Tigh nodded reluctantly.  "You have a point, but when it
comes to what happened two yahrens ago...."
     Adama abruptly cut the executive officer off.  "Tigh, that's even
more unjust.  What would Cain's protests have accomplished if he'd been
there while Baltar was deluding us all, and getting Adar to sign the
treaty that sealed our fate?  I had my own doubts, and so did Fairfax,
but even we, as members of the Council couldn't make headway with those
who trusted our judgment about such matters more than they trusted a
non-member like Cain. Maybe it would have made a marginal difference in
terms of numbers of lives lost, but I don't think it would have changed
much.  We were making our own Destruction inevitable with the long-term
sickness of fatigue and loss of will.  I really don't see how one man,
even a legend like Cain, could have stopped that disease from spreading
amongst our people, because it's the kind of thing that military genius
couldn't come up with a solution for."
     The executive officer calmly exhaled as he realized that Adama had
made some powerful points that he had failed to consider after his
unpleasant experience as acting commander of the Pegasus had left Tigh
with feelings of bitter resentment toward Cain, and the adulation his
crew was always ready to give the Juggernaut.
     Tigh allowed himself only a faint nod as he went back to the other
side of the bridge.
      

     For the fifth time in the last two days, Apollo found himself
stopping by the Life Station to check on the progress of those who'd
been wounded in the recent battles.  He noticed with relief that the
room that had been nearly full just two days earlier was now
practically empty.
     "Hello, Apollo," Dr. Salik looked up as he saw him enter.
     "Hello," Apollo smiled at him, "Looks as though every one's
finally out."
     "Modern medicine is a wonder, Apollo," the middle-aged doctor came
over to him, "Just ten yahrens ago, it would have required a minimum of
a sectan's recuperation to get over the kind of injuries some of these
warriors suffered.  But now, they end up in and out of here in only a
day or two."
     "That's good," Apollo said, "We're still not a hundred percent
sure that things will be getting back to normal, Doctor, so the more of
these warriors we have back, the better."
     "Especially Lieutenant Sheba?" Salik asked with a pointed edge.
     Apollo didn't change his expression, "She's a good warrior, Dr.
Salik.  The sooner she's able to help us again, the better."
     "I'm only asking, because you seemed to be taking a special
interest in her, these last two days."
     "Both her and Bojay," Apollo said, "I've been working real close
with them, as I'm sure you know."
     "I know," Salik nodded, "Cassiopeia gave me a very vivid account
of what you went up against on Gomorrah.  Not the sort of thing I would
have tagged along for, even if I were twenty yahrens younger."
     "Sheba and Bojay have been through a lot, Doctor," Apollo added,
"It won't be easy for them to adjust to life aboard here.  I just want
to make sure they're being well-treated."
     "No need to worry about that," Salik smiled, "They were, and as
you can see, they've both been released."
     "In that case, I'll be going," Apollo said, "And no offense, Dr.
Salik, but I hope I won't be seeing you again for awhile."     
     When Apollo left the hallway, he stopped to think for a moment
about the way Salik had asked that question about his interest in
Sheba's progress.
     Subconsciously, he had to admit that there was a quality to
Commander Cain's daughter that intrigued him.  Ever since he'd first
seen the hologram image of her beautiful visage in Cain's quarters and
learned that she was the pilot who'd nearly blasted him out of the sky,
he'd found himself developing a deep admiration and respect for her,
even as they'd gone at each other's throats during the controversies of
the last sectan, especially when Adama had briefly relieved Cain of his
command.
     For just a brief instant, he considered the possibility that he
was developing an attraction to her, and then he quickly pushed the
idea out of his head and felt himself flooded with guilt for having
considered it.  Ever since Serina had been taken from him on the sands
of Kobol, he'd made a silent vow not to let any other woman come into
his life, and he was determined to hold to that vow.
     He'd struggled with that vow when he'd crashed his viper and been
stranded briefly on an isolated human settlement on the planet
Equellas, and had met a compassionate woman named Vella.  But after his
viper had been fixed, and he'd made what he'd known was an empty
promise of one day coming back, he'd been able to return to his life
aboard the Galactica and mentally block out those feelings he'd had for
Vella, permanently.  As he wanted it to be, the memory of Serina was
what reigned throughout his mind, heart and soul.
     By the time he approached the Officers Club entrance and saw
Starbuck emerge, he'd managed to bury all thoughts of the question he
had briefly contemplated.
     "Hey there you are," Starbuck said, "I've been looking for you for
two centars."
     "Sorry," Apollo said, "Just checking up on a few things."
     Starbuck looked back in the direction of where Apollo had come
from.
     "Wouldn't have been in the Life Station by any chance, would it?"
     "As a matter of fact, it was," Apollo was nonchalant, "They
finally got all our wounded from the battle out of there, and none too
soon."
     "Including our new guest Sheba, right?"
     Apollo frowned at him, as he noticed the same edge in Starbuck's
question that had been there in Salik's.  Only this time, the edge to
it was even more pointed.
     "She's out and back to duty, if that's what you mean."
     "Yeah," Starbuck stuck a fumarello brand cigar in his mouth, "I
only asked, because it seemed like for the last two days, you were kind
of taking an interest in how she was progressing."
     Apollo stopped and grabbed Starbuck by the arm.
     "What exactly are you getting at, Starbuck?"
     The blonde lieutenant let out an awkward chuckle, "Guess I'd
better learn to keep my thoughts to myself."
     "No, come on," Apollo demanded in a low tone, "What are you
getting at?"
     His friend sighed, "Okay.  I have to confess that I noticed an
interesting look on your face when Cain first showed that hologram
image of her, and that ever since, you kind of seemed to want
to....well hover near her."
     "She's an attractive woman, Starbuck," Apollo said coldly, "You're
not the only person capable of admiring that without turning it into
something else."
     Starbuck was momentarily taken aback.  In all the yahrens he'd
known Apollo, this was the first time he could ever recall him making
such a harsh comment about Starbuck's ways with women.
     "Hey, I'm sorry, okay?" he held up his hands apologetically,
"Forget I ever said anything."
     "Good," the coldness didn't fade from Apollo's voice, "Keep it
that way."
     But as they resumed walking, Starbuck had the feeling that he'd
struck a nerve with his friend, and that the subject conceivably could
come up again in the future.  And then, another realization popped into
his head as he understood why Apollo would not have wanted to admit any
attraction to Sheba under any circumstances.
     Just then, they noticed Athena and an exuberant Boxey, who was
followed as always by his beloved robot daggit Muffit coming in the
other direction.
     "Hi Dad," Boxey smiled his widest grin at him.
     "Hi," Apollo smiled back and ran his hand through his son's hair,
"Where are you three off to?"
     "The Rejuvenation Center," Athena said, "I finally received a long
overdue furlon, and I'm going to spend it by taking on Boxey at every
game in sight."
     "The way he plays, you'll need all the luck you can get," her
brother said.
     "Can you come along Dad?" Boxey asked, "You can play the winner."
     His father shook his head, "We're still on Yellow Alert status,
Boxey.  I'm afraid I'll have to pass this time."
     "Trust me, your waiting will be dull," Athena said, "It's been
clear for two days now."
     Apollo leaned down and patted the robot daggit, "Look after them,
will you Muffy?"
     The robot let out a friendly yelp and wagged its tail.
     "And another thing," he whispered slyly, "Don't bark if you sniff
out more mushies.  He can't be having too much."
     "See you later," Athena resumed walking and waved at them.
     "See you," Apollo waved back as Boxey and Muffit followed them.
     Once they were gone, a puzzled Starbuck turned to Apollo.
     "Uh, Apollo," he said, "Was it my imagination, or did I get the
feeling that Athena didn't want to talk to me?"
     "I don't think it was your imagination," Apollo said as he resumed
walking.
     "Hey look, its not my fault that she--" Starbuck protested as he
caught up to him.
     "Starbuck," Apollo turned around and sounded reassuring, "I am not
holding anything against you, just because your relationship with my
sister is all but dead."
     Starbuck let out a sigh of relief, "Thanks.  I...figured you
weren't bothered, but hearing it from you makes me feel a lot better."
     "Friends stick together through anything," he paused briefly
before going on, "Speaking of which, how's Cassiopeia taking Cain's
second disappearance?"
     "Remarkably well, thank the Lords," Starbuck seemed to smile, "I
think she already accepted it even before we lost contact with him. 
She...really knows a lot about how his mind works."
     "So with you and my sister not doing much of anything anymore, and
with Cain out of the picture, does that clear the way for bigger and
better things with you and Cassiopeia?"
     Starbuck looked at him quizzically as he took another puff on his
cigar, "What'd you have in mind?"
     "I don't know," Apollo kept his expression dead panned, "What did
you have in mind?"
     His friend smiled only the faintest of smiles and slowly shook his
head, "No comment."     


     The Galactica's Rejuvenation Center was located deep in the
interior of the warship.  Designed to provide a different form of
leisure activity than the Officer's Club did, it boasted more than
twelve different types of computer and table games.  Not only was it
popular with all the children and civilians aboard the Galactica, many
off-duty warriors could often be found here, using the games as a means
of improving reflex action and hand coordination.
     "Well Boxey, you did it to me again," Athena said with only the
faintest trace of exasperation as the little boy's shot across the
table landed in the empty pocket at her end.
     Boxey came over to her end of the table and perched himself on the
side, "Yeah, isn't this fun, Athena?"
     "That's a pretty easy thing to say when you're winning, Boxey," a
voice from the other end of the room by the doorway said.
     Athena looked up in surprise and saw Boomer come up to them, "What
are you doing here, Boomer?  Apollo said that Blue Squadron was still
on Yellow Alert."
     The warrior's tone was relaxed, as he knelt alongside of where
Boxey was seated, "Well, even Blue Squadron pilots get a furlon once in
a while.  Once I reminded Colonel Tigh that I'd been at the top of the
list for a sectan, that finally got things in motion."
     "Now that's the mark of someone who's really been without a furlon
for too long," Athena smirked, "Throwing your weight around with the
executive officer."
     "Hey, it paid off, didn't it?  Now all I have to do for the next
twenty-four centars is relax."
     "Want to play compartment bulwarks with me?" Boxey asked him, "I'm
pretty good."
     "Oh?" he looked at the little boy quizzically, then shot a glance
at Athena who shook her head in indication of the futility she'd been
going through.
     "You're on," Boomer said as Muffit crawled on top of the table
from the other side and came over to where the three were congregated.
     "You'll be sorry, Boomer," a well-built warrior wearing the
insignia of a Colonial security guard smiled and shook a finger of
warning as he headed for the door to leave.
     "Come on Castor," Boomer replied good-naturedly to the man he had
recently been partnered with in the new Triad league that had been
organized.  "A Colonial Security guard is never much of a challenge for
a boy of six."
     "At least we do better than a Council Security goon would,"
Sergeant Castor grinned as he stepped out.
     "He's right about that," Boomer admitted, "A boy of three could
handle a guy like Reese in half a micron."
     "Agreed," Athena nodded.
     "Still want to play?" Boxey asked.
     "Absolutely," Boomer nodded, "And if you beat me, I got a surprise
for you."
     "I'll bet it's a mushy," there was no surprise in Boxey's voice as
the robot settled next to him.
     "How's a guy keep a secret around here?" Boomer lifted an eyebrow
in amazement.
     "I just trained him to sniff out mushies," he looked down at his
pet with pride.
     "Is there nothing he can't do?" the warrior said as he got to his
feet, "Okay, set them up and let's see if you can live up to your past
glories."
     Just then, the relaxed atmosphere of the Rejuvenation Center was
shattered by the sound of the Red-Alert klaxon.  The warning light
above the compartment door cast its eerie glow throughout the room.
     "Oh boy," Boomer's shoulders sagged in disappointment, "So much
for the stabilized situation."      


     "Commander," Tigh was hunched over Omega's console as the
Red-Alert lights came on throughout the entire bridge, "Come over here. 
Looks like a Cylon combat probe."
     Adama slowly made his way over.
     "Probably from the last of those three baseships at Gomorrah," the
executive officer added.
     The commander let out an exasperated sigh as he studied the
monitor.
     "That would be Baltar's ship.  The only one we know Cain didn't
take out," he said, "It looks as though all the efforts he made to get
the Cylon task force off our backs have come to naught.  Get Blue
Squadron launched to intercept."
     "Yes sir," Omega pressed the button that gave the order.


     Apollo and Starbuck were still walking down the corridor when the
alarm went off.
     "Oh, not again," Starbuck shook his head in disbelief, "Don't
Cylons ever take furlons of their own?"
     "Come on, let's get going," Apollo began sprinting for the
turbo-lift.


     In another area of the Galactica, a subdued Sheba had returned to
her new quarters only a centar earlier after being released from the
Life Station.
     The last two days had been a living nightmare for Sheba.  Her
entire world had literally been turned upside-down.  Just one sectan
earlier, her life had been content aboard the Battlestar Pegasus, as it
had been for the last two yahrens since her father, Commander Cain, had
taken the aged warship out into deep space after the Battle of Molocay.
     Then, the discovery of the Galactica had brought the first
disruption with the re-emergence of her father's one-time mistress
Cassiopeia.  She had slowly come to adjust to that development after
working alongside Cassiopeia in the commando raid on Gomorrah, and
developed a new respect and even friendship for her.  But what had
happened next had almost destroyed her emotional psyche.
     After the commando raid on Gomorrah, she had been injured when her
viper took a shot from a Cylon fighter.  She'd been evacuated to the
Galactica, and it was from her hospital bed that she had learned the
news that her father had gone off to engage two Cylon baseships and had
disappeared.  The destruction of the two baseships had been confirmed
by Apollo and Starbuck, but there was no indication of whether or not
the Pegasus had escaped safely.  For the last two days, all efforts to
contact the battlestar had been futile.
     With the exception of her Pegasus wingmate Bojay, who had also
been evacuated to the Galactica, Sheba was now totally cut-off from all
the friends she had known.  None of the rest of the Pegasus personnel
who'd been evacuated to the Fleet came from the ranks of men and women
she'd been well acquainted with.  Her narrow world for the last two
yahrens had been her father, the bridge personnel and the pilots of
Silver Spar Squadron.  And for the first time in her life, she realized
she'd be forced to go on without her father and the rest of that tight
support group she'd always leaned heavily on.
     Outwardly, everyone on the Galactica had extended a hand of
friendship to her, and they all had tried to sound reassuring notes for
her benefit.  Adama, reassuring her that the lack of a response meant
nothing, and that her father was probably maintaining radio silence to
keep his whereabouts hidden.  Starbuck, saying that as far he was
concerned, Commander Cain had just headed out into deep space just like
the last time at Molocay.  
     And Apollo.  Adama's son, whom she'd been almost at odds with from
the moment they'd met, when her patrol had opened fire on his before
they realized who they were, and later still, during the controversy
when Adama had briefly relieved Cain of his command.  Even during those
controversies though, and especially in the two days since the Pegasus'
disappearance, there was something in the way he'd been hovering around
her that made it almost seem if Apollo was going out of his way to be
with her.
     She wasn't sure if she was anxious to reciprocate.  Even when
Adama had extended his hand and asked her to consider herself a part of
his family until her father made contact with them again, she had
outwardly said yes, but inside, she was still torn with grief over what
had been taken from her.  Whether she could open herself up to new
friends in new surroundings was something she didn't know if she was
capable of doing at the moment.
     When she heard the Red Alert go off though, she knew right away
that she had to put her feelings aside and get back to the work she was
cut-out for as a warrior.  She wasted little time in getting into her
flight uniform.
     As she prepared to leave her quarters for the launch bay, she
picked up her helmet and suddenly stopped.  The helmet was a standard
issue Galactica one, totally different from the one she'd worn as a
member of the Pegasus.  Instantly, she felt a sharp feeling of
resentment that this had been issued to her so fast.  She might now be
technically among the Galactica's pilots, but her emotions and her
heart were still with her father and the friends she'd been forced to
leave behind aboard the Pegasus.
     She went over to her bunk, and saw that her old Pegasus helmet
with the equine logo on the front had been set aside in a corner. 
Calmly, she placed the Galactica helmet down and retrieved the Pegasus
one.
     Feeling more secure emotionally, Sheba then ran off at a brisk
pace for the launch bay.


     "Damn," Adama clenched his fist in disgust, "If we hadn't taken so
much time loading up the ships with all that extra fuel we took from
Gomorrah, we might have been further away from the quadrant by this
time."
     "Whoever would have thought that Baltar would be capable of
regrouping this fast," the executive officer grunted, "That isn't his
usual style."
     Suddenly, the readings on the board became more ominous.
     "That's not a combat probe," Adama said as calmly as he could.
     "They're mounting another major attack," Tigh nodded grimly.
     "Launch all remaining squadrons."
     The Red Alert klaxon wailed with even greater intensity, and some
of the bridge personnel who were attached to reserve squadrons got to
their feet and dashed off the bridge.
     "This could be their last desperate gamble," the commander's voice
picked up with intensity, "No telling what surprises we could be in
for.  Colonel Tigh, prepare the Galactica for heavy attack."
     The executive officer nodded and moved off to another part of the
bridge.
     Adama then turned to Omega, "Secure all compartments."
     The bridge officer flicked several switches.  One by one, all the
doors to each room and compartment aboard the great battlestar began to
slide shut.


     The tempo of activity in the launch bays picked up as the
remaining pilots arrived and got into their ships.  Within microns, all
those who had arrived were away.
     The darkly attractive Jenny, who was the lead supervisor for the
ground-crew attached to Blue Squadron frowned as the last vipers took
off.  During all that time, she hadn't seen anything of Boomer.
     As she saw the compartment doors slide shut, she knew that no
matter where he was, the pilot she regarded as one of the best aboard
the Galactica was going to miss the battle.
     She hoped his absence wouldn't be as costly as she feared it might
be.


     "Will you have to go?" there was an obvious air of disappointment
in Boxey's voice as he looked up at a tense Boomer.
     "Technically, I don't have to," Boomer said as the sound of the
first Red Alert continued to wail throughout the Rejuvenation Center,
"Still, I think I'd better put off my furlon for another time."
     Just then, the sound of the alert changed to the higher pitch, and
slowly, Boomer saw the compartment door start to automatically slide
shut.
     "Holy Frack, it's an all-out attack!" he blurted as he dashed
toward the door and tried to reach it before it closed.  The other
people in the room trailed him with great concern.
     Too late, the door closed just an instant before Boomer's
outstretched hand could stop it.
     The dark-skinned warrior sucked in his breath and turned around to
face the crowd that had gathered behind him.
     "Okay everybody," he said calmly and motioned his hands downward,
"Just go back to what you were doing.  Nobody's going anywhere until
this thing is over."
     Slowly, he made his way back to the other end of the room where
Athena and Boxey had remained.
     "Why did they close the doors?" the little boy asked without too
much concern.
     His aunt placed a protective hand on his shoulder, "Well, so that
if one part of the Galactica gets hit, it won't affect the rest of the
ship."
     "That prevents the oxygen from escaping if the hull is pierced,"
Boomer said and then uneasily looked about the room, "We had quite a
few of those problems the other day at Gomorrah.  I hope this old
girl's strong enough to take it again."
     "Looks like you and I picked a lousy day for a furlon," Athena
smiled weakly as she settled back on the couch at the end of the game
table.
     Boomer returned it, "Hopefully, this battle isn't going to end up
revealing how indispensable you and I really are."


     "Okay," Apollo sucked in his breath as he led Blue Squadron,
"Contact will be right now."
     The massive number of Cylon fighters then appeared.  They came in
closely packed columns that stretched to more than six fighters wide in
each row.
     Immediately, Apollo opened fire and picked off the first three in
the echelon.
     He tensed as he expected the blue streaks of return fire to come,
and kept his hand on his control stick, preparing for the roll maneuver
he'd have to go into once the Cylon ships opened fir.
     But nothing happened.
     Apollo frowned and lined up two more shots.  With still no return
fire, they both hit their targets with no difficulty.
     Behind him, Starbuck lined up behind a formation of three ships,
and had them all destroyed in less than a five second span.
     He too, was greeted with no return fire.
     Sheba felt her normal reflex actions come back without any
trouble.  With no after-effects of her injuries, she too destroyed
three fighters without any return fire.
     "This sure is easy," she spoke up.
     "A little too easy," Starbuck radioed back, "They're not fighting
back.  What the frack are they up to?"
     "I have no idea," Apollo was baffled, "They aren't even moving at
their top speed.  I guess we should take advantage of it though."
  

     Aboard the lead Cylon fighter, there was no concern at all from
the command pilot as virtually all of the ships to his left and right
were destroyed with no return shots.
     "Follow the programmed coordinates," he said to the other two
pilots, "Ignore the Colonial vipers."
     "By your command," the first one responded.
     It mattered not to the command pilot's robot mind that he had been
programmed for a mission where he would deliberately destroy himself. 
To him, the overriding part of his programming, the destruction of
humanity, was all that counted, and if he should destroy himself while
doing so, that was of no consequence.  Other Cylons would be ready to
take his place long after he was gone.
     His craft plowed ahead and managed to get by the first line of
viper defense.


     "There's still too many of them," Sheba looked at her screen and
saw even more fighters emerge, "Where's that help?"
     "Right behind you," a familiar voice that she recognized as
Bojay's came through her helmet.
     Instantly, Sheba felt herself relax.  Hearing Bojay's voice almost
made it seem as if she were still flying a mission aboard the Pegasus.
     "Glad you made it out of the Life Station in time, Bojay,"
Starbuck replied, "Right now, take your pick.  Base level one of the
simulator was more difficult than this."
     The Pegasus veteran opened fire and like the others, was able to
pick off three ships in less than five seconds.


     "Commander," Tigh came up to Adama, "All squadrons are engaged,
but there's something wrong.  We're outnumbered, but we're blowing them
out of the skies.  They don't seem to be fighting back."
     The commander raised an eyebrow in puzzlement.
     "Cylon fighters aren't known for their brilliant marksmanship," he
said, "But for them not to open fire at all doesn't make sense,
unless..." he trailed off.
     "Unless what?" the executive officer asked, "Suicide runs?"
     "Yes, it could very well be.  Omega!" he barked, "Bring all laser
turrets to full power!"


     Apollo and Sheba had pursued the lead echelon of fighters, which
now numbered four.  Together, they took care of the second and fourth
fighters from that group, but the first and third were able to roar
past them and get by their line of fire.
     "Galactica, this is Blue Leader," Apollo radioed with more than a
note of concern, "Two from the first wave have broken through."
     "Our laser turrets will take care of them," he heard his father's
calm voice reply.
     But before Apollo decided to turn back and face the next wave, his
nagging concern caused him to scan the two Cylon ships.
     The reading suddenly caused his blood to run cold.
     "Father, those ships are packed with solonite!" he blurted, "They
clearly intend to ram!"
     Apollo then hit his turbo and began a frantic effort to catch up
with the two fighters before they reached the Galactica.
     In the distance, he could see them draw closer to the battlestar,
and it seemed more than likely that he wasn't going to get them in
time.


     Adama felt his body tense when he heard his son's last message.  A
normal suicide run was one thing, but a fighter packed with solonite
carried implications that were far more ominous.
     "Positive shield, now," he still kept his voice under control.


     The two Cylon fighters broke off from their single arc and assumed
different headings.
     The first one went into a delicate banking maneuver and now aimed
itself squarely at the Galactica's bridge.
     "One micron to impact coordinates," the first pilot intoned.
     The command pilot's robotic mind almost felt a sense of what the
human mind would call a deep sense of satisfaction.


     "It's headed for the bridge," the panic rose in Apollo's voice as
both he and Sheba made one last attempt to take the first one out.
     The two of them both opened fire with all the rapidity they could
muster.
     "Got him locked in my sight," Blue Leader clenched his teeth as
the fighter began to flash on his target computer.
     The Cylon craft was almost on top of the bridge as Apollo hit the
fire button as hard as he could.

     
     The Cylon fighter was only twenty feet from crashing into the hull
of the battlestar when Apollo's shot finally got the craft.
     In getting it, Apollo had prevented the fighter from using its
lethal cargo of solonite to cause an unholy chain reaction that would
have destroyed everyone and everything aboard the bridge.
     But because the Cylon fighter exploded so close to the ship, it
still produced a powerful shock wave that slammed full force against
the bridge.
     In an instant, the shield protecting the bridge crumbled, and the
shock wave went through the entire area.
     All about, people were thrown from their positions, some sent
crashing into the machinery, others hurled clear across the room.
     Towards the center, Tigh was tossed off the upper center of the
bridge and hurled under the console on the next level.  Amazingly, the
only injury the executive officer sustained was a bruise to his right
hand.
     Omega was thrown backward as sparks erupted from his console and
the entire bridge system shorted out.
     Not far from where Tigh had been standing, Adama had grabbed on to
the railing separating the upper level from the lower one and came
through the first blast unhurt.
     But then came the second blast.
     The second explosion roared with such intensity, that in an
instant, portions of the ceiling bulkhead began to give way.
     Before anyone had time to react, a large section of the bulkhead
suddenly crashed down on to the center of the bridge.  Right where
Adama had tried to hastily shield himself.


     Apollo saw the explosion just above the bridge, and could see the
secondary explosions erupt as a result of the shock wave.
     Right away, he felt a sick sensation in his heart and knew the
situation was very bad.
     "Galactica bridge, this is Apollo," he signaled with a great deal
of tension, "Come in."
     There was no response.
     "Galactica bridge, this is Apollo," his voice rose in pitch,
"Answer!"
     Still nothing.
     Frustrated, Apollo banged his hand against the console and looked
about, "Sheba, where'd that other Cylon go?"
     "It took another track, there's no way we can get to it," a note
of alarm had entered her voice, "Starbuck, can you get it before it
reaches the Galactica?"
     "I've got it in pursuit," Starbuck replied.  The sense of ease
he'd felt earlier when the ships didn't fire back was gone now. 
Inside, he felt more tense than he'd ever felt in any previous combat
engagement.
     He fired at the lumbering Cylon craft.  And missed.  The target
remained in front of him, but it was hovering too high on his attack
computer.  A clean shot was impossible.
     Just ahead, loomed the imposing spectacle of the Galactica's port
landing bay.
     Starbuck's heart was pounding so fast, he almost felt it would
explode right through his uniform.
     "Boomer," he whispered under his breath, "Where are you when I
need you?"
     He fired again, this time more in desperation.  As he had already
known it would, the shot missed.  The Cylon fighter was still too high
on the attack computer.
     "Galactica bridge," he radioed, "He's headed for the port landing
bay.  I can't get him in time."
     "Try anything, Starbuck!" Apollo shouted back, "Don't let him get
there."
     "I'm sorry, Apollo," for the first time in his life, there was a
sense of regret and defeat in Starbuck's voice. "There's nothing I can
do."
     The three pilots could only watch in mute horror as the Cylon
fighter streaked toward the landing bay in what seemed like an ordinary
landing approach.


     "Five microns to impact," the lead Cylon pilot intoned with that
same sense of satisfaction that his counterpart in the first fighter
had felt.
     The fighter entered the landing bay on a perfectly straight arc. 
And then, as soon as the craft was completely inside, the pilot's last
act was to hit his thruster on an upward heading, straight into the
landing bay's ceiling.
     The explosion from the fighter's impact with the landing bay was
powerful, in and of itself, but it was the type of impact that the
Galactica had long been used to.  For hundreds of yahrens, she had
taken suicide hits to her landing bay, and had always been able to
weather them with minimal short-term damage.
     But as the solonite tanks inside the fighter ruptured, they
produced their deadly chain reaction, and set off a second explosion,
the likes of which the great battlestar had not known in more than five
hundred yahrens of service.
     A massive fire erupted down the entire length of the landing bay
and rapidly spread into zones that were ordinarily safe from
conventional attack.
     The Main Energizer that provided power for the entire ship was
located two compartments in back of the landing bay.  Though shielded
from the roar of the fire, the shock wave smashed through the room and
totally destroyed the sleek piece of equipment.
     The Boraton Mist Control Center, which served as the main base of
operations and distribution for the Galactica's fire team, was also
wiped out in the same explosion.  The four fireman stationed there to
monitor all fire fighting activity, as well as control pressure of the
boraton to all the hoses throughout the ship, all died in a wall of
flame before having a chance to realize what had happened. 
     To one side, the main wall of the fire was carried by another
explosion, which sent the inferno on two separate arcs through a series
of vents and corridors deep into the battlestar's interior.
     Directly in the path of the explosive power, was the Rejuvenation
Center.


     Some of the twenty-odd people who had gathered in the Rejuvenation
Center had awkwardly tried to go back to their games when the attack
began.  Boomer, Athena and Boxey though remained seated at the back end
of the game table, each of them feeling somewhat too apprehensive to
resume playing.
     They felt the room shake and vibrate for several seconds when the
diminishing shock wave of the bridge explosions came their way.
     "That was pretty serious," a note of alarm entered Athena's voice,
while her nephew somewhat impulsively threw his arms around her.
     "Yeah," Boomer felt only a raging tide of frustration at not being
able to take part in the battle.
     And then, without warning, the power of the landing bay explosions
hit them.
     The ones closer to the vents took the worst of the explosions.
Some suffered instantaneous burns from the flash fire that momentarily
belched through the openings.  Others were tossed into the air and felt
their bodies slammed against pieces of game equipment.
     Boomer grabbed both Athena and Boxey and instantly shielded them
on the other side of the game table.  Their bodies were pelted by a
large amount of light debris before the explosion ended as abruptly as
it had began.
     "You okay?" he quickly glanced down at the two of them.
     Athena dimly nodded.
     As Boomer scrambled to his feet, a thick acrid smoke filled the
room.
     "I thought we were too far inside for a laser hit," Athena was in
a state of near-shock.
     "We are," the warrior gave his first quick look around, "That was
something else."
     And then, one final small explosion came from the back end of the
Rejuvenation Center.
     "Frack Almighty," Boomer stumbled forward as he tried to begin a
hasty evaluation of the situation.


     From outside, Apollo, Starbuck and Sheba had the best view of what
the lone hit had done to the great battlestar.  The first explosion in
the landing bay had been bad enough to watch, but nothing had prepared
them for the horrible sight of the second massive explosion caused by
the solonite tank.
     "Oh my God," Starbuck whispered in horror at the sight.  He hadn't
seen a battlestar look so bad since he'd witnessed the destruction of
the Atlantia during the Holocaust.
     An anguished Apollo again hit his radio, "Apollo calling Commander
Adama, come in!"
     There was still no response.
     "Come in!" he was almost pleading.
     "Hey Apollo," Jolly's voice cut in, "The three of you get back
here and help us.  We've still got about three dozen more Cylon
fighters headed this way."
     Apollo barely comprehended him, "I've got to find out what's
happened there.  Galactica bridge, this is Apollo!"
     "Apollo, Jolly's right," Starbuck retorted, "We haven't got time
to find out.  We've got to make sure no more of those incoming Cylons
get through.  One more hit, and the Galactica is finished."
     When there was no response, an exasperated Starbuck finally
signaled the third viper in the area, "Sheba, are you coming with me?"
     She could barely take her eyes off the horrible sight of the
Galactica, but she immediately nodded, "I'm with you, Starbuck."
     They went to their turbos and pulled away from the burning
battlestar.
     A moment later, a reluctant Apollo hit his turbo and went back to
join the main battle.


     The bridge was in a state of shambles as two more consoles erupted
in a shower of sparks.  It took a while before anyone who'd been
relatively unhurt by the explosions felt safe enough to move about.
     Tigh pushed aside some debris and made his way back to the center
of the bridge.  He froze in horror when he saw the prone form of Adama,
unmoving on the floor, a column of debris lying on top of him.
     With anguish, he reached the commander and opened his eyes. They
were clearly dilated.
     The executive officer looked up and saw that a concerned Omega had
also arrived on the upper level and was also bent over Adama's
unconscious form.
     "Get Dr. Salik, fast!" Tigh ordered.  The bridge officer nodded
and quickly moved away.
     "The Lords help us," he whispered as he took Adama's weak pulse,
"The Lords help us all."
     He then let go of Adama's hand and tried to shake himself out of
his stunned stupor.  The responsibilities now rested with him. He was
now Acting Commander, and he had to start acting assertive right now.
     "Get a team over here to start cutting away this bulkhead!" he
barked at several other technicians who'd gotten to their feet.
     "It'll take some time to locate the right tools, Colonel," one of
them gently protested.
     "I do not care, just do it!" he raised his voice to a shout.
     Tigh then felt his body deflate considerably.  Raising a ruckus
didn't make him feel any easier or more secure.
     Calmly, he went back to where Adama lay and again felt his weak
pulse.  Determined not to leave his commander's side for the moment.
     

     By the time the vipers of Starbuck, Sheba and Apollo had rejoined
the main battle group, they saw that the columns of Cylon fighters were
rapidly dwindling.
     "Probably about two dozen left," Apollo struggled to get some of
his warrior's professionalism back, "Don't let a single one survive."
     "There still hasn't been one that's returned fire," Bojay could
scarcely believe it, "It looks as though all of them are packed with
solonite."
     "And more than a hundred all told," Sheba said, "Now we know why
that last basestar was laying low for the last two days."
     "Leave it to Baltar to come up with something like that," there
was a distinctly bitter edge in Starbuck's voice as he took aim and got
two more fighters.
     As the number of fighters became fewer and fewer, it suddenly
became more difficult to lock on to the remaining ones.
     "Eight more left," Bojay reported, "Shouldn't be much longer."
     "Yeah, but now they're not packed together anymore.  This is where
it got tricky with the other two," Sheba responded to her fellow
Pegasus veteran.
     "All squadrons drop back," Apollo barked, "Make sure there's a
wall between here and the Galactica that those remaining fighters
couldn't possibly get past."


     Tigh found himself unable to leave Adama's side as some semblance
of order tried to return to the shattered bridge.  He'd always regarded
Adama as a great tower of strength, and found it impossible to
reconcile that image with the man who lay sprawled across the floor.
     Suddenly, he noticed Adama stir, ever so slightly.
     "Adama?" he leaned forward.
     The commander's eyes opened only a crack, "Tigh," his voice was a
thick and nearly inaudible whisper.
     "I'm here Adama," his long-time friend tried to sound reassuring.
     "Casualties?" the commander barely croaked the word out.
     The executive officer shook his head, "I don't know."
     "Dam--age?" the next word came out with even more difficulty.
     "Bad," Tigh let out a deflated sigh, "Apollo was right.  Those
Cylon fighters were packed with solonite."
     "New...low...even for...Cylons."
     "We put out all the fires here on the bridge with boraton mist,"
Tigh said, "But as for the rest of the ship, I just can't tell yet."
     "Colonel Tigh!" Omega blurted from the other side of the bridge,
"Deep scan has been knocked out.  Internal communications too."
     Tigh lowered his head and softly repeated the news for Adama,
"We've lost deep scan."
     Omega made his way around the center to where Tigh was, "We've
set-up an emergency radio system.  Right now, we can talk to our
pilots, but that's it."
     "How many of those Cylon fighters are left out there?"
     "They say less than ten.  Right now, they think they can keep them
from getting through."
     "They'd better," the executive officer grunted.  He then took a
breath and slowly raised his voice to a level of authority, "See what
you can do about internal communications.  And I want those scanners
operational as soon as possible."
     "Colonel," Omega protested, "The scanners have had it, they're
completely destroyed."
     "Vipers...will be our eyes," Adama managed to speak.
     Tigh nodded.  He was letting himself be rattled more than he could
allow, since he knew he should have thought of that first.
     "Inform the pilots," he said to Omega, "As soon as they finish off
the rest of those Cylons, keep at least two squadrons flying."
     "Yes sir," the bridge officer nodded and left.
     Tigh looked down at Adama's limp form and thought for a moment of
the cruel ironies.  All his life, he'd dreamed of having his own chance
at commanding a battlestar, and for the second time in a week, the
opportunity was being presented to him under distasteful circumstances. 
The first time, he'd been forced to step in as acting commander of the
Pegasus when Adama had relieved Cain.  The cold stares of contempt from
Colonel Tolen and all the other warriors aboard the Pegasus had been
enough to make him realize that the reality of command was never going
to match any of the dreams he'd once held.
     And now, he was forced to take charge with the Galactica battered
as she'd never been battered before, and on the verge of
self-destructing altogether.
     If by some miracle he came through this, he doubted that he'd ever
have a pleasant dream about command responsibilities again.


     "Down to seven left," Jolly said as he took care of another Cylon
fighter.
     "Make it five," Starbuck chimed as two more fell victim to his
fire.
     "Make sure there's at least one other viper with you," Apollo
spoke up, "Single ship-to-ship combat won't be enough of a guarantee."
     Starbuck seemed to notice a double-edge to his friend's words, and
wondered if in some subtle way that last remark was directed squarely
at him.
     He decided to hold his tongue as he and Bojay hooked up and chased
down two more of the remaining ships.
     One-by-one, with almost agonizing slowness, the remaining fighters
were blasted away.
     All except one final fighter.
     "It's in your sector, Jolly," Apollo barked, "Get it."
     "Affirmative," the fat warrior hit his turbo and sized it up.
     But then, before he could press the fire button, the fighter
suddenly went into an abrupt banking maneuver and veered itself
directly at Jolly's viper.
     The collision warning sounded in Jolly's cockpit and he had no
choice but to hit his own turbo and go into an evasive roll.
     The Cylon fighter safely flew past.
     "Frack, he pulled some fancy maneuver on me, he's gotten through!"
Jolly shouted.
     "Somebody pick it up!" Apollo also shouted, with just a note of
terror entering his voice.
     "Pursuing," Sheba could barely keep the terror she felt herself
submerged as she hit her turbo.
     The daughter of the man known as the Juggernaut tried to summon
all that calm under battle conditions that had made her father famous,
and which he'd often claimed with pride that she'd inherited from him.
     The fighter came within her field of vision, streaking toward the
Galactica.
     "Heading for the starboard landing bay," she clenched her teeth.
     "This is it, Sheba," Apollo's voice was at its most grave, "If he
gets through, the Galactica's finished."
     "Will you shut the frack up and let me concentrate?" she angrily
shouted back.
     Apollo was taken aback by her feisty retort, but dutifully fell
silent.
     A hush came over the other pilots as they watched Sheba's viper
pursue the last Cylon fighter.
     Closer, they drew toward the undamaged starboard landing bay.


     "Forty microns to impact," the lead Cylon pilot intoned.
     And once again, a sense of programmed satisfaction that his
mission was going to be accomplished began to take hold. 


     Sheba's eyes were locked on to her attack computer.  As had been
the case with Starbuck's pursuit of the other fighter, the Cylon craft
hovered just a little too high.
     "Come on," she whispered, "Come on."
     As the landing bay loomed closer, she decided that it had come
down to one last tactic.  Adjust her nose a fraction of a degree up. 
It had to be an infinitesimal adjustment, because overcompensating too
much would put the fighter too low for her line of fire.
     She applied her finger to the control stick with all the
delicateness of a surgeon performing an operation.
     After what seemed like an eternity, the image of the Cylon fighter
on her attack computer dropped down ever so slightly.
     And then, the image blinked, indicating that it was locked.

     
     "Thirty microns to impact," the lead pilot again intoned.
     In front of him, the first Cylon pilot placed his robotic hand on
the control stick, preparing for the micron when he'd take the craft on
its abrupt upward trajectory once it was inside the landing bay.


     In an instant, Sheba pressed the fire button and held her breath.
     Twenty five microns short of the landing bay, the laser shots
blasted the Cylon fighter to infinity.  The shock wave of the explosion
dissipated harmlessly, and caused no further damage to the battlestar.
     As Sheba slowly exhaled, her helmet was filled with the sound of
all the other pilots exhaling as well.
     "Way to go Sheba," Bojay said with more than a hint of pride.
     "Thanks," she tried not to sound drained.
     Starbuck still couldn't take his eye off the burning landing bay. 
In the face of Sheba's last-second success at destroying the third
fighter, he couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't taken all the risks
he could have to prevent the other fighter from escaping his pursuit.
     He thought back to that time when he had been captured by Baltar
and brought aboard the traitor's basestar as a prisoner.  The first
words he had spoken to Baltar had been filled with anger.  A desire to
give his life for just one shot at the traitor.
     As he saw the eerie orange glow of fire in the landing bay
intensify, that desire raged through him again.
     "Okay," Apollo took charge again, "That takes care of the Cylons. 
But we're not out of the woods yet.  Blue and Red Squadrons, prepare to
land in the starboard bay.  All other squadrons stay on watch in case
more of them come back."     
     As Apollo drew his ship toward the burning battlestar, he could
only wonder what kind of horrors had already taken place, and whether
or not the damage that had already been inflicted on the ship would
finish the job for the Cylons.

                                Chapter Two

     The man in charge of the Galactica's fire and damage-control team
was a middle-aged, gray-haired man named Jorda.  A seasoned veteran
with over thirty yahrens of service aboard several different
battlestars, it was his job to be ready with a team of firefighters
after every combat engagement, and do all he could to get the Galactica
back to working condition as fast as possible.
     Jorda had seen a lot in his thirty yahrens, but as he got his team
in place two compartments from the port landing bay, nothing prepared
him for the intensity of the inferno that now raged throughout the
corridor.
     He had already discovered to his horror that the worst possible
contingency for his men had come into play.  The Boraton Mist Control
Center, located in one of the adjacent compartments to the port landing
bay had been totally destroyed by the blast, and with it, his Chief
Deputy Fireman and three others who'd been stationed there.  And he
knew that if he had not left the center to check on the damage from the
hit to the bridge, he would have been dead too.
     With his main base for firefighting activities rendered useless,
he was now forced to rely on less reliable secondary storage units from
elsewhere in the compartment.
     "Put the boraton pressure to the max!" he shouted at Stone, the
fireman at the pump station controlling the hoses.
     Stone shook his head, "Sorry sir, but with the Control Center
gone, we can't get any more pressure than what we're getting now."
     One of the lead firemen who'd been spraying his hose all over the
forward end of the compartment to seemingly no avail, suddenly backed
away.
     "I don't like the looks of this," he lifted his helmet and said to
Jorda, "Right now, I don't see how we can possibly keep it under
control."
     "We have to figure a way out," the Chief Fireman retorted with no
sympathy, "Unchecked, this thing'll spread through this area and take
out the rest of the energizers and all the solonite tanks.  When that
happens, we're all dead.  So the sooner you stop complaining and get
back to that hose, the better."
     With nothing else to say, the lead fireman shrugged in dejection
and went back to his hose.
     As Jorda continued to keep track of the too-slow progress, another
fireman came up to him and tugged his shoulder.
     "Sir," he said, "Colonel Tigh needs an update on the situation."
     "Tell him he'll get one in a few centons," Jorda said above the
roar of the flames.  "I'll try to get to the bridge a little later."
     He looked back at the forward end and suddenly heard one of the
lead firemen shout, "Watch it, get down!"
     Jorda and the rest of the firemen instinctively ducked and a brief
sheet of flame passed over their heads.
     As the Chief Fireman cautiously got back to his feet, he idly
wondered if the ship would already be gone before he could keep his
appointment.

     
     In the Rejuvenation Center, a light cloud of foul-smelling smoke
still filled the room as Boomer worked his way to the main entrance. 
Around him, some of the more seriously injured were moaning in pain.
     He picked up the telecom that tied-in to the internal
communications network throughout the ship.  He heard only silence.  He
punched some of the buttons on the wall unit, but there was still
nothing.  The continued silence meant that the unit was damaged beyond
all repair.
     At the other end of the room, Athena helped attend to an injured
warrior who'd been hit by a flying piece of debris.  Blood oozed from a
wound above the warrior's eye.
     Instantly, Boxey volunteered to help and applied a small strip of
cloth that he'd torn from the game table, to the wound.
     "Hold it tighter, until the bleeding stops," his aunt gently
motioned.
     Athena then got to her feet and took a look around the room. 
Except for the game table at her end, which had been more solidly
constructed than any other in the room, all the other tables had been
upended and tossed about.  There wasn't much about the room
recognizable from the cheerful center of recreation and entertainment
it had been only moments before.
     Slowly, she shook her head in stunned amazement. 
     "I may never take another furlon again," she murmured to herself.


     Outside the Rejuvenation Center, the fire had already rapidly
spread throughout the corridor.  Flames covered the walls on almost all
sides.
     At the far end, where the flames were not as thick, one of the
other compartment doors slowly opened and seven warriors who'd taken
refuge in a storage area for spare uniforms when the attack had began
stumbled out.  Six of them immediately headed for the turbo-lift ten
feet away that would get them off the fire deck, but the seventh, an
imposing, muscular member of the Colonial Security unit named Sergeant
Castor, who had earlier left the Rejuvenation Center after losing two
games to Boxey, frantically motioned them to stop.
     "There are people trapped in the Rejuvenation Center!" he shouted,
"We've got to get that door open there, and let them out before it's
too late!"
     "Castor, have you lost your fracking mind?" Sergeant Lepus,
another member of the Security unit shouted back, "There isn't time for
that.  We've got to get off this deck!"
     "Don't you understand, I'd just come out of there!" Castor
retorted, "Boomer's in there, and so are the Commander's daughter and
grandson!"
     "You can't make it!"
     "I'm gonna try!  Hold the lift as long as you can!"
     Lepus watched in horror as Castor stumbled down the smoke and
flame filled corridor.  The other warriors frantically tugged at him
and motioned him to shut the lift doors, but he turned around and
barked, "I'm giving him twenty microns to wise up, turn around and come
back!"
     Sure enough, twenty microns later, Castor was stumbling back
toward the lift.  His uniform was blackened in several spots, and
scorch and burn marks lines his face.
     "It's no use," he said in dejection, "I can't get to them."
     Lepus dragged his fellow guard in and closed the turbo-lift doors
shut.
     

     "Galactica bridge this is Blue Leader," Apollo's voice was more
subdued than it had been for a while, "Port landing bay is destroyed. 
Blue and Red Squadrons will land in the starboard bay.  The other
squadrons will stay out and keep watch."
     "Affirmative, Apollo," Tigh said, "We'll keep two squadrons out on
a rotating basis.  You're cleared to land."
     "Colonel," Apollo hesitated slightly before asking his next
question, "What can you tell me about my father?"
     The executive officer was stoic, "Dr. Salik took him to the Life
Station a few centons ago.  You'll get better information from him."
     Apollo skipped a beat before continuing, "How's the situation
inside?"
     "It's still too vague," he said, "I should get a full report from
Jorda in a little bit.  But it doesn't look good, Apollo."
     "I figured as much.  As soon as I'm aboard, I'll do what I can to
help."
     "We'll need it," there was no flippancy in Tigh's voice as he shut
his headset off.
     Just then, Omega came up to the executive officer carrying a
hastily drawn-up clipboard.
     "Colonel," he said, "Here's the report from Jorda.  Main Energizer
number one destroyed.  Number two now operating at maximum capacity. 
Boraton Mist Control Center destroyed."
     Tigh noticeably winced, "You mean they have to use nothing but the
secondary units to tap into the main boraton storage tanks?"
     "I'm afraid so," Omega nodded and continued, "The fire's out of
control in Alpha Deck, Beta and Gamma sections.  All personnel have
been evacuated from the fire areas, except for those in the
Rejuvenation Center.  It's been cut-off."
     "How many in there?" Tigh asked.
     "About twenty," Omega's expression became more grave before he
went on, "Including Boomer, Athena, and the commander's grandson."
     The executive officer was clearly stunned by this news.  For a
moment, he was unable to say anything in response.
     "Okay Omega," he finally said, "Keep me posted."
     As Tigh made his way over to another console and saw the
indication that Apollo's viper was aboard, the thought of having to
talk to him again suddenly made him feel very sick.


     After giving up on the telecom for the last time, Boomer slowly
made his way back to the other end of the room where Athena and Boxey
were still comforting the warrior with the wounded eye.
     "Did you find out what happened?" the edge of childlike enthusiasm
that was always present in Boxey's voice was noticeably absent this
time.
     "No, Boxey," Boomer shook his head, "The telecom's dead."
     "That's not all," Athena said grimly, "The first aid supplies have
been destroyed too."
     "Great," Boomer rolled his eyes, "What else could possibly
happen?"
     Just then, the sound of Muffit barking caught their attention. 
The daggit was in front of the main door, and an even thicker smoke was
starting to creep underneath into the room.
     "I had to ask," Boomer shook his head in disbelief, "Athena, break
out the life masks."
     She shook her head and flipped him a battered and totally useless
mask, "I checked them too.  They were also destroyed with the first aid
supplies."
     Boomer fingered it for a brief instant and then tossed it aside in
disgust.
     "Felgercarb," he whispered, "There's got to be something we can
do."
     But at the moment, no ideas were coming to him.
     He cast another glance at the door.  The smoke coming in was
getting more and more thick, and he knew that he had very little time
to think of something.


     "Watch it!"  Jorda shouted again over the roar of the flames,
"It's going to flare again.  Get down!"
     Once again, Jorda, Stone and the two firemen up front, were forced
to duck in order to escape being consumed by another belch of flame.
     Stone, the fireman at the pump station shook his head, "There
might as well be a fracking timetable for those flare-ups.  We're not
making any headway at all."
     "You're right," the Chief Fireman conceded, "Get another unit
ready to fall back on the next station.  I'm not sure how much longer
we can keep manning this one."
     Jorda took another look at the blaze.  For a brief instant, his
mind went back thirty yahrens to his days at the Colonial Academy when
he'd first learned his trade, and how his aged instructor had kept him
up for nights on end with intricate descriptions of how a fire could
break out aboard a warship.  Nothing that wise old instructor had
taught him was of any use to the situation that now confronted him. 
The irony of it almost made him want to laugh.
     "I've got to send Tigh another report," he said, "I'll be back
here as soon as I can."
     "The fire may beat you to it," Stone said.
     As he walked away, Jorda finally let out that mirthless chuckle
he'd been suppressing.


     Cautiously, Boomer ran his hand over the main door.
     "Forget about going out through here," he said to Athena, "Even if
the fire wasn't as bad as I know it is out there, the automatic lock's
in place and there's no point trying to open it."
     "So what do we do?" she asked.
     Boomer drew himself up and spoke to the crowd of twenty, "Okay,
listen up.  Everyone over to the other side of the compartment.  Move."
     Athena calmly took hold of another injured warrior and guided him
over to the other side.  The other non-injured followed her lead and
did the same.
     As soon as everyone had moved over, Boomer began a critical
examination of the rear door that led to the Rejuvenation Center's main
storage compartment.
     "Frack," he grunted, "The impact must have twisted the bulkhead
just enough to jam the door."
     Athena uneasily looked behind her as the smoke continued to seep
in, "What are the chances of the other door holding?"
     Boomer shook his head, "About as much as the Cylons throwing me a
birthday party."
     "So what do we do then?"
     The pilot took out a screwdriver from his pocket.
     "If I can use this to get this door open," he immediately started
to go to work on the control panel, "We can get into the storage
compartment and close it behind us.  There should be some more
lifemasks in there."
     "You're going to use that?" a dubious note entered Athena's voice.
     "Well Athena," Boomer remained nonchalant as he unscrewed the
panel, "It doesn't show in my file, but when I was a kid on Caprica, I
hotlinked more hovermobiles than there are doors on this ship."
     For the first time in a while, a faint smile etched across
Athena's mouth.
     "And all this time, when I first met you at the Academy, I thought
you were the honest one, and only Starbuck had the dark secrets in his
locker."
     "Hey, somebody had to empathize with him," Boomer carefully took
the panel off, "The only difference between him and me, is that I left
all my bad habits behind at the Academy."
     "Yes," the faint smile faded from her face, "He still has a lot of
bad habits."
     Boomer paused briefly to look at her indifferent expression.
     "Sorry," he went back to the panel which was now exposing its
wiring, "I'd forgotten that you and Starbuck are practically a dead
item."
     "Probably for the best," she then changed the subject back to the
issue at hand, "If the fire gets through the main door though, won't it
get through this one?"
     "By that time, we'll all be through into the next compartment."
     "Ah," light slowly dawned on her, "And from there, to the next
one, and the next one after that."
     "Right."
     "How long until you get this one open?"
     Boomer let out a sigh, "Well, if this were a hovermobile, I could
tell you to the micron.  With this thing, I just don't know."
     Athena took another glance at the smoke coming under the main
door.  The foul-smelling cloud was growing ominously thicker.


     One-by-one, the vipers from Blue and Red Squadrons landed in the
undamaged starboard landing bay.  When they all emerged from their
cockpits, few of them were in much of a mood for talking to each other.
     As Sheba slowly walked toward the turbo-lift, Starbuck caught up
to her.
     "Sheba," he said, "I didn't get a chance to say it out there, but
thanks again for saving us.  That was one great piece of precision
flying."
     "Just did what I had to do," she said.
     "Yeah," there was a slightly dejected note in Starbuck's voice,
"If I had a little more of your discipline, maybe I would have gotten
that other one."
     "It's not your fault," Sheba instantly sounded reassuring as they
walked toward the turbo-lift, "Wouldn't Boomer normally have been
flying alongside you?"
     "He was on furlon and probably wound up stuck in the Officers Club
or the Rejuvenation Center," Starbuck said, "But that's still no excuse
for me."
     "Forget it," she said quickly, "The sooner we get focused on
saving this ship, the better."
     The normally brash lieutenant allowed himself a smile, "You're
right."
     Starbuck then glanced down at the helmet Sheba was carrying and
noticed immediately the equine-logo of the Pegasus.
     "Tough to let go, isn't it?"
     Sheba had all but forgotten she was carrying it, and when she
stopped to look at it too, she let out a matter-of-fact sigh.
     "Yeah, it is in a lot of ways," she said, "But you know something
Starbuck?  After taking part in that battle, and flying with all of
you, I think I can put this thing aside.  The next time I go out, I'm
going to be wearing the helmet that was issued me as a new Galactica
pilot."
     As the turbo-lift doors opened, Starbuck smiled and patted her on
the shoulder in a sign of fraternal respect for a fellow warrior.
     "Glad to have you on the team."


     Apollo had gone straight to the Life Station after landing his
viper.  When he reached the center, he found a scene that could only be
described as chaotic.  There were well over two dozen people being
treated for varying degrees of burns, while another group that had been
injured by blast debris had been placed in life pods.
     He saw Cassiopeia treating one of the burn victims and went up to
her.
     "Where is he?" he demanded in a low tone.
     The blonde med-tech uneasily pointed to the other end of the room,
where Dr. Salik was hunched over another life pod.  In it, Apollo could
see his father, lying with several tubes attached to his body.
     He carefully made his way through all the din of activity over to
Salik, who was talking reassuringly to Adama.
     "The...Galactica?" the commander's voice was still a thick,
croaking whisper.
     "Took some casualties and some damage," the middle-aged doctor
spoke casually, "But nothing that can't be fixed.  Including you.  Now
in the meantime, you get some rest."
     Salik then rose and promptly led Apollo away from Adama's life
pod.
     "Tigh said you were coming, so I'll give it to you straight," the
doctor's voice was less reassuring than it had been when he'd been
speaking to Adama, "A piece of the ceiling bulkhead fell on top of him,
and some small pieces of debris went right inside his body."
     "How is he now?"
     "His life signs have stabilized a bit, but he's very weak.  As
soon as this whole situation is over, I'm going to have to operate
because there's one fragment of debris lodged near the wall of his
heart.  It's very bad."
     "Then operate now," Apollo said as if it were the most obvious
thing in the world, but Salik drew himself up to a posture of gentle
reproachment.
     "Now you listen to me, son," the doctor's voice was low, but
pointed, "There's no way I'm going to open up his or anyone else's
chest under these conditions."
     "Why the frack not?" Apollo softly retorted.
     "The fire has already destroyed one energizer," Salik held his
ground, "And if the other one goes, as well it may, all of the
equipment in the operating room will go out."
     The commander's son lowered his head slightly as he realized the
implications of what Salik was saying.
     "I don't think you want me poking around your father's heart with
a laser scalpel at a time like that."
     "No," Apollo nodded, "You're right."
     "I promise you though, as soon as I get word that Energizer two is
safe from any danger, I'll get started right away."
     "Can I at least talk to him?" there was an almost pleading edge to
Apollo's question.
     "You can," Salik said, "But be brief."
     The doctor moved off to another end of the room, while Apollo
slowly made his way over to the life pod where the battered Adama lay.
     Never before, had he been forced to confront the scene of his
father like this.  All his life, his father had been a tower of
unshakable and seemingly indestructible strength to him.  Since Adama
had never suffered injuries as serious as this, Apollo's childhood had
been spared all the traumas that other children of warriors had endured
whenever their fathers were injured seriously in battle.
     With trepidation, he reached Adama's life pod and looked down at
him.  His father could only move his dilated eyes to indicate his
awareness that his son was there.
     "Apollo," the voice was still that awful sounding rasp.
     "I'm sorry," his son whispered and choked back the emotion in his
voice, "I tried to get him sooner, but he was too far ahead of us.  If
I'd scanned them all for solonite in their tanks when the battle
started, I'm sure I could have gotten him sooner."
     "It wasn't...your fault," a reassuring note came through Adama's
raspy whisper, "You...all did your best."
     "Can I do anything for you?" again, it was a struggle to get the
words out.
     "You're...doing it right now," his father's eyes again glanced in
his direction, "Just...by being here."
     Apollo wished he could reach inside and squeeze his hand, but knew
he couldn't because of the pod's sterile chamber.
     Just then, Cassiopeia came up to him and also looked inside the
pod.
     "I...want to see...Athena..and Boxey again," Adama went on.
     "I'm sorry," Cassiopeia said gently to them both, "The doctor says
no more visitors."
     "Okay," Apollo nodded, "I'll talk to you later, Father."
     The med-tech gently guided him away from the pod.
     "You know something," a mirthless smile briefly crossed Apollo's
face, "I can remember growing up, how my mother always used to tell me
every time he had to go off on a mission, that I had to be prepared for
something like this to happen.  But he always came back without any
trouble, and I never had to give it a micron's thought.  I guess,
that's what makes the whole sight of him there even more difficult to
take."
     "The Lords have always watched over him, Apollo," Cassiopeia spoke
with a soothing aura, "They're not through with him yet."
     "Yeah," Apollo sighed and nodded, "I hope so."
     "I'll stay with him."
     "Okay," he drew himself up, "I'll be on the bridge."
     As Apollo neared the door that left the Life Station, he passed
another warrior who had serious burns on his face and a singed uniform.
     "Captain," Sergeant Castor called over, "I'm sorry.  I tried to
get them out of there."
     Apollo froze in the doorway and looked at him, "What are you
talking about?"
     "In the Rejuvenation Center," Castor took a breath, "Your sister
and son were still in there, along with Boomer.  I tried to get down
the corridor and open it up, but the whole area was cut-off by the
fire.  I'm sorry," he lowered his head, "I just couldn't get through
it."
     Apollo looked as if he'd taken a blow to the chin.  To learn this
information on top of everything else was almost too much to handle.
     He dashed out of the Life Station, and stopped in the corridor,
closing his eyes in anguish and leaning his head back against the wall.
     The cruel irony of what he'd been thinking a moment earlier about
how he'd suffered no childhood traumas over terrible things happening
to his father suddenly seemed even more cruel.  Now it seemed as though
his entire adulthood was to be spent making up for all that.  Zac.  His
mother.  Serina.  And now, the prospect of losing all the family he had
left.
     He felt like screaming every single profane epithet he could think
of.
     It took a long, moment of agonized contemplation before he could
find the strength to resume walking to the bridge.


     No sooner had Jorda returned from sending his latest update to
Tigh that he found the situation in the compartment that had been
uneasily status quo for too long now, was taking a serious turn for the
worse.
     "We can't hold it here any more!" the lead fireman shouted as he
struggled to keep aiming his hose at the inferno.
     Jorda banged his thick-gloved hand against the hot wall of the
corridor in frustration.  The amount of boraton they'd been pouring on
the blaze, theoretically should have put out a fire twice the size of
the one they were confronting.  But as this fire was proving, all the
theories they'd operated under for yahrens were fast becoming
irrelevant.
     Finally, he forced himself to put aside his professional pride and
admit the obvious.
     "Stone!" Jorda called over to the fireman manning the pump, "Is
that team at the other station in place?"
     "They're ready," Stone replied.
     "All right then," he motioned to the lead firemen, "Pull back
slowly.  We'll see what we can do from there.  I'm going to have to get
topside, and see if Tigh's got any new ideas on what we can do."


     Tigh felt only a slight trace of relief that Apollo had already
been told about the situation in the Rejuvenation Center, so at least
he'd been spared the distasteful task of telling him about it.  But as
he was fast discovering, having to explain that there was not much that
could be done about it, was no less distasteful either.
     "Are you sure there's nothing you can do?" Apollo asked for what
seemed like the tenth time to the executive officer.
     "I'm sorry, Apollo, we couldn't get to them," he said, "Even if
we'd been able to, it still wouldn't have been any good.  All the doors
surrounding the Rejuvenation Center are jammed." 
     "But there must be a way to find out if they're still alive,"
Apollo protested.
     "We can't," Tigh said as he stepped out of the way of a crewman
who was removing a portion of the collapsed ceiling bulkhead, "Internal
communications have been restored on this side of the fire.  Everything
on the port side, is still out."
     The executive officer started to move away, but Apollo gently
grabbed him by the shoulder.
     "Colonel," he said, "If they're alive, how long could they last?"
     Tigh sucked in his breath, "I don't know.  The fire is rapidly
consuming oxygen in that area.  Once it's gone, they'll have to use
their lifemasks.  And those would theoretically give them an extra
centar, if in fact they have them all.  But as the way things stand,
Apollo, the ship may have even less time than they do."
     Just then, they noticed the exhausted Jorda, his fire uniform
covered with scorch marks entering the bridge.
     "Come on, let's see how things are now," the executive officer
said as he and Apollo made his way over to him.


     Slowly, Boomer continued to work on the control panel to the
storage compartment.  The wires were now exposed, and he carefully
calculated the intricate areas that connected them to the gear
mechanism.  There could be no room for error on this.  He knew very
well that one wrong application could short out the motor to the door's
gear mechanism and leave it permanently frozen in the closed position.
     As he kept working, he refused to look behind at the thickening
cloud of smoke coming under the door.  The last thing he needed was any
sense of panic to distract him.
     Finally, he sized up the wires and decided that everything was in
place.  He wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to face the crowd.
     "All right, we're set," he said, "When this door opens, if it
opens, we get Boxey and the injured in first and then the rest of you. 
But make it fast, because I don't know how long I can keep it open."
     "Boomer," Athena motioned her head toward the main door, "It's
getting worse."
     The warrior sucked in his breath and took hold of the wires, "If
this were a hovermobile, she'd start on cue," he said under his breath.
     Carefully, he joined the wires together.  And then, a shower of
sparks forced Boomer to let go.
     "Frack," he whispered.  His worst nightmare about a wrong move
shorting out the gear mechanism may have just come true.  He tried
applying them again, but as he feared, nothing happened.
     For a long second, he stood there, trying to think of what he
could do.
     "Wait a micron, I think I've got it," he pulled out his
screwdriver again, "I may have just used the wrong wave bond for that
connection.  If I change that," he made a small adjustment to the
circuitry, "That should hopefully do it."
     "And if it doesn't?" Athena asked with a note of fear entering her
voice.
     He looked her in the eye, "Then the motor's already shorted out,
and there's no way it'll ever open.  This is the last hand we can play
on this gamble, Athena."
     "Hurry," she whispered as she turned away and looked back at the
rising smoke cloud, "Hurry."
     Carefully, Boomer once again brought the two main wires together.
     Another shower of sparks erupted.  But this time, the crackling
sound was followed by the reassuring whoosh of the compartment door
sliding open.
     "Come on, hurry up!" Boomer barked as he continued holding the
wires together.
     The others got to their feet and with some helping the wounded
people, began to file in.
     "Move!" it was the loudest command he'd ever given.
     Athena quickly pushed Boxey and his robot pet through the doorway,
but still stayed by Boomer's side.
     "Let's go, Athena!" he ordered her, "Get moving!"
     "Boomer, what about you?" she asked with concern, "The door will
shut as soon as you let go of those wires, won't it?"
     "Just get going, I'll make it!"
     She reluctantly nodded and went through, leaving Boomer alone in
the room.
     Boomer's hands almost slipped, causing the door to partially shut
and go back open.  He looked back and saw the cloud increasing.
     "Come on, Boomer," Athena motioned, "Get in, now."
     Boomer sucked in his breath and sized up the opening.  He had to
time his jump just right.  If he wasn't quick enough, the door would
close on him and leave him trapped in the room.
     Slowly, he began a mental countdown from three.
     Just as he began his leap, the main door suddenly exploded against
the onslaught of the inferno outside.
     Incredibly enough, the force of the blast speeded his momentum
forward, and he tumbled through to the floor of the storage compartment
just as the door slammed shut.
     "Thank God," Athena let out a sigh of relief.
     Boomer slowly got to his feet, and felt something sticky in his
hip pocket.
     "Well Boxey," he said sheepishly as he came over to the little boy
and pulled the object out, "It looks like I, ah, mashed your mushy."
     "It's okay," Boxey managed to weakly smile as he impulsively threw
his arms around Boomer in relief, "Dad said I'd had too much anyway."
     Boomer let out a chuckle as he tossed the ruined candy aside and
reciprocated the light hug.
     At the other end of the compartment, Athena quickly checked one of
the storage bins.  Her shoulders sagged in disappointment when she saw
what was inside.
     "Boomer," she called over to him.
     Boomer gave Boxey a pat on the head and made his way over to
Athena.  Her expression was grave.
     "The telecom's dead in this compartment too," she said, "And there
are only five lifemasks."
     "Great," he gritted his teeth, "Okay we'll save them for later and
take turns with them."
     "Maybe we should try the next compartment, now."
     Boomer nodded, "Good idea," he went over to the door on the other
side and checked the circuits.  Then, he carefully placed his hand on
the door.
     "Ow!" Boomer felt an intense heat that made him pull his hand
away.
     "Are you okay?" Boxey came up and asked with concern.
     "Oh boy," Boomer looked about the cramped confines of the room as
he massaged his hand to ease the pain, "Now I know what it's like to
get stranded in the bottom of the Piscean Canyon.  The fire's hemmed us
in on all sides."
     "We're trapped then," Athena bit her lip.
     "There's got to be another way," he said defiantly, "There has to
be."
     "Boomer?" Boxey's voice quivered slightly.
     He looked down at him and saw that the little boy was trembling.
     "Hey," he knelt beside him and squeezed his hand, "Don't worry,
Boxey.  It'll be okay."
     "Am I gonna see my Dad again?"
     Boomer noticed a tear forming in his eye, and he gently wiped it
away.
     "Course you will, Boxey," he said gently, "Right now, I'll bet you
he's doing all that he can to make sure that he sees you again." 
     He then smiled reassuringly, "Now right now, you can make your
father proud by going back there and helping those people like the good
warrior you are.  Okay?"
     Boxey dimly nodded and slowly made his way back to the other end
of the room with Muffit trailing him.
     "Thanks," Athena said, "I should have done that myself, but I
don't think I would have known what to say."
     Boomer said nothing as he slowly got back to his feet.
     She let out a sigh and leaned her head against the wall, "I'm just
not cut-out to be his substitute mother, Boomer.  I just can't...relate
to him the way a full-time parent should."
     "You shouldn't be expected to," Boomer said gently.
     "I know," Athena said, "But the way things stand, I don't have
much of a choice.  I don't think Apollo's ever going to let himself get
sealed again."
     He raised an eyebrow, "You really think so?"
     "I know so," her tone was gently emphatic, "He literally worships
Serina's memory.  If you want my honest opinion, Boomer, I think he has
some kind of secret death-wish."
     "What makes you think that?"
     "Boomer," she said, "Have you ever noticed that since Serina died,
Apollo has volunteered for every single dangerous mission that any
warrior could go on?"
     Boomer stopped to think for a moment.
     "Okay," he admitted, "But he's usually had me and Starbuck tagging
along with him.  I can assure you, I don't have any kind of deathwish,
and neither does Starbuck."
     "There's a difference," Athena said, "If you had a six yahren old
son, who'd already lost a parent, wouldn't you be just a little more
cautious about picking assignments that asked for a lot more than just
flying your viper and destroying Cylon fighters?"
     Boomer slowly nodded, "I probably would."
     "And another thing," she added, "With you and Starbuck, it's more
a case of following his lead.  You both think of Apollo the way you'd
think of your own brother, and its usually obvious that you're only
following him because you want to be there in case something were to
happen to him."
     "I admit that," Boomer said, "But I still don't think that means
it's any different with Apollo."
     "Tell me something Boomer," Athena said, "Have you ever known
Apollo to make any morbid jokes during one of those missions?"
     "No," he sighed, "Starbuck and I are usually the bad comedians
when it comes to that.  It's the only way to cover-up how..." he
trailed off and frowned as a thought suddenly popped in his head.
     "How scared to death you really feel?" Athena finished the
sentence for him, "But not Apollo.  With him, it's practically a
fatalistic approach to the whole thing."
     "Yeah," Boomer absently rubbed his chin, "Now that I think about
it, you may have something there."
     "I'm sure of it."
     "So why don't you tell him that?"
     "I can't," she sighed, "He'd never listen to me.  He'd probably
indignantly deny it, and say I was just being overprotective."
     "So who can tell him?" Boomer asked, "Me? Starbuck? The
Commander?"
     "No," she shook his head, "I don't think he'll realize it ever,
unless another woman falls in love with him someday and forces him to
confront it."
     Boomer was silent, as he began to idly look about the compartment
again.  At the other end, Boxey had resumed playing with Muffit.
     "For Boxey's sake, I hope Apollo finds that woman someday and
listens to her," Athena went on, "Until then, I don't think that boy is
going to have anything resembling stability."
     Something caught Boomer's attention in the corner of his eye.  He
turned his head and saw that it was the ventilation duct in the side of
the wall.
     He then looked back at Boxey and Muffit and his eyes seemed to
light up.
     "Boomer?" Athena frowned.
     "Athena," he said calmly, "I think there may be a way out of the
Piscean Canyon after all."

                                        Chapter Three

     "Okay, Jorda," Tigh said as he and Apollo came up to the Chief
Fireman, "How's it look?"
     Jorda exhaled slightly and wiped his forehead with the back of his
hand, "Is there a computer running that can give me the blueprints for
the ship?"
     "I think so," the executive officer nodded, "Over here."
     The three of them went over to the relatively undamaged side of
the bridge that had gotten all of its consoles back to a semblance of
order.  Apollo sat down at the terminal and punched several buttons so
that a detailed overview of the Galactica now appeared on the monitor.
     "Here's the situation," Jorda said as he moved his finger over the
image, "From the port landing bay, and the compartment beyond, the fire
separates, advancing here through Beta section, towards Energizer Two,
and here through Gamma section."
     "Toward the solium storage tanks," Tigh was grim-faced, "All
top-loaded in the last two days since our little triumph at Gomorrah."
     "There's no getting around it," Jorda was blunt, "If it reaches
them, we go up like a supernova."
     "And pretty much the same thing if it gets to the Energizer
first," the executive officer said.
     "The only difference would be the size of the explosion," the
Chief Fireman nodded, "If it was just one or the other, I might still
have enough men to barely contain the fire, even with the Boraton Mist
Control Center gone.  But because the fire's headed in both directions,
I've had to divide up the teams equally, and they're just not enough. 
All they've been able to do is slow up the progress in both sections,
but they can't hold them back indefinitely."
     "Transferring them all to one section at a time wouldn't do any
good?" Tigh asked.
     "No sir," Jorda said, "Do that, and the section that isn't being
treated accelerates and we go up even sooner."
     Apollo's eyes suddenly lit up as he continued looking at the
blueprints.
     "Colonel, take a look at this," his voice took on a slightly
exhilarated tone, "This duct system interconnects the Rejuvenation
Center with some other areas of the ship, including right here on the
bridge!" he rose from his seat and went back to where the bridge duct
was locating.
     "I'm sorry, Captain," Jorda said as he and Tigh came up to him,
"These ducts are too small for a person to get through."
     The executive officer hunched over Apollo, eyeing the duct
himself, "An adult, yes.  But what about a small boy?"
     "No," Apollo shook his head as he continued to look inside the
shaft, "Boomer would never take a chance like that with Boxey's life."
     He then looked back as another idea popped into his head, "He
could send Muffy."
     Tigh slowly shook his head, "It wouldn't do any good."
     "Why not?" Apollo demanded.
     "I'll show you," Tigh motioned him back to the computer, while an
increasingly impatient Jorda followed them both.
     The executive officer sat down and flicked several switches that
brought up more detailed blueprints on the screen.
     "That duct system leads in eight or nine different directions,
terminating in more than thirty compartments, only one of which is here
on the bridge," Tigh's voice was final, "The chances of a daggit, even
one built by a genius like Wilker, coming out here are less than
remote."
     "Then send men to the other compartments," Apollo held his ground,
"Have them wait until Muffy shows up."
     Jorda decided to stop being patient, "And where do you suggest
these men come from, Captain?" he asked sharply, "In case you didn't
hear a word I was saying a centon ago, I barely have enough men to
slow-up the progress of both fires."
     "And I need every man on the bridge to try and get this ship back
to some semblance of working order," Tigh added pointedly, "The Life
Station is overloaded, the pilots must stay on alert in case the
baseship that sent out those fighters decides to come our way, and
you're telling me I should send thirty men to go wait for a daggit that
might not even be trying to get to here?"  He shook his head, "I'm
sorry, Apollo.  Even if I thought there was a chance, I still couldn't
do it."
     Apollo knew that Tigh was right, but he was now desperate to
keep-up his argument, "But they could still be alive, you can't just
leave them there!"
     "Apollo," the executive officer put a hand on his shoulder, "If
the fire reaches either Energizer Two or the solium tanks, the
Galactica is doomed.  All our resources must go to preventing that."
     "And as things stand, we can't prevent it," Jorda added, "The
oxygen in each compartment is drawing the fire deeper and deeper into
the ship like a magnet.  With these two arcs they're traveling in, the
only way we could stop it is by drowning the whole thing at once with
boraton."
     "Is there any way that could be done?" Tigh asked.
     "Right now, we can only tap into our boraton from these secondary
pump stations that can't do the job, because they can only be used in
limited areas.  Now if we had enough high pressure, we could
theoretically tap into enough to put it out in all areas but the
landing bay, but we still wouldn't be able to do anything in the
landing bay itself.  That's totally inaccessible to us."
     "If you were able to compensate for the high pressure and put it
out everywhere but the landing bay, would that be enough to at least
save the Galactica?"
     "No sir," Jorda shook his head, "It has to be smothered in all the
areas.  Each one feeds the other.  Leaving the landing bay untouched
would only amount to another stalling tactic."
     Apollo, who'd been listening intently to what the Chief Fireman
was saying, suddenly held up his hand.
     "Hold it, I've got an idea," he said, "We could replace the
turbo-lasers in three or four of our vipers with mega-pressure pumps
from the damaged energizer, fill them with boraton, and connect them to
the firing mechanism."
     "It would be like a strafing run," Tigh nodded with interest.
     "Exactly," the enthusiasm returned to Apollo's voice, "With four
of us making continuous runs, we could flood that bay with boraton."
     "Jorda?" Tigh looked at the Chief Fireman.
     "I never thought of the mega-pressure pumps," he rubbed his chin,
"I could use one of them to boost the pressure in the internal hose
system that feeds to all of the pump stations, and that would take care
of the fire in the other zones, but..." he trailed off.
     "But what?" Apollo demanded.
     "It hinges on using mega-pressure pumps from Energizer One, and
right now, I'm not even sure they're still intact.  The unit is in the
compartment to one side of where our front-line has been set-up, and we
haven't confirmed whether it was just destroyed by the blast, or
whether the fire's already taken that whole compartment out.  If it's
done that, then the mega-pressure pumps will have been destroyed or be
too damaged to make use of."
     "You've got to get to that compartment and have them retrieved,
now," Tigh said pointedly, "Those pumps are the only chance we have at
surviving."
     "We'd only need five men to get in there to carry them out in one
trip," Apollo said, "Can you get that area clear for just five centons,
or even a little less than that?"
     Jorda sucked in his breath, "It would mean diverting one unit
that's handling the fire arc headed for Energizer Two, but yes, I could
temporarily get that one area clear.  But you'd still need a small
explosive charge to get the door open."
     "We'll get one," Apollo said, "Have a couple fire suits sent to
the Officers Quarters, and we'll be down there in ten centons."
     "My men can handle this job, Captain," the Chief Fireman responded
firmly, "With all due respect, this falls under our training, not
yours."
     "But you need someone to set and place the charge, and that's
where you're going to need me, Jorda," Apollo stood firm.
     "Captain, there are quite a few men on this ship from Maintenance
with more training in setting explosive charges than you and the pilots
are," Jorda wasn't giving an inch either.
     "And where do you suggest those men come from?" Apollo deftly
threw back the Chief Fireman's earlier retort, "Especially since we'd
be wasting at least ten more centons trying to track them down."
     "Gentleman," Tigh coldly cut in, "That will be quite enough. 
Jorda, I'm afraid Apollo is right.  As long as he's here and ready,
you'll save a lot more time getting this whole thing in motion."
     The Chief Fireman knew when it was time to quit arguing, "Okay,
okay, come with me, Captain.  We'll stop by Ordnance and get the
charge, and one of my men will lend you his suit."


     Starbuck and Sheba had decided to check the activity on the bridge
when they ran into both Apollo and Jorda, who were leaving.
     "What's going on?" Starbuck asked his friend.
     "Follow us, and I'll fill you both in," Apollo said.
     A few centons later, as they stopped by the Ordnance section to
pick-up the explosive charge that would be needed, Apollo had finished
explaining the situation to them.  Not just the plan at hand, but the
situation in the Rejuvenation Center as well.
     "Apollo," Starbuck placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "You
know how good a man Boomer is.  If anything, you know he'll be doing
all he can to keep Athena and Boxey safe."
     "I know," Apollo simply nodded and then changed the tenor of his
voice to one that was pure business, "The two of you report to the
launch bay and get your vipers and Bojay's ready.  As soon as we get
the pumps retrieved, I'll join you and we can get started on the
strafing runs."
     Sheba looked at him in bewilderment, "Are you up to getting the
pumps and doing the strafing runs?"
     "As up as I've ever been," Apollo looked her in the eye, as he
opened the door to the Ordnance section and then turned back to the
Chief Fireman, "Jorda, you go ahead and have that fire suit ready."
     He nodded, "I'll have a full team waiting in the compartment
outside our front-line to help you.  Fireman Stone will give you
further instructions."
     Jorda disappeared down the corridor, while Apollo entered the
Ordnance room, leaving the other two warriors alone.
      As Sheba and Starbuck resumed walking in the direction of the
launch bay, the Pegasus veteran was still shaking her head in
amazement.
     "Is there anything he doesn't consider too big for him?"
     "Apollo?" Starbuck shrugged, "With all the missions he's dragged
me into, I don't think so."
     "He's either more courageous or foolish than I realized," Sheba
said as they reached the turbo-lift, "Someday, he's going to get
himself killed."
     Starbuck didn't respond.  There was a certain edge in Sheba's
voice that momentarily made him wonder about something.  He wondered if
the attention Apollo had been giving Sheba before the battle had
finally been noticed, and was starting to be reciprocated, ever so
slightly.
     But after the verbal dressing-down Apollo had given him, and
knowing how feisty Sheba's temper could be, he decided that it would be
a long time before he ever bothered to bring up that subject again.  


     As Apollo reached the compartment adjacent to where the fire-zone
began, four other firemen were already waiting for him.
     "Which of you is Fireman Stone?" Apollo asked.
     "That's me," Stone stepped forward, "And Firemen Jansen, Sanchez,
and Ezra.  I know we'd all like to say how much of an honor it is to be
working with a warrior like you, Captain, but the sooner we dispense
with pleasantries, the better."
     Apollo nodded, "Got my fire suit?"
     "Here it is," Stone tossed the silver garment and hood at him, "It
should provide enough protection if the room's already gone."
     Quickly, Apollo removed his flight jacket and slipped into the
thick coverall, "We'll use the lowest level charge with a thirty micron
delay on the door," he said as he tightened the straps, "As soon as
it's clear, we go in and try to recover all five pumps."
     "We've got tools in case we need to cut them away from the main
Energizer unit," Stone said, "Hopefully we won't need them.  It'll be a
lot better if we're still able to unhook them from their couplings."
     "What might happen if you have to cut them loose?" Apollo took the
hood and prepared to put it on.
     "A lot," Stone was blunt, "We could damage the seals, we could
accidentally pierce the skin on them, we could end up touching a live
wire that might be tangled up in them.  I don't have to tell you how
dangerous this is going to be Captain, especially since we'll be racing
against time.  The sooner we can get the auxiliary hoses we've brought
in for this back to their normal station in Gamma Section, the better."
     "Once we get the pumps, are they that difficult to carry?" the
young voice of Fireman Jansen asked.
     "No, they're a bit bulky, but one man can carry them, Jansen,"
Stone answered, "If there is a danger, it could come from the extra
boraton."
     Apollo frowned, "What do you mean?"
     "We're going to be saturating that zone with boraton so much, that
the floor is going to have some miserably wet and bad traction.  Our
boots are not designed for running in zones like that, so you'll have
to take your steps very carefully.  And keep in mind, that when we exit
the compartment and make our way back, there'll still be two boraton
hoses spraying in our faces the whole time.  Like I said, it's a race
against time, but we can't do any actual racing on our feet."
     "I understand,"  Apollo slipped his hood on and adjusted the
strap, "Okay, let's go."
     Stone cautiously opened the compartment door.  As soon it was open
a crack, Apollo instantly felt the rush of heat from the other side
even under his insulated garment.
     Once the door was open, Apollo had his first look at the fire.
Even in this section where it had not fully spread, it was worse than
anything he'd ever seen in more than ten yahrens of service aboard the
Galactica.
     Two additional teams of four firefighters had moved in on the
scene with extra hoses, waiting for Jorda to give the signal to start
concentrating their aim on the area by the compartment door that led to
the damaged Energizer.  At the moment, the fire had lapped ahead at a
relatively moderate pace.  It was only a short distance further back
from the compartment door though, that the intensity of the fire
switched from a moderate level, to that of a massive wall of flame.
     As soon as Jorda saw the five men enter from the next compartment,
he gestured his arm and gave the signal to start the additional hoses.
     Eight additional jets of boraton mist joined the four that had
already been going.  The level was so massive, that for a brief
instant, Apollo couldn't even see the door just twenty feet away.
     Jorda kept his arm in the air as an indicator for the hoses to
keep going.  It stayed that way for well over a minute.
     Finally, the Chief Fireman lowered his arm and shouted, "Okay,
auxiliary units only, cease!"
     The additional boraton jets stopped, and Apollo could see clearly
again.  For the first time, the fire around the area of the door was
out.
     "All right, Captain, move!" Jorda shouted.
     Apollo took a breath and made his way through the two streaks of
boraton still operating.
     He briefly forgot Stone's warning and almost lost his traction on
the wet floor, which nearly caused the charge to slip out of his hand. 
Quickly, he managed to regroup himself and took more careful steps
before he finally reached the door.
     As Apollo placed it, he cast a glance down toward the next
compartment, where the fire was raging more fiercely, and was already
slowly creeping its way back toward him, now that the auxiliary units
had been shut off.
     He flicked the switch and started dashing back to where he'd come
from.  Once again, the traction caused him to stumble, but this time,
Apollo prepared himself by going into a tumble motion.  Across the wet
surface, he managed to literally roll his way back to the feet of the
two fireman at the main hoses.
     "Everybody, pull back down the corridor!" he shouted as he
hurriedly got to his feet. 
     On cue, the firemen all fell back an additional thirty feet from
the door so they'd be safe from the explosion.
     Apollo looked back and felt the tension rising as the fire seemed
to draw closer to the door.  If it reached it before the charge went
off, the combination could be lethal.
     He cast an impatient glance at his chronometer.  Never before had
thirty microns seemed to last so long.
     Finally, the puff of smoke erupted as the charge blew, and the
compartment door came off its track.  At the same time, the fire at the
other end drew to within ten feet of the now-open door.
     "Move back in," Jorda motioned to the lead firemen who reassumed
their original position.
     "Recovery team, let's move!" Apollo barked to Stone, Jansen and
the other two firemen.
     The five of them made their way carefully through the two jets of
boraton, and entered the blasted opening.
     The instant they were in, Jorda motioned the auxiliary teams back
in to keep the area contained.


     "What are you thinking, Boomer?" Athena asked as he continued
staring at the vent.
     "That duct system leads to the bridge," he said, "And at least
thirty other compartments well outside the fire areas."
     "They're too small for us."
     "Yeah," Boomer nodded, "But not for a daggit."
     He went over to the other end of the room where Boxey was applying
another bandage to one of the wounded.  The robot daggit was right
beside him.
     "Boxey," Boomer said gently, "You've been doing a great job
helping these people.  But I think right now, it's time we let Muffy
try and do something that will help all of us."
     "He can do anything," the little boy looked up and smiled with
pride, "What do you want him to do?"
     "You see that?" Boomer pointed to the duct, "If we let Muffy go
crawling through to there, he'll reach one of the other areas where
there'll be people who can send more lifemasks for us, and help get us
out of here a lot sooner."
     "Will it be dangerous?"
     "No," Boomer said casually, "For other daggits, maybe, but not
him."
     Boxey nodded, "If it means I can see my Dad and my grandfather
again, then let him do it."
     "Okay," Boomer said with a great deal of relief that he'd been
able to convince him so easily, "Muffy come here."
     "Go on, Muffy," Boxey gave his pet a gentle nudge, "Do what Boomer
says."
     The robot let out a yelp and made its way over.  Boomer carefully
took it and gingerly placed it in the vent opening.
     With one hand still on the daggit, he placed a hastily scribbled
note inside one of its metallic collars.
     "Okay Muffy," he gave it another push, "Go bring some help back to
us.  Make your owner proud of you."
     With another mechanical bark, Muffit moved slowly down the duct
passageway.  Boomer and Athena kept their eyes fixed on it until the
daggit turned a corner and disappeared from view.
     "All right," Boomer sighed and settled back against the wall, "Now
comes the tough part.  Waiting to see if he gets to someone."
     Athena nodded and then frowned as she took a cautious sniff of the
air.
     "Boomer," she said, "It might be a good idea to start using the
masks we already have."
     Boomer took a breath.  There was a thinner quality to the air, and
the foul-smell that had filled the Rejuvenation Center was now evident
inside the Storage Compartment.
     "I think you're right," he got to his feet and reached for the
five lifemasks from the storage bin.


     Apollo was the first one inside the Energizer Room.  To his
relief, he saw that it had only been hit by the shock wave of the
explosion and that the fire had so far avoided the room.
     When Stone entered, he took a look at the remains of the Energizer
unit and let out a low whistle.  The tall, sleek piece of equipment had
literally been blasted into pieces.  Scorch marks blackened what had
been the top of the machinery.  There was virtually nothing about it
that was recognizable.
     "My, my, my," the fireman said in disbelief, "What a fracking
mess."
     Apollo looked about, trying to find the mega-pressure pumps that
ordinarily connected to the main unit and fed into various locations in
the wall, from which power was supplied to the ship.
     "No good, Captain," Stone said matter-of-factly, "We'll have to
pull some of this junk away.  All right men, let's get to it!" he
barked at Jansen, Ezra and Sanchez.
     Together, the five men started pulling away the fallen debris
surrounding the main unit.  Apollo was gritting his teeth and grunting
the loudest of them as he struggled with the debris.  He finally had to
stop and rest, even as the other four continued to pull.
     "Not your usual line of work, is it, Captain?" Stone said above
the effort he was still putting into it.
     Apollo looked up at him from his sitting position on the floor
where he was catching his breath, "Not by a longshot, Stone."     
     "Sir," Sanchez blurted, "I think I see them!"
     "Keep at it," Stone said as they continued pulling more debris
away, "Keep at it.  There!"
     Apollo got to his feet, "All five of them?"
     "All five," Fireman Ezra said, "And from the looks of it, they're
all still attached to their main couplings."
     "Terrific," Stone said, "Just unscrew them and they'll be ready to
go.  We just saved ourselves some more time."
     Apollo came back to them and went to work with the rest of them on
detaching the bulky pumps from the devastated remains of the Energizer
unit.  Some of them had blackish marks on them. but it was clear that
none of them had been punctured.
     As he finished unscrewing his pump, Stone looked about and was
still taken aback by the level of the damage throughout the room, "Tell
me something, Captain.  How come one of our vipers never gets to do
this kind of thing to a basestar?"
     Apollo looked up and smiled wryly at Stone as he finished
unscrewing another, "Did you sleep through Gomorrah or something,
Stone?"
     "I was thinking of damage, not destruction, Captain," Stone
returned it as he picked up one of the pumps, "Just once, I'd like to
envision a squadron of Cylons trying to do this kind of work."
     "That'd be a nice sight," Jansen chimed in as he took another one,
"They'd all melt before they could put the fire out."
     Just then, they heard a loud crash come from above their heads. 
The five of them looked up to the upper walkway of the Energizer room
and saw that the compartment door on the walkway had blown open. 
Immediately, the fire lapped on to the walkway from the room beyond.
     "That's from the compartment next to the landing bay," Stone
gritted his teeth, "Looks as though we made it in here just in time. 
Another five centons, and these pumps would have been gone altogether."
     Ezra and Sanchez then finished with the other pumps, and with
that, Apollo and the four firemen made their way back toward the open
door.
     Stone stuck his head out first and gestured his arm as a signal to
Jorda to have the auxiliary pumps quit.  Immediately, the level of the
boraton spray slackened to the level of just the two main hoses.
     The five men slowly made their way out into the corridor.  Apollo
briefly craned his neck backward.  The large wall of flame at the other
end was moving forward again, now that the intensity of the boraton had
been lessened.
     Suddenly, despite his slow steps, Jansen slipped on the wet floor
and lost his footing.  He crashed to the surface and the pump he was
carrying, clattered off to one side.
     "Kill the rest of that boraton!" Apollo shouted, "Kill it now!"
     "She's about ready to flare again!" Jorda shouted back, "We can't
afford to kill it or else it'll take all of you out!"
     Apollo looked back at the young fireman on the floor who was
clutching his leg in pain.  With frustration, he trudged his way
forward through the boraton spray and finally, after almost two
centons, made it back to where Jorda and the others were stationed. 
Stone, Sanchez and Ezra followed.
     "I'm going back for him," Apollo said as he looked back at the
writhing form of Jansen.
     "No, let me do it," Stone pushed him aside, "This is part of our
job, Captain, not yours.  You get those pumps into the next compartment
and get them to the launch bay."
     Before Apollo could protest, Stone was struggling with the bad
traction to make his way back to the injured Jansen.
     Reluctantly, Apollo turned away from the scene and with several
others, started clearing the four recovered pumps into the next
compartment.
     Once they were safely in, Apollo came back out and saw that Stone
had reached Jansen and was slowly carrying him back.  The pump he'd
dropped still lay on the floor.
     Jorda had been concentrating on the scene at the far end of the
compartment, and without any warning shouted, "Get down, it's going to
flare!"
     And then, he, Apollo and the two firemen with the hoses ducked as
a wall of flame from the far end of the compartment belched forward and
shot over their heads for a brief instant.
     When it was finally safe to get up, the Chief Fireman's eyes
widened in sick horror.
     "Oh frack," he whispered, "Frack, felgercarb and shit."
     Apollo looked and suddenly felt sick.  Because of Jansen's injured
leg, Stone had been unable to get down.  The wall of flame had crashed
directly into both men with full force, and not even their insulated
suits could do a thing to protect them.
     "I'm sorry," Apollo said to him with stunned regret, as he tried
to connect that horrible sight with the two men he had met only centons
ago and had already come to admire and respect, "I'm sorry."
     "Never mind," Jorda's voice suddenly became totally unemotional,
"Never mind, it's part of this whole rotten job.  They're not the first
ones to go today."
     The Chief Fireman turned around to face him, "You'll have to leave
one of those pumps with me and make due with just three for the
vipers."
     "Okay," Apollo nodded and struggled to get that horrible sight out
of his mind, "Keep in contact with the bridge.  They'll notify you when
we make the strafing runs."
     "Captain," Jorda took his hand and shook it, "Good luck."
     Once Apollo was back in the next compartment and out of the
fire-zone, the look on his face was all that Ezra and Sanchez needed to
know.
     Sanchez was stoic, and chose not to say anything about it,
"Captain, I've notified Maintenance.  Two men are on their way to help
carry these down to the launch bay.  We'd do it ourselves, but it's
important for us to get back to our job."
     Apollo nodded as he started to take off his fire suit.  As Ezra
and Sanchez went by him to go back to the fire, he patted them both on
the back and shook their hands.
     "It's been an honor working with you," he said, "You're a fine
group of men."
     "And you, Captain," Ezra acknowledged with a slight bow, "The
Lords be with you."
     When the compartment door had shut, leaving Apollo alone for the
moment, he had to summon all his strength to keep from breaking down
into tears.  Never before, had he seen anyone die as horribly as he'd
seen Stone and Jansen.  Seeing a viper destroyed in combat, or a
warrior being shot by a Cylon laser pistol had never conveyed the
terror of death as vividly as the scene he had just witnessed.
     And what made him all the more frightened inside, was that such a
horrible scene could easily be repeated in the Rejuvenation Center if
things didn't change soon.


     As Starbuck slowly backed his viper into a position for refitting,
Sheba and Bojay stood on the tarmac, having already done the same with
their vipers.
     "It's been one tough sectan, hasn't it?" Bojay smiled mirthlessly
at his fellow Pegasus veteran.
     "Yeah," Sheba nodded, "I don't even think the Battle of Molocay
had anything on what we've gone through."
     She then noticed that the helmet under his arm was a Galactica
helmet, "You decided to switch too?" she asked with a wry expression.
     "I figured I might as well," he shrugged, "No matter how much I
may not like it, I might as well face the fact that for better or
worse, I belong to this ship now.  No sense getting dirty looks from
all the other pilots by wearing a helmet from another ship."
     "I understand," Sheba nodded, "I came to the same conclusion too
after the battle."
     "Not that this is a new experience for me," Bojay went on,
"Remember, I did serve on this ship until I got transferred to the
Fifth Fleet.  There's no shame in being a part of this crew, or serving
under a commander like Adama.  No matter what I might have said....back
on the Pegasus the other day."
     "I know." she nodded at his oblique reference to when the warriors
of the Pegasus had defiantly stood up for Commander Cain after he had
been relieved of his command.  
     "So tell me," he said, "Now that you've had a chance to get to
know all these guys I used to tell you and the rest of Silver Spar
about, what's your impression?"
     "Apollo and Starbuck are quite remarkable," Sheba admitted,  "But
frankly, the impression I get of them, isn't quite what you told me."
     "Oh?" Bojay lifted an eyebrow, "How's that?"
     "You always gave me the impression that Starbuck was more like my
father," she said, "Frankly, I don't see that at all.  Apart from being
a good warrior, the only thing he has in common with him is the
braggadocio."
     "He has a lot of that," Bojay admitted, "By the way, my
compliments to you for not having fallen for his proposition before we
left on the Gomorrah mission."
     "What else could I have done?" she chuckled lightly.  "He isn't
the type that would interest me in a million yahrens.  At least....not
that way."
     "And Apollo?"
     Sheba leaned back against the wall and seemed to pause in
reflection, "Apollo....has some more interesting qualities."
     Before Bojay could respond to that, a subdued Apollo entered the
launch bay carrying one of the pumps, followed by two crewmen carrying
the others.
     "Apollo," Starbuck looked down with concern from his cockpit,
"What happened down there?"
     "I don't want to talk about it," he said in a low tone as he set
down the pump he was carrying, "Jenny!"
     The ground-crew CWO came up to him.
     "Get these pumps put into my viper, Starbuck's and Sheba's.  It's
only going to be the three of us," he paused to catch his breath, "Is
the boraton ready?"
     "All in place and ready to be pumped," she said.
     "Get on it now.  Try to have us ready to go in five centons."
     "Okay," Jenny turned to the other members of her ground-crew, "You
heard it everyone, let's get going!  Load these things in fast."
     Immediately, the ground-crew members came over, picked up the
pumps and carried them over to the respective vipers.  
     Starbuck dropped to the tarmac and came up to his friend with a
quizzical expression.  Identical expressions lined the faces of Bojay
and Sheba.
     "Sorry you're the odd one out, Bojay," Apollo's voice returned to
a more normal level, "One of the pumps was damaged.  Maybe next time."
     "Apollo," Starbuck said gently, "If you don't feel like going out,
maybe you should let Bojay do it."
     "Starbuck, I'm the one who's plotted this out, I have to do it!"
he raised his voice.
     "Okay," Starbuck said apologetically as he gestured his hands
apart and quietly backed away, "Okay.  We'll get everything ready." 
     Apollo took a breath, "I'll be launching first and leading you
in," he then walked over to where his viper had been moved into
position.
     As soon as he was out of earshot, Bojay leaned over to Sheba, "Is
that what you meant by 'interesting qualities'?"
     "Oh yeah," she nodded as she hitched up her helmet and took a step
toward her viper, "I'm not sure whether that's a good or bad quality,
but it's definitely interesting."


     "Boraton flight standing by, Colonel," Omega reported.
     "Okay," Tigh said and adjusted his headset, "Jorda?"
     "I'm at the main station for the internal hose system, Colonel,"
the Chief Fireman said, "We just finished attaching the mega-pressure
pump.  Once we turn the system on, then we'll be able to flood all the
boraton we need from all of our pump stations throughout the fire
zones."
     "Stand by on my signal, Jorda," Tigh then switched frequencies,
"Apollo, you may launch when ready."
     "We'll be away in a micron, Colonel," Apollo said as he closed his
cockpit canopy.
     Starbuck looked over at Apollo's grim expression and decided to
inject a note of reassurance, "Apollo," he said gently, "Don't worry
about Boxey and Athena.  They're going to be okay."
     Sheba impulsively decided to do the same, "They'll probably be
waiting when we get back."
     "If this works," Apollo sighed.  For a brief instant, a horrible
image of what he had seen happen to Stone and Jansen also conceivably
happening to Athena and Boxey went through his mind, and he quickly
pushed it out as fast as it had entered, along with the continued
anxiety he felt over his father's condition.
     "Remember, this boraton is heavy, so we're overloaded," his voice
switched to a tone of authority, "When you pull up after your run,
watch it, because the increased g-factor could slam you right against
the hull."
     "No problem, pal," Starbuck flashed a characteristic smirk, "I
have no intention of doing my best imitation of a Cylon fighter today."
     Seconds later, the three of them had hit their turbo buttons and
were away.


     In the Life Station, the scene was less chaotic than it had been
in the immediate wake of the explosions.  Most of the patients with
minor burns had already been released, leaving only those in the life
pods who still required major attention.
     Cassiopeia was finishing with the burned warrior who had told
Apollo about Athena and Boxey.
     "I'm sorry," Castor muttered, "I shouldn't have been the one to
tell him."
     "It's okay," Cassiopeia said gently as she applied some more burn
ointment to the warrior's eye, "He had to know.  I just hope the
Commander didn't overhear it."
     "I wouldn't have mentioned it if I'd known he was in here, too,"
the warrior went on, "I was--"
     "The sooner you learn to forget it, the better," an almost
parental note entered her voice, "You risked your life to try and get
to them, and now it's up to the others to do something about it."
     "I hope they get to them," he said.
     "They will," she said, "Okay, Sergeant, you can go now."
     Castor warily got to his feet and left the room.
     Cassiopeia sighed and went back to the other end of the Life
Station, where Salik was overlooking all of the life pods.  Directly in
his line of vision was Adama's.         
     "Any change?" she asked.
     "For the worse," the middle-aged surgeon had his hand on his chin
in deep contemplation, "I'm now being pushed into the kind of dilemma
no doctor ever likes to get put in."
     "How?" she looked over at Adama with concern.
     "I said I wouldn't operate as long as the Energizer remains
endangered," he said, "But that pod isn't keeping his life signs stable
any longer.  And so, I have a choice of two options, both of which can
kill him.  Leave him in the pod and let the metal near his heart do it,
or operate now and run the risk of the equipment going out."
     Cassiopeia looked back at Salik, "Have you ever had that kind of
dilemma before?"
     "Too often," Salik sighed, "Much too often.  From the day I first
opened a medical practice on Cancera, forty yahrens ago."
     The med-tech again looked inside Adama's pod.  For now, the
Commander appeared to be in a resting state.
     "Crowded conditions, equipment going out," Salik went on with a
trace of grim irony, "These are the kinds of problems I had to cope
with in those early days, when my practice was in a run-down building
in the poorest region of Cancera, and I had to single-handedly provide
care for over two hundred people.  And then, I spent the next thirty
yahrens, making myself into a successful surgeon who moved on to work
in the finest medical facilities in all the Colonies, where problems
like this were a dim and distant memory.  In all the yahrens I worked
at the Canceran Medical Institute, we never once had to worry about
Energizers failing, and equipment going out, or too many patients to
handle.  We always had this smug assurance inside ourselves that we'd
developed to a level of technological perfection and efficiency.  That
while there might be unknown diseases to give us trouble, as far as
treatable medical emergencies went, there was nothing that couldn't be
done without any complications."
     Cassiopeia slowly made her way over to where Salik stood.
     "And now, thanks to the Holocaust, I find myself working on the
Galactica, and my career has come full circle.  I'm right back to
working in conditions and facing problems that I'd spent a whole
lifetime trying to overcome and get myself out of.  I've had to learn
the hard way about all the wrong lessons of my career." 
     The blonde med-tech gently put her hand on his shoulder in
support.  She'd never been able to tell the middle-aged doctor before
how much she had come to love him as a mentor, teacher and
father-figure.  At a time when she'd been struggling to cope with the
Holocaust and knew that her then-profession of socialator was one that
she could not continue with, Salik had reached out to her and asked if
she'd be interested in becoming a medical technician.  Because of that
act of compassion, Cassiopeia had been able to have a sense of purpose
restored to her life, and a feeling that she was doing more to help
people than in all the time she'd provided comfort as a socialator.
     Working with Salik up-close, and seeing how his compassion and
dedication extended to all levels of his work, had also inspired
Cassiopeia to consider moving on to even greater responsibilities
within the medical profession.  That Salik could in fact, train her to
become a doctor as well, and that one day, she would be doing his work,
too.
     "Whatever decision you have to make, I'm sure will be the right
one," she said, "Your judgment had always been better than anyone else
I know."
     The middle-aged surgeon said nothing, but his faint smile
indicated his gratefulness.
     "Dr. Salik," one of the other med-techs at the other end of the
room called over to him, "I need some help with this burn victim."
     Salik nodded and turned to Cassiopeia, "Monitor the Commander's
pod readings, and let me know if they drop again.  That might make the
difference in my decision."
     

     "Apollo," Tigh radioed, "The mega-pressure pump is in place on our
end.  You can commence the boraton run."
     Apollo took the lead position of the three vipers.
     "I'll make the first pass Starbuck, then you and Sheba.  We'll
have to make it good."
     "I'm right behind you," his friend said.
     And then, they hit their turbos and went into a roll pattern that
would take them on a heading back to the burning battlestar.


     "They're starting their run, Jorda," Tigh switched frequencies on
his headset.
     "Okay, Colonel," the Chief Fireman acknowledged and then made his
way over to the giant console that controlled the ship's internal hose
system.  He gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Lords that the
builders of the Galactica had seen fit not to place it in the same
location as the destroyed Boraton Mist Control Center.  If that had
happened, the whole plan they were now trying would have been useless.
     No, he corrected himself.  It wouldn't have meant just that, it
would have mean that they'd already be dead, since there would have
then been no power for the hoses.
     "The vipers are beginning their run," he barked, "Start the
mega-pressure pump!"
     Fireman Danta activated a switch on the console that started the
pump's power.  Then, one at a time, he turned the valves controlling
each of the pump stations throughout the fire zones.  The level of
boraton pressure in each hose would now be increased to the levels they
needed to get to.
     Jorda could instantly see the pressure pump's effect on the hoses
just in front of him.  Almost immediately, they had thickened and
hardened to twice the size they'd been throughout the entire firefight. 
But now they were the size they should have been right from the outset. 
At long last, the level of boraton that they needed to contain and
smother the fire would be flowing throughout the ship.
     The Chief Fireman could feel the tension rising inside him as he
banged his thick gloves together.


     The eerie, orange glow of the landing bay fire loomed larger in
Apollo's field of vision as he brought his viper closer.  There was a
heavy feeling not just in his viper from the unwieldy load of boraton,
but in the bottom of his stomach as well.
     Too much had happened to him this day.  Far more than he felt his
nerves could take.  And yet, it was because of that, that he knew that
whatever had to be done to save the Galactica was something he had to
take part in.  It was the only way to get all those sick and troubling
thoughts out of his mind.
     "Here we go," Apollo took a breath as he hit his turbo and went
into a strafing run.
     "Easy," Apollo muttered through the tension and discomfort he
felt, as his nose came to within sixty feet of the burning landing bay
entrance, "Easy."
     His attack computer had been reprogrammed to show the landing bay
entrance as his target.  When he saw it blink, he let out a shout at
the top of his voice, "NOW!"
     Apollo hit his fire button.  Instead of the normal red streaks of
laser fire, a white cloud of boraton erupted from the front and
streaked right through the burning entrance.
     As soon as it was away, Apollo pulled up.  He then felt an intense
pressure that he hadn't experienced since the worst days of Academy
training, when a slightly sadistic instructor would increase the
g-factor stress in the flyer simulator to extremely dangerous levels.
     Once he'd leveled off, he shook his dazed sensation off and looked
back at the Galactica.  The orange glow of the landing bay fire dimmed
slightly, went out for only a brief instant, but then quickly returned
to its earlier intensity.
     The first shot, as he'd expected, was not enough to do the job.
     "Watch it Starbuck," he exhaled as he saw his friend's viper draw
closer, "The g-factors are worse than I thought."
     "How worse?"
     "Just think of old Beggs at the Academy."
     "Oh boy," Starbuck rolled his eyes briefly, "Thanks for the
warning."
     The brash lieutenant hit his turbo and started his run.
     As he drew closer to the landing bay, the memory of the Cylon
fighter eluding his pursuit toward this same spot filled Starbuck's
mind.  To his way of thinking, he had played it as carefully as he
could then, and the end result was the conflagration that now loomed
before him.
     As far as he was concerned now, Starbuck had no intention of
playing this run carefully.  It was time to make up for what he
regarded as a costly, terrible mistake he had made.
     He adjusted his nose down a degree and increased his speed  
     Apollo's eyes widened in disbelief as he saw Starbuck's viper
plunge slightly downward.
     "Starbuck, your angle's too steep," a note of alarm crept into his
voice.
     "The way I see it Apollo, I've got to get even closer than you
did, to do any good."
     "Don't take any unnecessary risks."
     "I did that the last time, and the Cylon fighter got through!" for
the first time, Starbuck let his emotions out as he drew closer.
     "Pull up!" Apollo shouted, "Break off your run!"
     "Not a chance," Starbuck gritted his teeth as the target flashed. 
Just forty feet from the opening, he hit the fire button and then went
into a far steeper climb than Apollo had been forced to go into.
     The stress was indeed, far worse than he'd remembered from the
Academy training days.  But thanks to that earlier experience when he'd
been flying the CORA viper, and had instructed her to go into an even
steeper dive and pull-up that had caused him to black out, his mind was
more than prepared to handle this one.
     Once he was back to an even flying level, he let out a sigh of
relief that the run was over.
     "I thought you weren't going to make it," Apollo radioed.
     "Yeah, well," Starbuck allowed himself a nervous chuckle, "I knew
what I was doing.  And what I had to do."
     He looked back at the landing bay.  Again, the glow of the fire
dimmed briefly and then went out for a brief instant.  And like before,
came back just as quickly.
     "Frack," he sighed.  But there was none of the dejection he'd felt
earlier.  At least this time, he knew he'd given it his best possible
shot.
     "Sheba?" Apollo radioed the third viper in the group.
     "Starting my run," she said calmly, and without any trace of
emotion.  She'd been silent throughout the previous two runs and been
focusing every part of her mind on the task that was at hand for her. 
Applying the same methodical approach her father always put into a
battle plan.
     "This one has to do it, Sheba," Apollo said pointedly.
     Sheba took a deep breath.  Earlier, she might have snapped and
told Apollo to shut the frack up, as she had done while chasing the
last Cylon fighter.  But this time, with all that had happened since,
and all that she had been thinking about Apollo, she was able to hold
her tongue.
     "Make it good, just like the last time," he added with a note of
encouragement. 
     "I will," she allowed herself to whisper as she drew closer. 
     Closer and closer, her viper came toward the burning landing bay. 
She decided on an approach that would put her fifty feet from the
entrance when she fired.
     Behind her, Apollo and Starbuck could only watch with a rising
level of tension.
     The target computer blinked.  Sheba bit her lip and pressed the
fire button.
     The white cloud of boraton hit its target on cue as she safely
pulled up with no difficulty.  Once she had leveled off, she craned her
head to see the results of the last attempt.
     Again, the orange glow dimmed briefly.  Again, the glow went out.
     But this time, it stayed out.
     The three viper pilots said nothing for a moment, each of them not
wanting to react prematurely.  They continued to wait with the nervous
sensation that the glow would come back.
     But still, the only thing they could see in the landing bay was
darkness.
     Finally, Starbuck felt safe enough to break the tension, "We got
it," he said with careful exhilaration, "By all the Lords, we got it."
     "We got the landing bay," Apollo responded in a deliberate effort
to keep the level of enthusiasm down, "It's up to Jorda and the guys
inside to put the rest of the fire out.  If the mega-pressure pump
doesn't work there, this whole thing will have been for nothing."
     "What do we do in the meantime?" Sheba asked.
     "For now, we stay out here and wait for the final confirmation
that the fire is out."


     "It's working sir," a note of cautious optimism was in Fireman
Danta's voice, as the thicker hoses sprayed massive levels of boraton
throughout the corridors of both fire zones.
     Jorda refused to be impressed, "We'll need at least five centons
of this before we'll have the tide turned.  I'm not letting out any
cheers until this thing is out, completely."

     The Chief Fireman adjusted his headset and spoke into it, "Beta
Zone, report!"
     "Fireman Tanner, sir.  Starting to contain it along the approach
to Energizer Two."
     "Good, keep it up," he switched frequencies, "Gamma Zone, report!"
     "Fireman Bacchus, sir.  She's still hot along the walls near the
solium tanks but the momentum's stopped.  Should have it turned around
in a few microns."
     "Good, keep it up," Jorda repeated and then changed to the bridge
frequency, "Colonel, we're starting to turn it around down here. 
Another five centons, and we might be out of danger."
     "Excellent," like the Chief Fireman, the Executive Officer was
keeping all undue optimism out of his voice, "Your men are doing a
great job, Jorda."
     For the first time, a note of pride entered Jorda's voice, "Yes,
Colonel, they are.  They're the best."
          
           
     "Colonel, how's it coming in there?" Apollo radioed.
     "It's going to take a little more time, Apollo," Tigh replied,
"About another five centons, and it might be over by then."
     "We'll wait here and keep our eye on the landing bay."
     "Do that."
     Apollo hesitated briefly before asking his next question,
"Colonel, has there been any sign of Muffy?"
     "No, Apollo," Tigh said matter-of-factly, "I'm sorry, there's been
no change there.  But if the fire gets put out, I'll send a team down
there right away to get them out.  Believe me." 
     

     Slowly, Jorda began to feel a creeping tide of optimism enter him
as the pressure pump continued to do its job.
     "Beta Zone?" he signaled.
     "Coming along even better sir," Tanner answered, "We're moving in
on the worst part of the fire, here.  We get by this one area, and
we'll have the whole zone contained." 
     "Very good, Tanner, you're all---"
     The Chief Fireman stopped as he was suddenly distracted by a sound
coming from the control console where the pump had been attached to.
     "Danta, what's happening?" he dashed up to the console.
     "I think something's wrong with the seal, sir," Danta said, "It
could be that the pump was too weakened by the original explosion to
handle this load."
     "It's got to handle it!" Jorda raised his voice in alarm as all
the optimism he'd been feeling rapidly receded, "Just three more
centons!"
     But no sooner had the Chief Fireman finished his impassioned plea,
when the bolt connecting the pressure pump to the console suddenly
exploded in a puff of smoke.
     In an instant, the massively thick fire hoses deflated into flat
strips and their flow of boraton suddenly trickled to a stop.
     "No," Jorda said through clenched teeth, "Damn it, no!"
     "Sir!" Tanner's voice shouted through his headset in terror, "Our
boraton's gone out!"
     "The pump's blown, Tanner, we'll get the regular pumps back in a
micron, hang on!" he gestured wildly at Danta who was frantically
pulling the pump off.
     "Oh my God, it's flaring out again!"
     A hideous scream then filled Jorda's headset.  Loud enough for
even Danta to hear.
     There was nothing but stunned horror on both their faces for a
long micron.
     Then, the Chief Fireman let all the emotion he'd held back since
he'd seen Stone and Jansen burned to death, finally explode.  With
uncontrollable rage, he grabbed the useless pump from Danta, hurled it
to the floor and kicked it with all the fury he could summon.
     "Fracking piece of useless felgercarb!" he roared, and then turned
back to Danta, "Get those regular pumps going, now!  I want new teams
in place in Beta section on the double!" the intensity of his voice did
not let up.
     As Danta and two other firemen frantically went to work on the
console, Jorda hurriedly readjusted his headset, "Gamma Zone, report!"
     There was no response.
     "Bacchus?" Jorda was almost pleading for a response, "Bacchus?"
     Still nothing.
     Jorda lowered his head.  He was too spent to let out his feelings
of rage and frustration again.
     "Put a new team in place in Gamma Zone," he returned to his usual
posture of authority, "Stay with it as long as possible."
     "We've got the regular pumps reconnected," Danta said as he
hastily turned the valves on the console again.
     Slowly, the hoses that had gone limp inflated back to the
low-pressure level they'd been at before.  A level that they already
knew was too ineffective to contain the fire.
     "Sir," another fireman dashed up to Jorda, "It's gone out of
control in both sections again.  And we're now looking at a lateral
wall of flame moving instead of a gradual pace forward."
     The Chief Fireman rubbed the back of his neck, "Both sections are
to take up front-line positions at the main doors to the Energizer room
and the solium tanks.  Work it out from there as best as they can."
     "Yes sir," the fireman left.
     The Chief Fireman warily readjusted his headset, "Colonel, I'm
sorry.  The pump's main seal blew out and the fire's out of control
again.  We're falling back with the regular pumps."
     It was a moment before Tigh was able to reply.
     "I see," the executive officer sighed, "Jorda, your men have done
the best possible job they could have been asked to do.  Keep me
advised."
     "Yes sir."
     The Chief Fireman then walked up to the ruined pump that he had
kicked across the floor.  For the first time since he'd been a child,
he felt like crying.
     "Couldn't last another three fracking centons, could you?" he said
under his breath.
     He then gave it another savage kick and went back to his job.


     Apollo, Starbuck and Sheba remained in a holding pattern, keeping
their eyes focused on the battlestar.
     Suddenly, after more than three centons of darkness, the orange
glow suddenly returned to the landing bay.
     "Frack," Starbuck's shoulders sagged, "We didn't get it."
     Apollo lowered his head and let out an agonized sigh.  All that
work.  All that struggle to get to the pumps, which had killed two
brave firemen.  All for nothing.
     And his family, as well as the Galactica, remained in serious
danger.
     Inside her cockpit, Sheba felt as though the nightmare she'd been
going through was never going to end.  Just when she had begun to start
the difficult process of committing herself to life aboard the
Galactica, it now seemed clear that she was going to lose that as well.
     "Boraton flight," Tigh's voice sounded deflated, "I'm sorry.  The
pump was too strained from the explosion to handle the boraton
pressure.  You're cleared to land now."
     None of the pilots could say anything in response as they guided
their ships into the starboard landing bay.


     "Colonel," Omega came up to the executive officer, "We're getting
some messages from the other ships in the Fleet."
     "Good Lord," Tigh shook his head, "We've been so concerned with
trying to save the Galactica, we've all but forgotten them.  What are
they asking?"
     Omega uneasily hesitated, "Well sir, they, ah...they all say they
need instructions on what they're supposed to do, in case..." the
bridge officer was unable to finish.
     Tigh nodded in acknowledgment, "I understand.  Omega, get me
Commander Kronus aboard the Celestra."
     "Yes sir," he turned and walked away.


     "Beta Section team, are you in place?"  Jorda had managed to get
himself back to an unemotional tone.
     "Yes sir, Fireman Fitzgerald--oh God," his voice suddenly took on
a disgusted edge.
     Jorda knew right away that they'd stumbled across the remains of
the team they'd been sent in to replace.
     "Look, I'm afraid you can't concern yourself with that," he said,
"What's the situation around the Energizer?"
     "Well sir," Fitzgerald struggled to recover his tone, "we've only
got it clear for about a hundred feet around.  The chief problem now,
is that the flare-ups are becoming more regular.  And when they happen,
they bounce right off the Energizer compartment door, and they're
liable to start causing short-outs and power drops even before it
reaches the compartment."
     "Okay, there's nothing you can do about the flare-ups when they
happen, but keep it concentrated high and maybe they'll get a little
less frequent."
     "There's another thing sir," Fitzgerald added, "The ceiling and
the corridor bulkheads are getting weakened by the flare-ups too.  They
could all come down at any time now."
     "You just have to keep aiming it high," the Chief Fireman didn't
change the level of his voice, "Fitzgerald, your group is the last line
of defense in Beta Section.  You're going to have to stay with it right
to the end."
     "Yes sir, I understand, we---"
     "Fitzgerald?" Jorda tensed, "You still there?"
     Suddenly, the lights above his head flickered and dimmed for a
brief instant, and then came back on.
     "Fitzgerald?"
     "Yes sir," the fireman's voice was out-of-breath, "Sorry, there
was another flare-up.  Went right against the compartment door."
     "Yeah, we noticed," Jorda looked up at the overhead lights with
concern, "Keep aiming your hoses high."
     As he switched the frequency off, the Chief Fireman realized that
time was beginning to slowly run out.


     The lights had also dimmed in the Life Station, where Salik had
been hunched over the life pod of another patient.  The pulsating
regular tone of the equipment that ran the chambers, abruptly slowed to
an irritating and muffled sound.
     Concerned, Salik made his way back to the monitoring station where
Cassiopeia was sitting, just as the lights came back to their full
intensity, and the pulse of the equipment resumed its normal tone.
     "Well?" the doctor asked.
     The med-tech nodded, "That power drop just made his life signs
even worse."
     Salik looked at Adama's pod, "That settles it," he said with
finality, "I'm operating now.  More power-drops like that are just
going to kill him anyway."
     "I think that's a good idea," Cassiopeia got to her feet.
     "Notify Tigh," he said, "I'll be in Ultrasonic Scrub."


     Boomer took as delicate a breath as he could from the lifemask
that had just been passed to him.  The ugly, thick smoke cloud had
begun to creep under the storage compartment door just as it had done
in the Rejuvenation Center.  Only this time, the twenty people could do
nothing else but stare at the cloud's development.
     After two more breaths, Boomer handed it to Boxey.
     "Okay Boxey," he said in a low tone, "Your turn now."
     "Don't worry," the little boy was outwardly smiling, but Boomer
could clearly see the fear in the child's eyes, "Muffit isn't going to
let us down."
     "I know he won't, Boxey," Boomer ran his hand through the little
boy's hair, "I know he won't."
     "Boomer," Athena ran her hand across her forehead, "I'm really
starting to feel funny."
     "Everybody, try not to talk," Boomer raised his voice for the
first time in a while, "It's the only way we can stretch the current
oxygen level in here."
     No sooner had he spoken, when a heavyset warrior at the back of
the room suddenly collapsed to the floor in a faint.
     Boomer and Athena made their way back to him.  He quickly took the
unconscious warrior's pulse.
     "Very bad," he whispered as one of the other five masks was handed
to him and he placed it over the unconscious man's face,  Very bad."
     "We all are," Athena whispered back, "Boomer, how much longer do
you think we have?"
     "Probably less than twenty or thirty centons," he cast a glance
back at the vent, "Blasted daggit, why don't you show up?"


     "Commander Kronus is on Alpha Channel, sir," Omega said.
     "Thank you," Tigh flicked a switch.  The face of Commander Kronus,
the retired battlestar commander who had been pressed back into active
service as commander of the Fleet's largest maintenance ship, the
Celestra, now filled the screen.
     "Colonel Tigh," he spoke in that stuffy, and characteristically
unfriendly tone.  Kronus was the polar opposite of the kind of
gregarious commander that Cain was, and he certainly wasn't noted for
having any of the gentle, compassionate characteristics associated with
Adama.  
     "Yes, Commander," Tigh said, trying not to show any of the sense
of discomfort that Kronus always managed to instill in him, "I don't
think I need to tell you, how serious the situation is aboard the
Galactica."
     "How is Adama?" he asked with a trace of concern.  The Galactica
commander had served under Kronus many yahrens ago as the commander's
adjutant.
     "He's in serious condition, but that isn't important right now,"
Tigh said, "As Acting Fleet Commander, it's my responsibility to tell
you, as the most experienced warrior in the Fleet, what steps you'll
have to take in the event the Galactica is destroyed."
     The stern commander nodded, "Go ahead."
     "Overall command will fall to you," Tigh's tone was firm, "Your
first priority is to get underway at top speed and escape this quadrant
of space.  Dr. Wilker is presently aboard the Auxiliary Electronics
Ship, and will be able to provide you with all data as to how maximum
speed can be achieved for all the ships.  At all possible costs, it is
imperative that you keep the Fleet together, and maintain the same
levels of food and fuel distribution.  Fortunately, all fuel tankers
are loaded to maximum capacity so there will be no danger of any
shortages erupting on that front."
     "All well and good," Kronus's voice remained gruff, "But how do I
keep this Fleet together if I'm discovered by another Cylon task force,
and have absolutely nothing with which to fight back?"
     "I'm coming to that," it was a struggle for Tigh to hide the
feelings of dislike Kronus evoked in him, "If it becomes clear that
you're being trailed by a baseship, or any other type of Cylon force
that can not be eluded, than the survival of human civilization
dictates that you disperse the Fleet in as wide a column as possible. 
From there on in," he paused briefly, "Each ship will be on its own."
     There was no response from Kronus.
     "Are my instructions quite clear, Commander Kronus?" Tigh took his
tone to the highest level of firm authority that he could muster.
     "Quite clear," his face had still not changed expression, "It
shall be done, if indeed the situation comes to that."
     "Thank you," he said, "This will be our last message until the
present situation is ended."
     "Colonel," for the first time, the inflection in Kronus's voice
changed slightly.
     "Yes, Commander?"
     The usually stern and tight-fisted commander let out a sigh that
telegraphed the true emotions he was feeling, "The Lords Of Kobol watch
over you, and be with you."
     Tigh nodded in understanding as he flicked the switch that ended
the transmission.
     "Colonel," Omega came up to him again, "Dr. Salik says he's going
to operate on the commander now."
     The executive officer gave him a pensive stare.
     "Omega," he said, "Watch over the bridge for a few centons.  I'll
be back soon."
     "Yes sir."
     Slowly, Tigh headed for the bridge exit for the first time since
before the battle.
     With seemingly nothing else to do at the moment, there was a
fierce determination within Tigh to go see Adama before the operation.
     Especially when it was tinged with the realization that no matter
what happened to the Galactica, he might not ever have another chance
to see or talk to him again.

                                   Chapter Four

     Tigh slowly walked into the Life Station.  Inside, he was a
churning mass of apprehension.  Outwardly, he was determined to keep it
completely hidden from Adama.  More than anything else, Tigh wanted his
friend to know that he was acting exactly as he was expected to in this
critical situation.
     He saw Adama's pod at the back end of the room and with a firmness
in his walk, came over and knelt next to him.
     "Adama?" he asked as gently as he could.
     The half-dilated eyes opened, and the Commander barely tilted his
head a fraction of an inch, "Tigh?" the voice was still the same awful
rasp he had heard on the bridge.
     "I understand they're going to fix you up," the executive officer
injected a tiny positive inflection into his voice.
     "How...bad is it, Tigh?"
     "You'll come through just fine," he smiled faintly at his
long-time friend, "Just fine."
     "Not me," the commander rasped, "The ship?"
     Tigh hesitated slightly.
     "I...know about the fire."
     The executive officer gave up trying to show any false bravado. 
Honesty was one of the qualities Adama had always admired in Tigh, and
he decided it would be more shameful to abandon that now.
     "It's bad," Tigh's voice became grave, "Very bad.  It's headed for
both the Energizer and the solium tanks.  We...thought we had it
solved, but the plan failed.  We can't put the fire out."
     Adama said nothing.
     "I'm sorry, Adama," Tigh's shoulders sagged slightly and he looked
down at the floor, "I've done all I possibly can to try and save her,
but I'm afraid I've failed.  I'm sorry, I let you down."
     "Tigh."      
     The executive officer found himself unable to look at him.
     "Look...at me, Tigh," a harder edge entered Adama's barely audible
rasp, and Tigh finally forced himself to look at him again.
     "It's a...terrible situation.  But...there's still a way."
     The executive officer frowned and leaned closer to him.
     "A...drastic way...If all else has failed...let the vacuum of
space...smother it."
     "You mean blow the hull?" Tigh asked.
     "Yes," Adama motioned his head a fraction of an inch, "Explosive
charges on the hull....Blow hole...Deprive the fire of oxygen."
     "Adama," Tigh said patiently, "Doing that carries an enormous risk
that could destroy us anyway."
     "How?"
     "We took a terrible beating before this at Gomorrah, just days
ago," the executive officer pointed out, "We were barely back to
working order when this incident happened.  Using explosives on this
hull runs the risk of further weakening the structural integrity of
this ship in too many areas."
     "Not if...precise," even in this sorry condition, Adama's mind was
still able to explain things with precision, "Keep charges and
explosion in limited area of fire....Only way."
     Tigh found it impossible to debate the point and nodded, "You're
right.  We're down to no other options.  It has to be done," he then
looked down at him again, "But there may be a lot of people trapped in
the fire zones.  Blowing the hull could kill them all."
     Adama looked him in the eye, "You...really believe Boxey...and
Athena are still alive?"
     Tigh didn't change his expression, "How did you know?"
     The commander's eyes closed, "I...overheard a great deal...when I
was supposed to be resting....Poor warrior who'd...tried to rescue them
when it started....told Apollo."
     "Sergeant Castor."
     "Make sure....he's put down for decoration."
     "I will," Tigh nodded, "Adama, right now we're not sure about
them.  But Apollo thinks that they might try to send Muffit through one
of the ducts.  If he gets through, we'll send them back some oxygen
masks."
     "That daggit's....remarkable," a wry edge entered the raspy tone,
"Should...be able...to do it."
     "I hope so," Tigh said, "I hope so."
     Cassiopeia then came over to them and placed a hand on the back
end of the life pod.
     "It's time, Colonel," she said.
     As Cassiopeia and another med-tech started to pull the pod away to
the operating area, the executive officer looked at Adama one last
time.
     "I'll get to work on the plan now, Adama," he said with a sense of
firmness that was more genuine than when he'd entered the room, "The
best people will be on it."


     As the executive officer left the Life Station, he immediately saw
Apollo, Starbuck and Sheba approaching.  He instantly held up a hand
and stopped them.
     "The commander's already being operated on," Tigh said, "You can't
see him."
     "I have to," Apollo said calmly.
     "No you can't," Tigh raised his tone, "Because right now, I need
the three of you for the last chance we have at putting this fire out. 
Come with me to the bridge."
     Nothing further needed to be said, as the three warriors
immediately turned around and followed Tigh in the other direction.


     "Here's how it'll work," Tigh said as the four of them hunched
over the computer monitor that displayed the Galactica's blueprints,
"Two warriors in pressure suits leave the ship through the emergency
hatch number fourteen, located here," he pointed to a spot along the
hull that was across from the port landing bay wing.
     "Uh, did you say two warriors, sir?" Starbuck asked as he wondered
what sort of thing he was going to get into this time.
     "Yes, two warriors, Lieutenant," Tigh was blunt, "Jorda has
already lost nearly a dozen men, and all the Maintenance people who
aren't dealing with things in here have been sent in to back him up. 
And since you warriors have as much EVA training as they do...."
     "I think I get the picture, Colonel," Starbuck said with
resignation.
     Tigh nodded and went back to the blueprints.
     "At a series of points on top of the hull running from hatch
fourteen to hatch nineteen, and across to the top of the landing bay,
explosive charges will be set.  These will blow holes that will end up
exposing both sections of Alpha Deck, as well as the landing bay, to
the vacuum and put out the fire."
     The three warriors stared at the diagram intently.
     "Colonel," Apollo said, "If people are in a compartment where the
fire hasn't penetrated so far, they'd be safe from the explosions,
wouldn't they?"
     "There is a danger factor from the potential loss of pressure,"
Tigh was blunt, "If the explosion causes their compartment door to
collapse, then they'd be exposed to the same vacuum putting out the
fire zone.  Lifemasks would be useless for them.  I'm afraid it's a
risk we're just going to have to take."
     "I understand," Apollo nodded, "How many charges will be needed?"
     "Twelve high level ones.  And they have to be placed exactly
right."
     "Starbuck?" Apollo glanced wryly at his friend who shrugged.
     "I know I'm a fool," he sighed, "But I'm ready to give it a try."
     "Very well," Tigh said, "Sheba, get your viper ready.  You'll be
monitoring Starbuck and Apollo's progress as they work their way along
the hull."
     "Okay," Sheba nodded.
     Just then, Omega came up with another report, "Colonel, the
temperature reading in the Energizer room just entered the warning
area.  The same with the solium tanks."
     "Time's running out," Tigh said to the three warriors, "Get
moving."
     As the three of them moved out, Apollo cast a quick and forlorn
glance at the duct.  Then, he suddenly stopped and let out an
exclamation, "Of course, mushies!"
     "Huh?" Starbuck frowned, "You're suddenly thinking about mushies?"
     "Colonel," Apollo turned back to Tigh, "Trust me on this.  Boxey
trained Muffy to sniff out mushies.  Put a plate of them under this
duct, and it'll lead him straight to here like a beacon."
     Tigh looked at him with a dubious expression.
     "I'm serious, Colonel, do it!"
     "Okay," the executive officer slowly nodded, "Consider it done. 
Now in the meantime, you get your astrum down to hatch fourteen, now!"
     "Yes sir!" Apollo's tone was brighter than it had been in a long
while as he turned and left the bridge with Starbuck and Sheba
trailing.
     "Omega," Tigh said with perfect seriousness, although he almost
found it difficult to keep a straight face, "Have some...mushies sent
up here, immediately."
     The bridge officer didn't even try to keep a straight face as he
nodded and went off to carry out the order.


     "Apollo," Sheba said once they were in the corridor and reached
the point where they would go their separate ways, "I have to ask you
this, before we get started.  Do you really feel up to doing this?"
     Starbuck turned around and tensed himself, as if he expected
another outburst from his friend.  But Apollo chose to be nonchalant.
     "There's no reason, why I shouldn't."
     "You have done quite a lot for one day," she kept her tone level,
"The battle, recovering the pump, the strafing run.  I think that in
the interest of this mission's success, I have to be assured that you
don't feel tired or fatigued."
     Starbuck decided it was safe to enter the conversation.
     "She has a point, Apollo," he said, "Bojay, Jolly and a dozen
other pilots are just as qualified for EVA duty and setting charges. 
If you feel just the slightest bit tired, you probably should sit this
one out."
     "I can't, Starbuck," Apollo's voice slowly rose, "I have to see
this whole thing through.  And as it is, we're not exactly helping the
mission by wasting time finding another warrior, and spending another
five centons giving him a briefing.  Now I am fine."
     Sheba decided it was best not to persist, "Okay," she said and
then smiled weakly, "But if you don't do it right, I'm going to
personally finish the job I almost did of blowing you out of the sky."
     Her remark broke the tension in the air and Apollo relaxed into a
smile, "Since I know you're as much a perfectionist as your father is,
I know I've got more incentive to be on the ball.  We'll wait for your
signal as soon as your ship's over the area."
     "Good luck," she said as they went their separate ways.
     But after Sheba had gone a few feet, she stopped and looked back
at Apollo's receding form.
     "You're quite a perfectionist too, Apollo," she whispered to
herself.


     "We've reached the final fall-back positions, Colonel," there was
a note of exhaustion in Jorda's voice for the first time all day, "From
this point on, my men can only stand where they are until the fire
overtakes them."
     "They won't have to, Jorda," Tigh said over headset, "In another
fifteen centons, you're to pull all your teams out."
     There was a brief pause, as the Chief Fireman wondered if his
headset was now being affected by the heat.
     "Could you repeat that, Colonel?"
     "You heard me," the executive officer was firm, "In fifteen
centons, you're to get all your men off Alpha Deck.  We're setting
charges to the hull outside, and hoping to put out the fire by exposing
the areas to the vacuum.  Your fire suits aren't strong enough to
handle the pressure loss, so you'll have to be out of there before we
blow those charges."
     "Yes, it's pretty obvious that's the only option you've got left,"
Jorda admitted, "Colonel, when will the charges be blown?"
     "Right now, the best estimate is about twenty to twenty five
centons."
     "Well if that's the case Colonel, you'll have to give us more than
fifteen until we evacuate," the Chief Fireman protested, "Leaving this
fire unchecked for ten centons or even five is going to cause this ship
to go up before you have the charges ready."
     "You need a safety factor Jorda, or else there's no way you'll get
off that deck alive before the charges blow."
     "Well in the interest of survival Colonel, that safety factor is
going to be lowered.  I'll start removing those who aren't manning the
boraton, but the hoses in our final lines of defense are staying until
the last possible micron."
     "Jorda," Tigh said patiently, "I'll cut as much slack as I
possibly can, but the micron I give the final order to go, I expect you
to obey it."
     "And if I don't follow it and the gamble doesn't pay off, what's
my punishment going to be, Colonel?" Jorda sarcastically retorted, "No
honor guard for my funeral?"
     Tigh slowly shook his head in exasperation, and decided that the
Chief Fireman had been through too much to merit a harsh response.
     "Jorda," he said calmly, "Just don't take any unnecessary risks. 
Keep this channel open at all times." 
     "Yes sir," Jorda sighed, "Standing by."
     As soon as Tigh ended the conversation he turned around and saw a
sheepish Omega holding a tray with more than twelve large pieces of
sweet-smelling blue candy.
     "The mushies sir," he said as he handed it to Tigh, "As
requested."
     Tigh rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief as he took
the tray and gently set it down on the inside of the duct.
     "Omega," he said, "In the midst of all this destruction, why do I
suddenly feel like a character in the middle of an Aquarian comedy
farce?"


     In the operating section of the Life Station, Adama's pod had been
moved into position.  Cassiopeia had already gone through the
Ultrasonic Scrub procedure and donned her mask and gown, and now stood
over Adama as she waited for Salik.
     "We'll apply the anesthesia in a few microns, Commander."
     Adama didn't open his eyes, "Salik....is good.  I'm not...
afraid."
     "Of course," Cassiopeia smiled behind her mask, "When you wake up,
you'll be fine, the Galactica will be fine, and Boxey and Athena will
be waiting to talk to you."
     "The...hand of the Lord...is with us," he whispered, "He's...
protected us...all this time.  He won't....forsake us now....Not when
our journey....isn't finished."
     Cassiopeia then lowered the anesthetic mask over Adama's nose and
mouth.  Adama's labored words than ceased as he drifted out into
unconsciousness.
     Salik then entered the room in full surgical garb.
     "All right," he said in the same professional tone he adopted
before every operation he'd ever performed, "Let's get started."


     The heat inside the storage compartment grew ever more
suffocating, as Boomer finally discarded his flight jacket.  Three of
the twenty people had already succumbed to the increasingly unbearable
conditions and slipped into unconsciousness, and Boomer knew that
without additional oxygen, it would only be a matter of time before
their unconscious sleep would slip another level into death.
     He almost wondered if he should envy them.  At least they wouldn't
have to be awake and feel the increased terror within, as the oxygen
continued to dissipate and the danger of suffocation became more real. 
Or if that didn't come first, they didn't have to be terrified by the
sight of the smoke coming through the door and wondering when the power
of the fire on the other side would explode through the door and burn
them to death in a wall of flame.
     He looked back at the duct.  Muffit had been gone almost a centar
now.  He had to admit that it seemed more likely now that the gamble
he'd tried had failed.  They were still stranded at the bottom of the
Piscean Canyon and hadn't been able to climb an inch.
     I should tear that fracking Wilker's head off, he thought.  He's
the one who built that damned daggit, couldn't he at least have
designed it to do something better than learn how to sniff out a mushy?
     Boomer abruptly shook his head and took a breath.  He realized
that his mind was starting to drift off as he grew more starved for
oxygen.  He couldn't afford to let that happen.  Not yet.
     He looked over at Athena.  The commander's daughter had placed a
protective arm around Boxey, who was now clinging to his aunt with a
sense of increased fear.
     The little boy had been through a lot in his short life.  He had
faced the prospect of sudden violent death not once, but three times. 
On Caprica, when during the Holocaust, the Cylon fighters leveling
Caprica City had streaked over his head, and his mother Serina had
dragged him out of the way before one of the downtown structures had
toppled and collapsed in the Plaza  where the worthless sign PEACE had
been spelled out.  On Carillon, where the little boy's love for his
daggit had led him to wander off into the deep reaches of the planet
where the Cylon patrols were waiting to spring their trap on the people
who had gathered there.  On Arcta, when his inquisitive sense of
adventure led him to stow away on the shuttlecraft taking the team of
warriors to the planet for their dangerous mission of destroying the
Cylon laser cannon.
     But as he looked at Boxey and saw how the little boy's arms were
tightly wrapped around Athena, Boomer had the feeling that in spite of
all those hellish, past experiences, this was the first time that Boxey
truly felt afraid.
     Then again, he thought further, he'd been through even more
hellish experiences as a warrior.  And while he'd long-known what it
felt like to be afraid, he couldn't help but think that when compared
to the prospect of being blasted out of the sky by a Cylon fighter, or
shot in the chest by a centurion, this was by far, a more frightening
way to die.
     He settled next to Athena and let out a sigh.
     "You know," he said aloud, "I almost feel insulted.  I took my
warrior's oath and said I'd be willing to die for the Colonial nation,
but the storage closet of the Rejuvenation Center wasn't quite what I
had in mind."
     Athena let out a grim chuckle as she continued to stroke Boxey's
head.  Once again, Boomer had demonstrated that he certainly didn't
have any kind of deathwish inside him.
     Not at all like Apollo, she thought.
     She looked down at Boxey and another troubling thought went
through her.  If they failed to make it, would the subconscious desire
for death that she was convinced lurked somewhere inside her brother,
suddenly become more manifest?
     As if she were already accepting the inevitable about their fate,
she suddenly found herself praying more for Apollo than for themselves.

     
     Apollo and Starbuck entered the airlock that led to hatch number
fourteen.  With the swiftness instilled in them by their warrior
training, they had their bulky pressure suits on in less than two
centons.
     Before putting the clear helmets on, Apollo opened the box they
had picked up in the Ordinance section.  Inside were twelve,
hand-shapes high-level explosive charges.
     "We each take six," he said, "Attach three on each side of your
suit."
     Starbuck pulled one out and attached it to the velcro backing on
the upper left side of his suit, "Boy, this sure gives new meaning to
carrying a lot of firepower on you."
     Apollo rolled his eyes and adjusted his headset.
     "Colonel Tigh, this is Apollo.  We should be away in another
centon.  Tell Sheba to launch and wait for us."
     "Affirmative."
     "Any sign of Muffit?" he added.
     Tigh sighed, hating to give the answer he now had to make, "No
Apollo.  And I have to be blunt with you.  In another fifteen centons,
I'm having all the ducts leading from the fire areas sealed off.  If
the explosions work, we have to keep the vacuum from getting into the
other areas of the ship."
     Apollo lowered his head in dejection.  Once again, the sick image
of Stone and Jansen flashed through his head, and with it the increased
anxiety he felt about Athena and Boxey.
     "I understand," he said calmly, "Will report again as soon as
we're on the hull."
     He cast a glance at Starbuck, who had finished attaching the rest
of the charges to his suit and was looking at him with concern.
     "Come on buddy," Starbuck said gently, "You don't want Sheba to
make good on her promise."
     Apollo smiled reassuringly as his professional instincts returned
to him, and he lowered his helmet on to his head.


     "You're cleared to launch, Sheba," Tigh radioed, "Assume position
at contact range of eight microns from hull.  Stay in holding pattern
until further notice."
     There was no response as Sheba hit the launch button and her viper
roared off.
     Tigh calmly adjusted his headset as he heard the static from her
viper launch crackle through his ears.  He then frowned and tugged at
it again.  It almost sounded as if the static was lingering longer than
it should have.
     But then, Tigh's frown deepened when he realized that the
lingering sound wasn't coming from his headset but was coming from
behind him.
     "Colonel, look!" Omega blurted.
     The executive officer turned around and did a double-take when he
saw the sight of an orange robot daggit in the duct, bumping into the
tray of mushies and sending it to the floor in a loud clatter.
     "I don't believe it," he said as he and the bridge officer dashed
up to the duct and took Muffit out, "It actually worked."
     "There's a message on him," Omega took the rolled-up piece of
paper out of Muffit's collar and handed it to Tigh.
     "'Twenty people cut off in storage compartment three, adjacent to
Rejuvenation Center,'" Tigh read aloud, "'Eight injured.  Only five
lifemasks.  Air becoming unbreathable.  Athena and Boxey safe at
present.  Need additional lifemasks and instructions-Boomer.'"
     The executive officer looked at Omega with an increased sense of
urgency, "Put forty lifemasks in a bag, and get some string to tie on
to his tail."
     Omega nodded and ran off to the storage locker on the other side
of the bridge.
     Tigh incredulously shook his head as he patted Muffit's head and
then picked up one of the mushies that had fallen out of the tray.
     "Saved by a mushy," he said under his breath, "I am living in an
Aquarian comedy farce."


     "Beta Zone report."
     "She's getting closer sir," Fitzgerald replied, "Won't be much
longer and another flare-up's going to blow the Energizer door off."
     "Stand by," Jorda switched frequencies, "Gamma Zone, report."
     "The flare-ups have been quiet over here, sir," this from Sanchez,
"I think we've slowed the momentum again but the bulkhead wall has
really taken a bad beating."
     Jorda stopped to think as his mind went over the blueprints of the
Galactica he'd been studying earlier.
     Suddenly, he snapped his fingers in spite of his thick gloves,
"Sanchez, listen up.  There's an auxiliary turbo-lift on the other side
of the solium tanks.  As soon as I get word from Tigh that half of the
explosives are in place, I want you to put all your effort into getting
that wall down, and part of the ceiling.  Get it to block the corridor
and act as a temporary fire wall.  As soon as you've done that, leave
your hose valves in the on position and get over to that lift and get
off this deck as fast as you can."
     "Sir, that wall wouldn't last more than five centons as a
barrier."
     "That's long enough," Jorda said, "I don't want the fire in that
zone to accelerate once I have to pull your group out of there.  Just
stand by for now."
     The lights above the Chief Fireman suddenly dimmed again, and
stayed out for two long microns before coming on again.
     "Beta Zone?" he urgently signaled.
     "We're okay, sir," Fitzgerald nervously exhaled, "It didn't blow
the door open, but the next one just might."
     "I'm on my way over," Jorda said and then turned to Danta and the
other firemen still stationed at the hose control system.
     "Okay, that's it men.  Nothing more to do here.  We're going to
pitch in and help Fitzgerald's team right up to the last possible
micron."
     

     "Micro laser," Salik extended his gloved hand.
     Cassiopeia handed him the instrument that would enable him to make
the precise incision in Adama's chest that would open only the amount
of the heart that needed to be exposed.
     Another one of the miracles of modern medicine that he had spoken
of with pride to Apollo, long ago in the day.  As a medical student,
Salik had always been horrified by the accounts in his textbooks of how
operations, especially those on the heart and the brain, had been
conducted in the fourth and fifth millennia.  In those days, the tools
were all non-electronic, and little more than crudely forged pieces of
metal.  Sterility of equipment was an unknown concept, and infection
following an operation a frequent side-effect of even the most
successful ones.
     He'd often met his share of people who expressed a yearning to
live in the simpler times of the past, at times he even sensed it in
Apollo, but Salik was never impressed by any of their argument.  As far
as he was concerned, if the Lord had fated him to be a part of the
medical profession, then the first debt of thanks he owed to the Lord
was that he'd also been fated to be a man of the seventh millennium.
     As he turned the micro laser scalpel on and held it above Adama's
body, the lights suddenly dimmed and went out.  The pulsing tone of the
equipment again slowed down to that annoying muffle.
     Salik and Cassiopeia were both silent as their eyes darted about
the room.  They were both too tense to say anything.
     Then, after two microns, the lights came back on and the equipment
again returned to its normal tone.
     Cassiopeia calmly looked him in the eye, "If that happens again
while you're probing the heart wall..." she trailed off.
     "I know," Salik nodded, "There'll be no way of getting it out,
closing him up, or keeping the anesthesia flow going."
     The med-tech had long ago learned not to intimidated by Salik's
occasionally graphic descriptions.  It was all a part of the learning
process for her.  If she wanted to advance to an even greater position
in medicine, she had to learn to feel no emotions over something like
that at all.  Not even when the subject was about someone as dear to
her as Commander Adama.
     Slowly, Salik lowered the instrument to within an inch of Adama's
chest and activated the incisor beam.


     Omega sprinted back to Tigh, carrying the bag filled with
lifemasks.  The executive officer had just finished scribbling another
note, and had attached it to Muffit's metallic collar.
     "I hope he gets back there in time," Tigh gritted his teeth as he
and Omega tied the strings on the bag to the daggit's tail, "Ten more
centons, and I'm shutting off the ducts."
     Once he was certain that the bag was firmly attached, he knelt
down in front of the robot.
     "Muffit," he said as firmly as he'd spoken with Commander Kronus,
"Go back to Boxey.  Boxey.  Go back quickly to Boxey.  Now."
     The daggit let out a yelp and almost instinctively jumped back
into the duct.  Tigh and Omega kept their eye on Muffit until it was
gone from view.
     He then moved back to the main computer console and switched on
his headset again.
     "Apollo?"
     "We're suited up, Colonel," Apollo answered, "We're depressurizing
the airlock and should open the hatch in another centon."
     "I have good news," Tigh said, "Muffit finally showed up.  We just
sent him back with forty lifemasks."
     A relieved sigh suddenly filled Tigh's headset.
     "What'd I tell you, pal?" Starbuck chimed in, and the executive
officer could picture him grinning and giving his friend a nudge,
"Nothing to worry about."
     "We've finally done all we can for them, Apollo," Tigh added,
"From here on in, their survival is all in your hands."
     As he switched the frequency off, Omega looked up at the executive
officer with a small amount of concern.
     "Sir," the bridge officer asked, "Do you think that was a good
idea?  That last remark?"
     "With any other man, no," Tigh responded, "But Apollo's different. 
Knowing he's in control of the fates somehow makes him a model of
precision."


     Slowly, Sheba brought her viper into position just above the
section of the hull where Apollo and Starbuck would soon emerge.  She
felt much more emotionally tense than she had been during either the
battle or the strafing run.  In both of those instances, she had been
able to bury her inner emotions by concentrating on the tasks that were
at hand.  But this time,  her only task was to watch and wait, and as a
result, she felt those emotions much more difficult to contain.
     "I'm now in position, Colonel," she radioed.
     "Affirmative," Tigh replied, "Apollo and Starbuck have opened the
hatch.  They should be emerging any micron now."
     She looked down at hatch number fourteen, located some four 
hundred feet across from the port landing bay wing.  A large number of
hatches and handrails dotted the battlestar's exterior.  They had been
designed to allow easy access for external maintenance crews whenever
the Galactica had returned home to the massive space repair station on
Caprica for refitting and repair.
     Slowly, the hatch door slid open and a figure wearing a bulky
space suit, glided weightlessly out, followed immediately by another.
     "I have them in view now, I won't let them out of my sight," Sheba
then strained her eyes forward and frowned, "Colonel, they're not using
any tethers."
     "Apollo?  Starbuck?" the executive officer radioed back with
concern.
     "Yes, Colonel," Apollo answered, "We already decided that the
weightlessness is going to slow us down too much as it is.  Using the
tethers would delay us even longer."
     Sheba felt her mouth go slightly dry and swallowed.  By not using
their tethers, the two warriors ran the risk of flying off the surface
of the Galactica right out into space.
     "All right Apollo," Tigh said, "You and Starbuck get started now. 
The temperature areas in both the Energizer room and the solium tanks
are a micron away from jumping into the critical zones."
     "We'll go as fast as we can, Colonel," Apollo said as he took hold
of the handrail on the top of hatch fourteen and motioned to his
friend, "Okay, Starbuck, let's get moving.  The first charges go about
ten feet in front of the hatch, right there."
     "I'm right with you," Starbuck's nervous breathing was much more
evident as he carefully maneuvered himself down to the next handrail. 
with his left hand on the rail, he gently removed the charge on the
upper right side of his suit with his other hand.
     He could feel the powerful force of weightlessness trying to throw
him off the great battlestar, and it was a struggle to completely block
that sensation from his mind and proceed.
     Slowly, he placed the first charge down and flicked the power
switch.  It was now active.
     He glanced over at Apollo, who was twenty feet across from him and
had placed his first charge down as well.
     Above, Sheba's mounting tension and concern finally cracked
through, "Don't get careless," she said, "You could lose your grip just
once and you'll be floating through space forever."
     "Yeah, thanks for the warning, Sheba," Starbuck replied with a
tinge of sarcasm as the nervous sensation shot through him again.  But
as he stopped to reflect for just a bit, he almost wondered if her
statement had been more aimed at Apollo than the both of them.
     Sheba let out an inaudible sigh as she locked her viper control
into neutral.  Concerned as she might have been about Starbuck, the
brash lieutenant's hunch was entirely correct.
     Slowly, one handrail at a time, the two warriors glided their way
over to the next position, twenty feet down toward the landing bay
wing.


     Jorda had reached Beta Zone, where Fitzgerald's team continued
struggling to hold off the increased charge of the flames.  It was
reaching the point where even inside his well-insulated suit, the Chief
Fireman could feel his skin start to blister slightly.
     "Pour more hose on!" he motioned Danta and the other new arrivals
from the hose control station.
     Two new jets of boraton were added to the mix, but the fire had
now reached the point where it didn't even seem to hold up the
inferno's progress.
     "Colonel, are they at the halfway point yet?" he radioed, "I have
to know before I make a move in Gamma Zone." 
     "Not yet," Tigh replied, "I'll signal you when they are.  In the
meantime, I'm having all the ducts leading from the fire zones shut
off.  Make sure all your men have lifemasks on, now."
     "Yes sir, we've already done that," the Chief Fireman switched
frequencies, "Sanchez?"
     "Getting worse sir," the alarm was increasing in his voice,    
"We'd like to get that bulkhead wall down, now."
     "Not yet!" Jorda fired back, "Not until I tell you!  You start on
that thing too soon, and you're signing this ship's death warrant!"
     His angry words immediately left their mark on Sanchez.  When the
fireman replied, his tone was much more resigned, "Yes sir. We--frack,
another flare-up!"
     Jorda tensed himself and waited for Sanchez to speak again.
     "We're okay sir," Sanchez spoke after a delay, "But I think you
now understand why we're anxious to get started."
     "I know," the Chief Fireman admitted and sucked in his breath as
the fire grew closer toward him, "I know.  Standby."


     "Sir," Omega pointed to the temperature monitors for both the
Energizer and solium rooms.
     Tigh grimly shook his head as he saw the needle for the solium
room jump in to the critical red zone.  Once it moved further into that
color zone, that would be the end of things.
     "Apollo's moving on to his third position," Sheba's voice filled
his headset, "Starbuck's just finishing the second."
     "Apollo?" the executive officer tried not to sound impatient, "How
much longer?"
     "Just another fifteen centons, Colonel."
     "Right now, I don't think you have it," he responded, "The solium
tanks just went into the critical zone."
     "Boy, we're sure surrounded by some real confidence-boosters,
aren't we?" Starbuck let out another chuckle over his nervous breaths. 
"Colonel, if time does run out, then could we just explode the charges
already in place?" 
     "Negative Starbuck" Tigh shook his head vigorously, "Unless we
blow them exactly in the calculated pattern, the hull will not be
opened sufficiently to smother the fire.  It has to be all twelve of
them, and it has to be in time.  Now notify me as soon as you're at the
halfway point."
     The executive officer then moved over to the duct where Muffit had
disappeared on his journey back with the lifemasks.  He then took a
breath and came back to Omega's console.
     "One more centon, and I'm closing the ducts," he said, "That
daggit had better be back there now."


     Boomer felt increasingly dizzy as he loosened the collar of his
tunic in response to the heat.  It was getting more and more
unbearable.
     He was almost resigned to the idea that the end of the line had
come for him.  If that was the case, he supposed he could look back on
his life with no regrets.  He'd enjoyed himself.  He'd excelled at the
profession he'd chosen.  There wasn't much to regret.
     No, he thought.  There was one regret.  With the end fast
approaching, he could now openly chide himself for never having had the
strength to ask the beautiful female pilot Dietra out for a quiet
dinner on the Rising Star.
     He knew he was drifting off into that lightheaded condition that
was the first step toward death.  But if it numbed him to what would
come afterwards, perhaps that was a blessing.  Yes, he could feel it
increasing.  He was even starting to hear funny noises.  Almost
like....
     "Muffy!" Boxey suddenly bolted up from Athena's side.
     The boy's exclamation shook Boomer back into the realm of
comprehension.  His mouth dropped open when he saw the robot daggit
climb out of the vent and into the storage compartment, a large bag
trailing from his tail.
     "Thank God," Athena whispered, "Thank God."
     As Boxey hugged his pet, Boomer and several of the non-injured
warriors removed the bag and spilled its precious contents of lifemasks
out on to the floor.  He immediately grabbed one and strapped it over
his mouth and nose.
     The cool, clean sensation of the fresh oxygen was the most
rapturous thing he'd felt in his entire life as it suddenly blew all of
the lightheadedness and dizziness out.  In a micron, Boomer had
regained all of his critical faculties.
     "Get them passed around!" he barked as he placed one on Boxey and
handed one to Athena, "Looks as though they gave us two each."
     He placed his hands on Muffit, looking for some kind of note. 
Below the robot's neck, he found it jammed into one of the collars.
     Before he got it opened, the door to the vent from which Muffit
had only just emerged from, suddenly slammed shut with a loud thud.
     Boomer looked down at the daggit and shook his head, "Muffy, your
timing is impeccable."
     "Boomer, what's going on?" Athena came up to him with her mask now
firmly in place.
     "Sealing the vents, they must be planning something drastic," he
then opened the paper.
     "Everyone, listen!" Athena raised her voice.
     With everyone now wearing their lifemasks, a hush came over the
room.
     "'Fire out of control and threatening both Energizer and solium
tanks,'" Boomer read aloud, "'Hull is being blasted open to smother
fire in all sections.  Rescue teams will be sent in as soon as
compartment corridors next to you are repressurized-Tigh.'"
     A low murmur went up from the crowd.
     "Okay, brace yourselves everyone," Boomer said, "We just have to
sit tight, and wait.  If the doors on either side of us don't stand-up
to the explosions, then that's it.  If we come through though, then
we'll just sit tight and wait.  They gave us an extra mask each, so it
could be up to two centars before they're here.  In the meantime, get
yourselves ready."
     Boomer moved back to the other end of the room and settled down
next to Athena.
     "Blowing charges on the hull," he sighed, "How much are you 
willing to bet that Starbuck and Apollo are not out there doing that as
we speak?"
     The commander's daughter smiled and shook her head, "The same
amount I was willing to bet that the Cylons would give you a birthday
party."
     He smiled back at her, "Looks as though you did learn something
from dating Starbuck after all."
     "'There are jewels of wisdom to be found, amidst even the darkest
and most turbulent of storms,'" Athena recited with mock solemnity.
     Boomer let out a muffled chuckle, "Athena, remind me to tell you
someday how much I've hated Aquarian proverbs since the day I was first
told to read them in primary school."
     "I'm glad you hate them," Athena's smile widened, "If you hadn't,
then you wouldn't have spent all those evenings hot-wiring hovermobiles
instead."
     For the first time since before the attack, Boomer felt
comfortable to laugh heartily. 
     Just then, Boxey came back over to them, a look of pure pride on
his face as Muffit trailed him.
     "You see, Boomer?" he settled between the two of them, and his
voice brightened for the first time in a long while, "I told you Muffy
would come through."
     "He sure did, Boxey," the warrior smiled as he patted the daggit's
head.
     Well, Boomer thought to himself, it looked as though he'd now be
seeing Wilker to shake the scientist's hand rather than tear his head
off.


     "Suction clamp," Salik said with calm precision as he studied the
open area of Adama's heart wall.  The small piece of metal, probably
from the bridge ceiling, was now plainly in view.
     Cassiopeia handed him the device and the surgeon delicately
lowered to within a fraction of an inch above the piece of metal.    He
then activated the switch, and with the gentle current flowing through
the instrument, the metallic fragment suddenly lifted itself very
slowly from Adama.
     Without brushing further against the heart wall, just as the
instrument was designed to prevent it from doing, the fragment locked
tightly in place to the instrument's clamp.
     Slowly, Salik pulled the clamp from out of the open heart are.
     When it was finally away, Salik seemed to exhale behind his mask.
     "Okay," he sounded more relieved, "Apply massage, and then prepare
to close him up."
     Behind her mask, Cassiopeia allowed herself a faint smile.  Once
again, Salik was demonstrating why she admired him so much.  She looked
down at Adama and slowly felt a sense of relief come over her.  The
worst of the operation was now over.
     But then again, the med-tech thought further as she handed Salik
the device that would massage Adama's heart back to a normal rhythm,
there was still the danger that after all this work, Fate could still
play a cruel trick on them all if the ship didn't come through.


     It was getting more and more unbearable for Sanchez's team as they
continued to fight the blaze in Gamma Section, and anxiously awaited
the signal to start getting the bulkhead down.
     Finally, Sanchez heard the words from Jorda go through his
headset, "Okay, they're at the halfway point!  Get the bulkhead down,
now!"
     "Thank you, sir!" Sanchez allowed himself a smile of relief, as he
turned to Ezra, "Okay, let's get on it!"
      The two of them now aimed their boraton hoses at the top of the
ceiling and along the walls instead of at the blaze just fifteen feet
away.  From behind, Fireman Homer had abandoned his position at the
pump station and had trudged his way through the mist where he started
pulling at the loosened sections.
     "Watch your footing!" Sanchez warned, as the memory of Jansen
flashed through his mind.
     Finally, after another two centons of effort, the ceiling and
walls of the corridor bulkhead groaned in agony as the stress of the
fire and boraton pressure finally took their toll on them.  Homer
carefully started to back away, as the noise of the metal groan
increased.
     The ceiling and walls then collapsed in directly in front of the
fire, forming a barrier against the blaze.  Abruptly, the intensity of
the heat against Sanchez's skin slackened just a bit.  But it was clear
that the debris would only hold the blaze back for a few centons at
best, before its massive power would then roar through and continue its
deadly journey toward the solium tanks.
     As Homer drew closer to them, another piece of ceiling debris
suddenly fell and landed on his back, knocking the fireman to the
floor.
     "Frack!" Sanchez dropped his still active hose and agonizingly
made his way forward.  Homer was clearly unconscious from the blow.
     "Give me a hand with him!" he shouted at Ezra.
     Even before he had spoken, the other veteran of the pump retrieval
mission had dropped his hose and made his way forward.  Amidst the
flood of boraton that now swirled around their ankles against the
barrier, it was a slow struggle to get the unconscious Homer to his
feet, so they could start dragging him out.
     "Sanchez?" Jorda's voice shouted through the headset, "Sanchez,
report!"
     The fireman barely got hold of his headset to make the adjustment
as he continued to help Ezra drag Homer forward, "It's in place, sir. 
We're evacuating now!"
     A jet of flame roared against the barrier on the other side. 
Already, the temporary barrier had begun to lose its effectiveness as a
trickle of flame made it through the openings and grazed against
Sanchez's insulated suit.
     "Come on!" he shouted, "Let's move!"
     As the doors to the solium tank room loomed closer, he wondered if
Fate was going to play the same cruel joke on him that it had done for
Stone and Jansen.
     Finally, like reaching the light at the end of the tunnel, they
made their way past the boraton flow.  Ezra activated the door to the
solium room and the two firemen dragged their injured comrade inside.
     Sanchez cast a glance at the large solium tanks around them, each
one filled with its lethal contents that would turn the Galactica into
a supernova as soon as the fire outside reached the interior of this
room.  The sight of them towering around him, and the realization of
what they could do was almost enough to unnerve him completely.
     "Get the lift open," he gestured to Ezra, "I'll manage him."
     Ezra nodded and dashed over to the other side of the room. 
Sanchez threw off the hood of his fire suit, as well as Homer's, and
began to slowly carry the unconscious fireman's body across.
     Ahead, Ezra had reached the turbo-lift door and was standing
inside, a look of frantic tension on his face.
     It was not going to be a swift journey across.
     He heard a crashing sound from behind and his heart skipped a
beat.  The barrier was clearly weakening further.
 
     
     "We're clearing out of Gamma Zone, Colonel.  We'll stick it out in
Beta Zone a bit longer."
     "Okay, Jorda," Tigh's heart was starting to pound faster as he
kept his eye on the temperature monitors.  The solium room had leveled
off after entering the critical zone, but the Energizer room level was
creeping further and further into the red.
     "Finishing level four," Sheba's voice had gone up a degree of
anxiety, "Now moving toward the landing bay wing and level five."
     "Apollo?" the executive officer radioed.
     "Five more centons, Colonel."
     Tigh kept staring at the temperature gauges, "If I had a choice,
I'd say no.  But I don't have a choice, so keep at it."
     Slowly, Apollo and Starbuck made their way down the side of the
battlestar toward the top of the landing bay wing.  Here, the external
damage caused the by Cylon fighter's impact was much more obvious. 
Several regions of the surface were already scarred by the force of the
initial explosions.
     "These last two zones are spaced relatively close," Apollo said as
Starbuck pulled alongside him.  The twenty foot gap between them when
they had set the earlier charges had now narrowed to only two, "Won't
be much longer."
     As Starbuck continued to make his way down the handrails, he
grabbed one that had been weakened from the original explosion.  The
blackened piece of metal instantly snapped off in his hand like a twig.
     "Apollo!" Starbuck shouted as the weightlessness started carrying
him away from the battlestar.
     Apollo looked up in horror.  He frantically pushed himself to the
next handrail and extended his other hand as far as he possibly could.
     He grabbed hold of Starbuck's foot and slowly pulled him back down
to the intact handrail below.
     Watching from above, Sheba had felt her heart jump into her
throat.  As she saw Starbuck safely pulled back, she smiled and let out
a more pronounced sigh of relief.
     "Somehow, thank you doesn't seem like enough," Starbuck said, too
numb to make a joke.
     "Forget it," for the first time, the sound of Apollo's nervous
breath was audible, "We still have a lot of work to do."
     

     Cassiopeia handed the micro sealer to Salik.  One final procedure,
and the operation would be over, and Adama's recovery all but assured.
     Slowly, the incision in Adama's chest was closed under the beam of
the micro sealer.  Again, Salik felt a debt of thanks to seventh
millennia equipment.  To think that there had actually been a time when
incisions had to be closed with stitches made from thread and string,
leaving ugly scars along the opening!  But with micro sealers, there
was never a trace of the operation left behind.  Not even an operation
of this magnitude.
     Finally, Salik shut off the instrument and pulled off his mask.
     "That's it," he sighed, "We've done it.  Get him back out into the
main room."
     Cassiopeia took hold of Adama's table and started pushing it out
of the area.  As she reached the end, the lights suddenly dimmed again. 
This time, they stayed out a full five microns before coming back on.
     Now that the operation was over, her sense of professional inner
calm evaporated.  For the first time since she'd been captured by the
Ovions on Carillon, a creeping sense of terror started to come over
her.


     "Get the turbo-lift ready," Jorda motioned to Danta as he stared
down the corridor at the fast approaching wall of fire.
     Danta set down his hose and went over to the turbo-lift door just
ten feet further down from the Energizer door entrance.
     "Here comes another flare-up!" Fitzgerald shouted and ducked.
     Jorda and the three other fireman followed.
     This time, the jet of flame crashed into the Energizer door and
succeeded in blowing the compartment door away.  The sleek piece of
equipment was now exposed to the path of the next flare.
     Above, the lights went out for five microns before coming back on.
     "That's it," the Chief Fireman said through clenched teeth, "One
more flare, and it's all over."
     "Sir!" Danta shouted as he stepped into the open lift, "Let's pull
out now!"
     "Not yet!" Jorda shouted back and shook his head vigorously, "Not
yet!"
     And then, the Chief Fireman picked up Danta's discarded hose and
started working on the blaze himself.


     "Hurry Apollo," Tigh continued to feel his heart pound as he saw
the gauge for the Energizer continue to creep forward.  The solium
gauge had also started to inch forward again, "An extra micron could
make the difference."  
     "We're setting the last ones now, Colonel," the tension was now
rising in his voice too.
     As Starbuck placed his last one on the top of the landing bay, he
then started to make his way back up the side in the direction of hatch
number twenty, which would serve as their re-entry point into the ship.
     "Apollo?" he called over.
     "My last two have magnetic bases, Starbuck," his friend replied,
"I'll pull myself across with them.  There's another handrail back to
hatch twenty on the other side."
     "Frack," his friend muttered under his breath.  His friend hadn't
told him that he'd saved the last two, more difficult charges for
himself to place.
     "Don't worry about me," Apollo went on, "I'll see you inside."
     But even though Starbuck managed to awkwardly wave back in
acknowledgment, inside he was deeply worried.  The way the explosives
had been divided up, Apollo had taken a far greater risk than he should
have allowed.
     Are you subconsciously trying to get yourself killed, buddy? he
said to himself.
     From above, a similar question was forming in Sheba's mind.  She
could feel her heart pounding with frantic intensity as she saw Apollo
slowly move further down the top of the landing bay wing. 


     "Come on," Ezra gritted his teeth as he held the turbo-lift door
open and waited for Sanchez to finish his slow journey carrying the
unconscious Homer the rest of the way.
     From behind, they heard another violent crash.  Ezra didn't need
more than a micron to realize that the fire barrier had collapsed.
     Five feet away, an exhausted and panting Sanchez set Homer down on
his feet and literally shoved the unconscious fireman into the door,
where he collapsed on to the turbo-lift floor.
     Ezra grabbed Sanchez by the hand and pulled him in.  He then
frantically pressed the buttons that would send the lift up three decks
to safety.
     As the doors slammed shut, the last thing Sanchez and Ezra could
see in the solium room was the sight of the compartment door collapsing
on the other end.


     "Colonel," Omega pointed to the gauges, "I think our time has run
out."
     Tigh felt his breath quicken, "Jorda, evacuate all your remaining
men!  Now!" he shouted into his headset.


     "All right, get out!  All of you into the turbo-lift!" Jorda
shouted over the roar.
     Fitzgerald and the other two firemen dropped their hoses and made
their way over to the lift where Danta waited.
     But the Chief Fireman did not move from his position.  With his
hood off, and his teeth gritted with determination, he continued aiming
his boraton hose at the approaching inferno.
     "Sir!" Danta shouted, "Get in the lift!"
     "I'm keeping a stream on her!" Jorda didn't look back, "It's the
only way to keep that last flare from happening.  Never mind me, just
go now!"
     Danta looked at Fitzgerald and the other two.  The three of them
nodded at him and motioned him out.
     "Sir!" Danta stepped out and took a step back towards Jorda, "We
are not leaving this deck without you, and you can't make us go!  We've
done all we can, now come with us!"
     Jorda angrily looked back at him as he kept his hose going, "I'm
giving you an order Danta!  Get off this deck now!"
     "Hades Hole, sir!" he shouted, "We're not going without you!"
     Just then, there was a groaning sound, as the ceiling and wall
five feet ahead of them, abruptly caved in on the corridor.
     The approaching wall of fire had been temporarily stopped.
     Jorda's eyes widened in disbelief at the turn-of-events.
     "Sir!" Danta shouted again.
     This time, no prompting was needed.  The Chief Fireman threw down
his hose and the two of them sprinted into the turbo-lift.
     Fitzgerald set the lift to go three decks up as the doors slammed
shut.
     The two fire areas were now devoid of all life except for the
twenty people trapped in the storage compartment.


     With agonizing sluggishness, Apollo used the metal bases of the
two charges to crawl over to the last spot on the landing bay where
they needed to be placed.
     He came to a stop and sized up the handrail thirty feet away that
would guide him back to hatch twenty.  He would have to time a leap for
it, and hope that he could grab hold of it before the force of
weightlessness carried him away from the battlestar.
     Apollo took a breath and let go of the charges.
     "Last charges in place, Colonel!" he shouted as he felt himself
moving rapidly toward the handrail.
     He reached out to it.  His gloves grazed the top of it....and
failed to grab hold.
     From the handrail opposite him, Starbuck watched in horror as
Apollo suddenly began to tumble end over end above the hull of the
battlestar.
     "Apollo!" he shouted in alarm.
     "Starbuck get inside," Apollo roared back as he moved further away
from the hull, "Those explosions are going to go off any micron now. 
There's nothing you can do!"
     "Want to bet?" Starbuck retorted as he stood on top of the
handrail and suddenly vaulted himself forward in Apollo's direction.


     Stunned by the exchange he had just heard, Tigh nonetheless wasted
no time.
     The executive officer took a breath and pressed the button
controlling the charges from the bridge.


     All twelve of the charges went off simultaneously.  Abruptly, an
explosion erupted along the surface of the battlestar that to Sheba,
almost rivaled the ones she had witnessed earlier in the day in
intensity.
     Both turbo-lifts had just opened three decks up when the charges
went off.  The fire teams inside promptly spilled to the floor of the
corridor as they felt the rumble of the blast beneath their feet.
     Inside the storage compartment, Boomer could hear the blast and
then there was a whooshing rush from outside both doors as they heard
the sound of the pressure escaping.
     "Brace yourselves!" he shouted as he backed against the wall and
threw his arm around both Athena and Boxey in protective support,
"Don't anyone move!"  
     He looked at the door that led back to the Rejuvenation Center and
instantly noticed that the ominous smoke cloud that had been creeping
underneath for a long time, had stopped.
     "It's working!" Athena raised her voice cautiously, "The fire's
going out!"
     "Let's pray the doors don't either!"
     Overhead, Sheba saw the blast column of the explosion dissipate,
and then focused her eyes on the landing bay entrance.
     The eerie orange glow once again dimmed.  And then, it abruptly
went out.  But this time, it would not start up again. 
     The massive wall of fire that had taken the lives of more than a
dozen firemen and endangered the lives of a thousand crewmembers with a
terror that not even the mightiest Cylon basestar had before instilled,
died in the blink of an eye.


     The force of the explosions were not felt at all on the bridge. 
Instead, Omega and Tigh both kept their eyes locked on the temperature
gauges for both the Energizer and the Solium.
     The needles that had been deep into the red zones abruptly fell
back into the green zones.
     An exhilarated rush went through Tigh, "That did it!" he
exclaimed, "That did it!"
     A loud cheer mixed with a great deal of relief suddenly went up
from the rest of the bridge personnel, as though a bubble had finally
burst.
     Omega burst into applause as he let out a loud, joyous laugh.
     But even as the realization that the danger to the ship was now
past, there was still one immediate area of concern for the executive
officer.
     "Apollo?" he blurted into his headset, "Starbuck?  Do either of
you copy?"
     There was no response.
     "Apollo?  Starbuck?" he repeated.


     Sheba had been stunned when she'd heard the exchange between
Apollo and Starbuck, and had then watched in horror as she saw them
both suddenly start rising like a kite into the sky before the
explosion caused her to lose sight of them.
     So great was her concern, that she didn't even feel much
exhilaration when she saw that the fire aboard the battlestar had gone
out.
     "Sheba?" she heard Tigh's voice.
     "I," her voice broke slightly, "I can't see them anywhere,
Colonel."
     "Good Lord," Tigh whispered, "The explosion must have gotten
them."
     Sheba took a breath and suddenly felt a rush of anger go through
her.  After seeing her father and all of her other friends aboard the
Pegasus taken from her only days ago, her psyche wasn't about to
contemplate the idea that her life would have to go on without the two
people aboard the Galactica she had come to feel closest too.
     "I refuse to believe that," she spoke defiantly, "I won't give up. 
I'm going to keep looking for them."
     Sheba took her viper out of its holding position, switched on her
scanners and activated her turbos.


     Three decks above the fire zones, the teams of firemen slowly got
back to their feet.
     Danta immediately noticed that Jorda seemed too weak to get up.
     "Are you okay, sir?" he asked as he took him by the hand and
pulled the Chief Fireman to a standing position.
     "I'm fine," Jorda's voice was a mere whisper.  Instantly, Danta
was amazed at how in a manner of minutes, Jorda had been transformed
from the grim and determined martyr he had tried to become, to a
seemingly spent and exhausted shell of his old decisive self.
     "Sir," Danta took him by the arm as a concerned Fitzgerald also
stepped in, "I think its safe to say that your job is done now.  I
don't think Colonel Tigh or anyone else is going to object if you go
back to your quarters and get some rest."
     Jorda calmly pushed them both aside.
     "There are still twenty people trapped down there in a storage
compartment," he said calmly, "I'm going to the bridge to get
instructions from Tigh on how we can help get them out."
     He then slowly trudged off to the turbo-lift at the other end of
the corridor.
     Behind him, Danta and Fitzgerald both shook their heads in amazed
admiration and almost felt the urge to start clapping.


     As the whooshing sound from outside the doors ceased, Boomer
finally decided it was safe to get to his feet.  He made his way over
and carefully placed his hand on the door that had earlier caused him
to withdraw it in pain because of the intense heat.
     This time, the door felt intensely cold to the touch.
     "Total vacuum out there," he said as he took another breath
through his mask and then faced the crowd.
     "Okay," he said, "The immediate danger is over.  The fire's out,
and we know they're going to try and send teams in here to get us out. 
Now obviously, it's going to take some time or they wouldn't have sent
us the extra masks.  For those of you who are injured, I know it's
asking a lot of you to have to wait some more.  But this time, I think
we can all feel a little secure that the worst danger has past, and
that help will be on the way real soon."
     He made his way back to Athena and Boxey and slowly collapsed to
the floor.
     "Another waiting phase," Athena sighed from under her mask, "This
actually makes me yearn for the old Caprica-Sagitara shuttle service."
     "Oh boy," Boomer rolled his eyes as memories flooded back, "Did I
ever have some long nights at the Caprica City Spacedrome waiting for
that."
     "Remember those little snack carts they used to wheel through the
terminal?" Athena reminisced, "The worst tasting protein chunks I ever
had in my life."
     "Don't remind me, Athena," he grunted, "Because you're reminding
me that there's no food in this room, and I haven't had a bite since
before the attack."
     "Why do you think I said this whole thing makes me yearn for
that?" she smiled back at him.   
     Boxey started tugging at Boomer's tunic.
     "Yes Boxey?"
     "Muffy's ready to go for more help," he said eagerly.
     "He can't Boxey," Boomer smiled and patted the little boy's head,
"The ducts he went through have been sealed off from the bridge.  I
think Muffy's done enough heroic deeds for one day."
     "Will he get a medal?" he asked as the robot let out another
energetic yelp.
     Boomer reached over and stroked the daggit's somewhat coarse, 
synthetic fur, "He sure will," he said, "He sure will."
     The only thing he wondered though, was how many other people would
be getting medals too?
     An even more chilling thought to wonder, was how many of them
would be posthumous?

     
     As Tigh continued to maintain his perch over Omega's console, he
found himself slowly rubbing his fingers to work off some of the new
tension he was now feeling.
     The bridge officer's ears suddenly perked up as another message
came in on his headset.
     "Colonel," he turned to the executive officer, "Message from the
Life Station.  Commander Adama is out of danger."
     Tigh allowed himself to smile for only a brief instant.
     "God help me," he said, "if the first thing I have to tell him is
that his son is dead."


     Sheba's eyes kept darting back and forth from her scanners to her
surrounding field-of-vision.  Inside, she only allowed herself to be
angry instead of concerned.  It was the only way she could keep herself
from becoming an emotional wreck.
     "Apollo!" she impulsively snapped, "Don't forget what I told you
before you went out, now you answer me, now!"
     There was still only silence.
     Slowly, she exhaled to let off some steam. 
     And then, something caught her attention in the corner of her eye. 
Something that seemed too large to be a distant star, but also too
small to be an approaching ship.
     Sheba drew her viper in closer, straining her eyes to get a better
look.
     Just then, she heard a crackling static go through her helmet,
     "She---can see---now."
     "Apollo?" her hopes cautiously went up, "Starbuck?  If that's you,
you're garbled.  Please repeat."
     As she drew closer and the form became more distinct, she
recognized them both.  They were holding on to each other with both
hands.
     "Sheba, we copy you," Apollo's voice broke into relief, "Sorry we
couldn't answer at first.  The explosion made it difficult to readjust
our headsets."
     Sheba broke into a smile of relief and joy, "Colonel Tigh!" for
the first time, her voice was jubilant, "I see them both.  They're
alive and well."
     "Thank God," Tigh finally let all the remaining tension escape
from him, "Thank God.  Apollo, can you hear me?"
     "Yes, Colonel," Apollo said as he peered at the awkwardly grinning
visage of his friend, "I'm safe.  Thanks to Starbuck."
     "We'll have a shuttle out to pick you up in a little bit."
     "My family?" he asked with an anxious edge.
     "Your father is fine," Tigh said with a renewed sense of
confidence, "And according to our computer reading, the storage
compartment doors withstood the explosion.  It'll only be a matter of
time before we get to them."
     "Thank you, sir," Apollo sighed, "Thank you."
     "Sheba, stand by and keep them company until the shuttle gets
there."
     "With pleasure," Sheba grinned, "With pleasure."
     As the viper assumed a holding position fifty feet away from them,
Apollo looked Starbuck in the eye, "Thanks again, Starbuck."
     "Yeah well," Starbuck sheepishly chuckled and cast an idle look at
the openness of space that surrounded them, "I guess I just can't stand
the thought of you going anywhere without me."

                               Chapter Five 

     A sense of calm after the storm filled the bridge now that the
danger of the fire was over.  But with the focus now shifting to that
of getting the great battlestar back to full working order, the
intensity level of the crewmen had failed to slacken in the least.
     "Colonel," there was a relaxed edge to Omega's voice for the first
time since before the attack, "Maintenance says they've been able to
cannibalize some spare parts that should get deep-scan operational
again in about ten centons."
     "Good," Tigh nodded, "The sooner we get those patrols back here,
the better."
     "We should also have the rest of internal communications back in
just a little bit."
     He looked down at the bridge officer, "Then we should be able to
talk to Boomer on the telecom and start coordinating the rescue
activities.  Let me know when that's fixed, and tell Maintenance to get
a man up here to tell me what they're going to be doing on that."
     "Shadrach's already on his way," Omega said, "Shuttle carrying
Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck now returning."
     "Have them report to the Life Station as soon as they're aboard."


     Cassiopeia and Salik both stood over Adama's life pod in the main
room of the Life Station with an air of anxiousness inside them.  The
tubes had been removed from the commander's body, and his expression
now seemed to be that of a man who was merely in the gentle throes of a
peaceful sleep.
     They heard the door open and saw Apollo and Starbuck enter, both
still wearing their EVA suits.
     "How is he?" Apollo asked as he came up to them.
     Salik smiled, "He should be coming round any micron now, as soon
as the rest of the anesthetic wears off."
     Cassiopeia let out a sigh of relief when she saw Starbuck and the
two of them immediately hugged each other.  It was the first time
they'd had a chance to see each other since before the battle.
     They released each other and went back to Adama's life pod.  The
commander's eyes had started to slightly twitch.
     And then, after another micron, they came open.  For the first
time in a long while, Adama was able to tilt his head upward.
     "Apollo?" the voice was still a whisper, but the raspy tone was
gone now.
     "I'm here, Father," his son smiled and reached inside to squeeze
his hand, "The plan worked.  The ship is safe from danger."
     "Boxey and Athena?"
     "They're alive and safe for now," Apollo said, "But it'll take a
little more time to get them out of the compartment."
     "Good," Adama rested his head against the pillow, "I want to see
them both, so much."
     "You will," Apollo tightened his grip on his father's hand, "It
won't be long now.  In the meantime, you rest some more."
     "Okay," Adama replied and reciprocated the squeeze.  For the first
time, Apollo could sense some of his father's strength coming back.  "I
told you, I'd make it through alive, didn't I? At least," he took a
breath, "I think I did."
     And then, his eyes closed and the Galactica commander was fast
asleep.
     "If the current progress stays this way, he'll be released in two
to three days.  A sectan at the most," Salik said.
     "Will he be up to duty, do you think?" Apollo asked.
     "I think so," the middle-aged doctor nodded, "But I would hope for
his sake, that there be no more attacks like this one."
     "I'm sure that goes for all of us, Doc," Starbuck said.
     "I suppose so," Salik smiled.
     "If I'm needed for anything, I'll be on the bridge," Apollo turned
toward the door, "Starbuck?"
     His friend shook his head and cast a glance at Cassiopeia, "Not
just yet, buddy.  Go ahead without me."
     Apollo nodded and departed.
     "Doctor?" Cassiopeia inquired of Salik, "Will you be needing for
the next five centons?"
     The doctor nodded in understanding, "Take a short break,
Cassiopeia."
     The two of them moved off to an empty end of the room, where they
hugged each other again.
     "Thank God, you're safe," the emotions Cassiopeia had held back
all this time were now slowly coming out, "If I'd had to face losing
you after losing Cain..." she trailed off.
     "Cassie," he smiled as he gently stroked her hair, "You know you
can't get rid of me that easily."
     "It's been a horrible day," the med-tech trembled for the first
time, "Just horrible."
     "At least we're all still alive," Starbuck kept smiling, "That's
all that counts."
     "But it is still going to be difficult getting Athena and Boxey
out, won't it?"
     Starbuck's smile faded and he let go of her.
     "It's...not an easy procedure, from what little I know about it,"
he absently looked off in the other direction.
     She instantly noticed the change in his voice.
     "Starbuck," she asked gently, "You do still care a lot about
Athena, don't you?"
     He turned around and looked her in the eye with the most serious
expression she'd ever seen on his face.
     "Of course I do," Starbuck said quietly, "No less than you do,
about Cain."
     Cassiopeia nodded in understanding, "I know what you mean."
     "But that still doesn't mean I don't know where my future concerns
lie," he gently put his hands on her shoulders, "Because I've been sure
about that for a long time, Cassie."
     A tiny smile etched the corners of Cassiopeia's lips.
     "So have I, Starbuck," she said, "And when Cain returns, as I know
he will someday, I'm going to have to tell him that."
     He pulled her close to him and they shared a brief, gentle kiss on
the lips.
     Just then, the corridor door opened, and they could see the
exhausted and thoroughly scarred Sanchez and Ezra, pulling the
still-unconscious Homer into the Life Station.
     "I have to get back to work, Starbuck," she said, "We'll talk
later."
     "Sure," he nodded, feeling grateful that they'd at last had a
clearing of the air on some difficult subjects.


     When Apollo reached the bridge, he saw that Shadrach, the
commander of the Galactica's Maintenance and Repair team had already
arrived, along with an emotionally spent Jorda.  The two of them had
gathered with Tigh by the computer that displayed the battlestar's
blueprints.
     The executive officer looked up and motioned Apollo over.  Right
away, Apollo felt slightly uneasy when he saw the less than
enthusiastic expression on Tigh's face.
     "Glad you're here, Apollo," Tigh said, "We're trying to get a plan
hammered out right now."
     "Is anything wrong?" Apollo asked with concern.
     "Not at the moment, Captain," Shadrach said, "Right now, we're in
a bit of a dilemma as to how to approach this thing."
     "How?"
     "Take a look," the executive officer pointed at the screen,
"They're located here, in Storage Compartment #3, surrounded by the
Rejuvenation Center on one side, and a corridor that leads twenty-five
feet to an auxiliary turbo lift on the other.  Ideally, the quickest
way out would be through there."
     "But?" Apollo waited for the other shoe to drop.
     "The problem, is that in that particular zone, the hull breach is
larger and wider than any of the others," Shadrach said, "Attacking it
there, would take more than a centar, I'd say close to two before we
could have it done safely, and then get the area repressurized."
     "Which cuts too fine a safety margin with the oxygen they have
left," Tigh noted.
     "The other area, requires sealing off a more narrow, but
ultimately longer breach," the Maintenance Chief pointed, "Because the
other way out would mean going back through the Rejuvenation Center and
down a corridor of nearly a hundred feet to the main turbo-lift."
     "And extra time for repressurization of both the corridor, and the
Rejuvenation Center," Tigh said, "Either way, we're up against time
more than we would have preferred."
     "Can you get more lifemasks back to them?" Apollo asked as he
started to feel the tension return to his body.
     "Not a chance," Tigh was emphatic, "The vents have to stay shut. 
The forty masks I sent to them, are all that we can do there.  I'm
sorry, Apollo.  I'm afraid this has turned into another race against
time again."
     Apollo closed his eyes and slowly shook his head, as he tried to
fight back the sick feeling in his stomach.
     He then collected himself and said as calmly as he could, "What
about diverting more men to this?  The more hands you have working on
it, the quicker they can get the job done."
     "Captain, I only have eight men who are qualified to operate a
wetsteel laser,"  Shadrach said patiently, "In the interests of saving
these people, I'm having all of them assigned to this operation, and
they will all be sent to the one area where the breach will be worked
on.  That, plus one man to handle the repressurization unit, and
another to repair the door, is all I can spare.  My other teams are at
this micron, trying to get the bridge shield replaced and the port
landing bay cleaned up.  I can't take them off those jobs."
     "Then let me help on this," Apollo said instinctively, "I've still
got the EVA suit on, so I can hook up with them right away."
     Tigh suddenly rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling in
exasperation.
     "Captain," Shadrach was slowly losing his patience, "One thing I
am not going to do, is send unqualified men into areas where they can't
do any good.  You've never picked up a wetsteel laser in your life, so
you wouldn't know the first thing about what needs to be done on a job
like this.  And neither does any other pilot for that matter."
     "Just let me go along," there was almost a pleading tone in his
voice, "You have to let me help on this."
     Jorda, who had been silent the entire time, suddenly placed his
hand on Apollo's shoulder and turned him around so that he was looking
the Chief Fireman right in the eye.
     "Captain," he said slowly and deliberately, "Listen to this, and
listen good.  My job for today is finished, and so... is... yours."
     For a long moment, there was silence, as Apollo looked at Jorda's
hauntingly grim and determined expression.
     The strong tone of the Chief Fireman's words, coupled with the
look on his face, and the fact that he and Apollo had shared a terrible
experience together in witnessing the deaths of Stone and Jansen,
finally left an impact on Apollo that no one else could have been able
to make.
     "Okay," Apollo said quietly and held up his hands in resignation,
"Okay, you're right."
     Tigh promptly let out a sigh of relief.
     "If it's okay with you Colonel, I would like to stay here on the
bridge and monitor the situation."
     "That's the least I can do, Apollo," the executive officer said,
"Internal communications should be restored in a centon, so we should
be able to talk to them."
     "Well since we are dealing with a race against time, Shadrach,"
Apollo turned back to the Maintenance Chief, "May I at least suggest
that you make your decision on which way to approach them, now?"
     Shadrach nodded and studied the blueprint one more time.
     Finally, the Maintenance Chief took a breath, "I'm going to take a
chance on the short way out.  I'll head down to hatch thirteen and join
the group I've already got standing by."
     "Stay in touch with us," Tigh said.
     "We will," Shadrach said, "Oh, and Captain Apollo?"
     "Yes?"
     "We'll get them all out, safe," there was reassurance in his
voice, "You have my word."
     "The Lords be with you," Apollo shook his hand before the
Maintenance Chief turned and departed. 
     Jorda put his hand on Apollo's shoulder and slowly guided him to
the other side of the bridge.
     "Thank you, Jorda," Apollo sighed, "I guess I was on the verge of
doing something foolish.  I probably wouldn't have listened to anyone
else."
     "Yeah, well, we've both been through a lot today," there was
little emotion in the Chief Fireman's voice, "Probably enough to last a
lifetime."
     Apollo turned to him, "How many men did you lose?"
     "Twelve, all told," Jorda was looking off into the distance, "Four
in the Boraton Mist Control Center, two teams of three each after the
mega-pressure pump fracked out on us, and... of course you already knew
about Firemen Stone and Jansen." 
     "I'm never going to forget that for the rest of my life," Apollo
shuddered, "All the yahrens I've been a warrior, I've never seen anyone
die like that."
     "Combat is a lot more sanitized, isn't it Captain?" Jorda settled
on to the railing, "Just the blink of an eye, and a viper is blown out
of the stars.  Or if you're shot by a laser pistol, it doesn't really
do too much visible external damage to the body."
     "I know," Apollo said, and then added pointedly, "Not that that
makes it any less painful, Jorda.  That's how my wife was killed."
     "I know all about that, Apollo," for the first time, the Chief
Fireman had addressed him by name, "I've been down that road too."
     Apollo frowned slightly, "You have?"
     Jorda nodded, "I had two sons.  Both of them were killed during
the Holocaust."
     "I'm sorry," a wave of sympathy suddenly filled him, "Were they
pilots?"
     Jorda smiled crookedly and shook his head, "No, Apollo.  They
grew-up and became firemen, just like their father was.  And it just so
happened that Fate destined them to be assigned to the fire team aboard
the Atlantia."
     Apollo settled down in the chair just three feet from where he was
perched on the railing.
     "Do you know what always made me bitter the most?" Jorda went on,
"It was the whole suddenness of the thing.  The way the Atlantia just
went up like that," he snapped his fingers, "I mean, I could always
picture the two of them springing into action when the attack began,
determined to put a lifetime of learning at my feet, and four yahrens
at the Academy to do the job they'd been waiting their whole lives to
do.  And before they ever could have had a chance to get started on
their work, the Atlantia was gone."
     The Chief Fireman stopped to take a breath, "I'd always accepted
the possibility that they could die in their line of work, just like I
always had to accept it for myself.  But going that quickly, without
even a chance to show that you'd at least died doing the best you
could," he shook his head, "That was too much for me to handle for a
long time.  I still don't think I've ever really come to terms with
it."
     Apollo continued to listen with both fascination and a deep sense
of empathy.  He realized that he and Jorda had a lot more in common
than the experience of working together today.  Just as the suddenness
of the Chief Fireman's sons death had been difficult to accept, so too
had it been for Apollo in trying to cope with the loss of first Zac,
then his mother, and then Serina.
     Especially Serina.
     "Apollo," Tigh suddenly called over to him, "Internal
communications are now back.  We're going to try and contact them now."
     Apollo rose from his chair, and patted Jorda on the shoulder
     "I appreciate what you've had to say," he said, "You might as well
go back to your quarters and get some well-deserved rest."
     The Chief Fireman rose and smiled thinly.
     "Not a chance," he shook his head, "I have a vested interest in
knowing the final outcome of all this."
     Apollo returned the smile and they went back over to Tigh's
station.


     Before the explosions, the mood inside the storage compartment had
been one of a sense of creeping terror.  Now, as the twenty people all
breathed through the first of their two individual lifemasks, the mood
had slowly turned into one of boredom for the non-injured, and a
frustrating sense of impatience for the injured.
     "I should have at least remembered to bring a pack of cards in
here," Boomer mused as he continued to lie against the wall next to
Athena and Boxey, "I could have started a quick pyramid game and at
least come out of here with some extra cubits.  Then the day wouldn't
have been such a total loss after all."
     "I've seen you play, Boomer," Athena shook her head, "It would
have been more of a loss for you."
     "You've never seen me play against someone other than Starbuck,"
he replied, "And the difference is that this game would be honest."
     Before Athena could come up with a quip in response to that, there
was suddenly a loud piercing beep that caused everyone in the room to
jump slightly.
     Boomer got to his feet and saw that the telecom unit on the wall
was now flashing a red light.
     "Well, it looks as though the telecom's fixed," he picked it up,
"Hello?"
     "Boomer?" Tigh's voice filled the earpiece.
     "Hello, Colonel Tigh," Boomer said with relief, "Do I owe you an
apology for demanding that furlon this morning."
     "Accepted," Tigh chuckled, "Are you all okay?"
     "We're hanging in," he said, "But I think the sooner the eight
injured people get to the Life Station, the better."
     "The rescue team's leaving to get to you, right now.  They'll be
coming through the corridor on the other side of you.  As soon as it's
repressurized, you'll go that way to the auxiliary turbo-lift and take
it down to Delta Deck.  We'll keep this line open and report on their
progress to you."
     "Okay, Colonel, I know we'll feel a lot better knowing what's
going on," Boomer said as he motioned the now-anxious and enthusiastic
crowd to be silent, "What exactly happened to us, anyway?"
     "It seems like such a long time ago, Boomer," the executive
officer sighed, "Two Cylon fighters packed with solonite rammed us.  We
took a lot of damage up here on the bridge too."
     "Is everyone else okay?"
     "Everyone's fine.  In the meantime, I'll let you talk to Apollo."
     There was a muffle on the other end, as Tigh handed over his
headset.
     "Boomer?"
     "Apollo," Boomer smiled and motioned to an exhilarated Boxey and
Athena, "Good to hear your voice again."
     "Not half as much as it's good to hear yours."
     "Well I might as well let you talk to a couple people you're more
anxious to hear," he handed the telecom to Athena.
     "Apollo?" her voice was trembling.
     "Athena," her brother sighed in relief, "Thank God."
     "Is everything stable up there?"
     "It's getting there," he said, "About the only bad thing that
could happen now would be that basestar suddenly showing up, but it
doesn't look as if that's going to happen."
     "Can I talk to Father?" Athena pressed the telecom tighter against
her ear.
     "I'm afraid not," Apollo said as quickly as he could, "He took
some bad injuries."
     "How bad?" she cut in with alarm.
     "They actually had to operate on him, but it was a success," he
said with as much hasty reassurance as he could, "I just talked to him
in the Life Station.  He's going to pull through."
     His sister paused for a brief instant.
     "You are being candid with me, aren't you?"
     "Athena," Apollo said pointedly, "There isn't a single person on
this ship who hasn't been candid about anything since this whole thing
started."
     "I'm sure of that," she nodded and relaxed, "I'll put Boxey on."
     She then handed the telecom to Boxey, who was already reaching his
hands up in anticipation from the instant Boomer had mentioned his
father's name.
     "Dad?" Boxey asked with his usual level of enthusiasm.
     "Boxey," Apollo sighed in delight at the sound of his son's voice,
"You don't know how much I've worried about you."
     "You didn't have to," he almost seemed to chide him, "Muffy and me
just did what Boomer told us to do."
     "That's being a good little warrior," there was obvious pride in
Apollo's tone, "I heard all about what Muffy did."
     "Boomer says he'll get a medal."
     "He sure will," Apollo smiled, "And you're going to get one, too."
     "Will you be coming to get us, Dad?"
     "No, I'm afraid I can't be there when they open the door up,
Boxey," he said gently, "But I'll be waiting on Delta Deck when you all
take the turbo-lift down.  I'm really looking forward to seeing you and
Muffy again."
     "I've missed you, Dad," for the first time, Boxey's voice seemed
to break just a little bit.
     "I've missed you," his father replied tenderly, "But we'll see
each other soon.  Now you put Boomer back on, and I'll talk to you
later.  I love you, son."
     "I love you, Dad," the little boy then handed the telecom back to
Boomer.
     "Thanks for bringing them through this, Boomer," Apollo said with
genuine emotion, "I owe you a lot."
     "Well I'm glad to know I made up for missing the battle," Boomer
remained casual, "How soon until we can expect that help?"
     "At least a centar, Boomer," he said, "I'll stay on the line and
report the progress."
     "Do that.  And in the meantime, start filling me in on everything
else I've missed."
     "You don't know how lucky you are to have missed it," Apollo
sighed as he started from the beginning.


     Shadrach had arrived in the airlock to hatch number thirteen,
where a team of ten other Maintenance workers were already waiting with
their EVA suits and helmets on.  Eight of them held large, unwieldy
wetsteel laser guns that were specially designed for sealing breaches
in the battlestar's hull.  Another was standing by with the portable
repressurization unit, while the tenth had several low level charges
attached to his suit in case the door needed to be blown.
     Unlike Apollo and Starbuck, the heavy equipment they were carrying
meant they would be forced to use their tether lines.
     "Which one is it going to be, sir?" crewman Cussler, the most
experienced wetsteel laser operator asked.
     "The bigger one above the auxiliary turbo," the Maintenance Chief
locked his helmet into place.
     Cussler immediately groaned, "That's going to take every one of
these guns."
     "We have no choice," Shadrach activated the switch that started
the depressurization procedure inside the airlock, and then turned to
the two crewman with the other items of equipment, "Malek, Cygnus,
listen carefully.  Since your job's going to be done on the inside, you
two will go first and get yourself in.  Stand-by outside the door to
the storage compartment until we signal you that the hull's been sealed
and is ready for repressurizing."
     "What about our tether lines, sir?" Malek, the crewman with the
repressurization unit asked.
     "Cut them loose the micron you're inside," Shadrach answered. 
"You'll be leaving through the turbo-lift with all of them once the
area's repressured."
     A loud pop indicated that the depressurization was finished. 
Shadrach then hit the switch that opened the external hatch.  As the
starry blackness came into view over their heads, each of the crewmen
started to slowly rise up and out of the great battlestar.
     The bulky repressurization unit now felt as light as a feather in
Malek's hands as he went into the lead position and moved down toward
the large circular opening in the hull.
     His partner Cygnus shook his head in amazement as all of the hull
breeches along the side of the ship filled their line of vision.
     "Take a look at that," he said, "Did you ever see anything uglier
in your whole life?"
     "Remind me to compliment Apollo and Starbuck on the nice mess they
made out here," Malek nodded as they drew closer.
     Since Malek was unable to hold on to the handrails because of the
repressurization unit, Cygnus had to pull at his foot to drag him down
toward the opening.  After several centons of slow effort, they finally
disappeared from the view of Shadrach and the other members of the team
who would be staying outside the hull.
     "Let me know when your tether lines are cut, and you're securely
in," the Maintenance Chief radioed.
     "Affirmative," Cygnus replied as he looked around and saw the
darkened and scorched corridor come into view.  There was a slightly
ominous quality to the burnt-out surroundings, where  only some
blinking auxiliary lights along the corridor, and the stars shining
through the opening above, reduced the level of blackness.
     Cygnus pulled at his tether line to lower himself to the floor. 
As soon as his feet touched the bottom, he immediately  grabbed hold of
Malek's leg, pulling him down to the floor as well.  Once they'd moved
further down the corridor and away from the line of sight of the major
breach, they both detached their tether lines from their suits.  The
broken straps promptly soared back up and outside the ship.
     "We're secure inside and detached, sir," Malek radioed as he kept
his hands on the unit, so as to keep it close to the floor.
     "Okay," Shadrach said, "Give a tap on the compartment door to let
them know you're there.  We'll get started out here."


     "Boy, that's a sight I wish I could have seen," Boomer chuckled
into the telecom as Apollo continued recounting the events of all that
had happened, "You and Starbuck, hand-in-hand, floating off into the
starry void."
     Just then, he was distracted by the sound of a thump from outside
the door to the corridor.
     "Hold on Apollo," Boomer said, "I think they've shown up."
     "You won't be able to talk to them, Boomer," Apollo said, "Just
give them one tap back.  They'll be standing by out there."
     Boomer handed the telecom to Athena and made his way to the door
where he gave the cold surface a firm rap in response.  From the other
side, there was another brief series of taps which Boomer recognized as
the standard Colonial code signal of acknowledgment.
     "Okay," Boomer said as he took the telecom back, "They're ready,
they know we're ready, now how about those guys out there getting
ready, so we can get the frack out of here?"
     "The wetsteel lasers should be starting now."

     
     "Activate lasers now!" Shadrach signaled.
     Cussler and the seven other workers hit the switches of their
guns.  Instantly, jets of liquid steel emerged that would instantly
bond and harden into a substitute skin that would seal the hull
breaches.
     But because the jets were only an inch wide, sealing a hole more
than ten feet in diameter could only be a time-consuming process that
would take the effort of all of the available lasers.
     Another tense period of waiting had begun. 


     Starbuck had changed back into his regular uniform, and had gone
back to the bridge to check on the situation.  Along the way, he had
run into Sheba who had also decided to go to the bridge.
     When they arrived they saw Apollo seated at the console, while
Tigh and Jorda stood off to one side behind him.
     "How's it coming?" Starbuck asked, as they came over.
     "They're starting on the hull breach above the corridor," Apollo
said, "The other men in the team are inside but they can't do anything
until that hole is sealed completely."
     "How long will that take?" Sheba asked.
     Apollo looked over at the executive officer, who shrugged.
     "At the rate they're going, at least a centar," Tigh said, "The
jets are already at full power, so they can't go any faster."
     "You should compose a memorandum for Wilker," Starbuck settled 
next to his friend, "Start building a better, faster wetsteel laser."
     "Just be glad these kinds exist," Apollo said, "Twenty yahrens
ago, it still took a sectan to do this kind of job, welding scrap metal
plates together for a temporary fix until you made it to the nearest
space dock in the colonies."
     "I always thought you were the guy who hated technological
innovation," Starbuck gave him a nudge.
     "I just placed a moratorium on that for today," he removed his
headset and handed it to his friend, "Here, talk to Boomer."
     As Starbuck slipped it on and began talking to his friend, Apollo
warily got up to move about and stretch his legs.  As he made his way
over to the other side of the bridge, Sheba immediately followed him.
     "I'm sorry you have to keep going through this wait," she said as
she placed a hand on his shoulder.
     "Yeah," Apollo sighed, "As glad as I am that my father is out of
danger, I'm not going to relax until that turbo-lift opens and Boxey
and Athena step out of it."
     "They'll make it," she said reassuringly.
     "I hope so," he turned around and looked at her, "By the way, I
didn't get a chance to say thanks for spotting Starbuck and me."
     "I wasn't about to let either one of you out of my sight," she
said, "Apollo, I've only been here two days now, but this whole
experience has already made me feel as though I truly belong to this
ship now.  And I want you to know that I'm glad you've thought enough
of me to let me take part in some important assignments."
     "Well, I thought I had to," Apollo said, "You're a special kind of
warrior, Sheba.  Your skills are needed for the important things."
     "I'll do what I can to justify your faith in me," Sheba smiled
warmly at him, "Apollo, I wouldn't be telling the truth if I said I've
completely put all the hurt over my father's disappearance behind me. 
But I do want you to know that for the first time, I can say truthfully
what I told you and Adama the other day, that I do consider myself a
part of your family for now."
     "We're glad to have you, Sheba," Apollo smiled back, "You're quite
a remarkable warrior."
     The way he said the last word, nearly caused Sheba to raise an
eyebrow.  It almost seemed as if he'd started to say 'woman' instead of
'warrior.'
     If it meant anything at all though, she had no intention of trying
to probe his psyche.  Not yet.
     Especially when she wasn't entirely certain of her own feelings
about Apollo.
     "Thank you," she finally answered, "You are too, Apollo."
     They made their way back to the console to continue the vigil. 


     The sense of boredom and restlessness that had affected both those
in the storage compartment and on the bridge had now spread to the two
crewmen waiting outside the storage compartment.  The weightless
sensation was somewhat less pronounced inside the Galactica than it had
been outside, but even so, Malek had to keep his hands firmly clamped
on the repressurization unit to keep it from drifting away.
     "Lords of Kobol, I am bored," Malek finally said aloud.
     "You're not the only one," Cygnus lifted his arm to check the
illuminated chronometer strapped to his wrist, "Thirty centons, we've
been in here."
     Cygnus then looked above to the hole that was being slowly sealed
shut.  At this point it was now one-half the size it had been when they
had entered through it.
     He caught sight of Cussler leaning over the edge and waving down
to him.  He absently waved back and then made an impatient motion to
keep moving.
     "Let's try to kill some time," Malek said, "I heard a pretty funny
story the other day in the turbo wash."
     "Go ahead," Cygnus said dryly, "But just remember that Shadrach is
still listening in on everything we say.  Isn't that right, sir?" he
looked up and added.
     "Correct Cygnus," the Maintenance Chief's voice piped through
their helmets, "How does that story go, Malek?"
     The younger crewman blushed in embarrassment, "Ah, now that I
think of it sir, it isn't as funny as I realized."
     Shadrach let out a small chuckle, "Hang tight men.  We're halfway
there."
     The two crewmen then went back to their impatient, bored silence. 
A silence that for the next ten centons was punctuated only by their
breathing.
     But then another sound, a strange one entirely, suddenly became
evident to the two of them.
     "Hear that?" Malek frowned.
     "Sounds like it's coming from inside here," Cygnus turned around,
"Towards that turbo lift."
     They cautiously made their way forward, when all of a sudden, the
grinding noise became a roar and the walls and ceiling in front of the
turbo lift doors suddenly collapsed in front of them.
     "Malek?  Cygnus?" Shadrach shouted, "What's going on in there?"
     The two warriors looked at the scene in stunned shock.
     "Malek?  Cygnus?" the Maintenance Chief shouted again, "Answer!"
     The more experienced Cygnus decided to answer first.
     "Sir," there was a heavy air of dejection in his voice, "The
bulkhead ceiling and wall in front of the turbo-lift just caved in.  I
think it must have been a delayed reaction to the force of the
explosion."
     The silence on the other end indicated Shadrach's stunned
reaction.
     "And I'm afraid sir, that there is no way that anyone could gain
access to that turbo-lift," Cygnus went on, "This avenue of exit just
became a dead-end." 
     
  
     Once the information was relayed to the bridge, the level of shock
was even greater.
     "Couldn't you use the charges you have to clear away the debris?"
Tigh demanded.
     "Negative," Shadrach replied over an intercom link that made his
words audible to everyone on the bridge, "It'd take one medium-level
charge which he doesn't have or both of the low-level ones.  And if you
do that, there's nothing left to blow away the storage compartment
door."
     "Frack!" Apollo slammed his fist against the console table as
Sheba and Starbuck both placed a hand on each of his shoulders in
support.  His inner feelings could no longer be contained this time,
"Shadrach, they've just switched to their second masks, we've only got
a centar left!"
     "I'm aware of that, Captain," the Maintenance Chief retorted, "But
right now, there's not much we can do in the next centar."
     "That's not acceptable, Shadrach," Tigh's displeasure was all too
clear, "You've got to come up with something now.  Now what about
switching to the other possible avenue of escape we considered?"
     "Colonel, we barely have enough time to seal that area up, but
you're forgetting something.  We wouldn't have a team inside to
repressurize that area."
     "What are you talking about?" Apollo jumped back in and demanded,
"Just get Cygnus and Malek over to the other zone!"
     "We can't get them to there," Shadrach retorted sharply, "The hole
we were already sealing is now too small for them to get out of.  That
means we don't have anyone with a repressurization unit, or an
explosive charge for the door to get into that secondary area in the
Rejuvenation Center!"
     "What about sending two more men out to join you?" Apollo refused
to let any possible stone go unturned.
     "No sir, we wouldn't be able to start sealing until they were both
inside, and by the time they'd get here, we'd never have the breach
sealed in time."
     Grave expressions came over all of the people on the bridge.
     Tigh finally drew himself up to his firmest posture of the day,
"Then there's only one solution, Shadrach" he said, "Start sealing the
secondary zone.  Malek and Cygnus will have to find a way to the
Rejuvenation Center from the inside."
     "They're on the other side of it, Colonel!" Shadrach protested,
"There's no way they could get there without exposing the people
trapped to vacuum caused by two breaches."
     "Leave that problem to us, Shadrach," Tigh said, "In the meantime,
take care of the one you can handle."
     "Yes sir," he sighed in exasperation, "Starting immediately."
     Tigh then switched on the computer displaying the Galactica
blueprints.  Apollo, Starbuck, Sheba and Jorda all came over and looked
at it intently.  Too intently for them to say anything aloud.  All of
them were trying to form solutions for getting the two crewman out of
what seemed like an incomprehensible maze.
     The Chief Fireman was the first to notice something.
     "Colonel, there is a way," Jorda said, "The corridor the two
crewmen are on leads back the other way to another compartment door two
hundred feet away.  That compartment is a throughway to the main
corridor of Alpha Deck where the Rejuvenation Center is."
     "I see it, Jorda," Tigh said, "But they'd have to blow two doors
to get there.  Not only would they be co-mingling the two hull breach
areas, they'd use up both their charges and have nothing for the
storage compartment door."
     "But if they were able to safely open just one of those doors sir,
and close it behind them, then both dangers would be eliminated."
     "Jorda," Tigh said, "Most of the doors in that area were jammed
when the Cylon fighter rammed us."
     "Most of them, but not all," once again, a note of cautious
exhilaration came back to Apollo's voice, "Sergeant Castor, the guard
who tried to rescue them earlier.  He'd been trapped in the storage
compartment down the main corridor from the Rejuvenation Center.  If
his door could open, so could one of these."
     "Then you're asking us to stake all their lives on a hope and a
desperate gamble," Tigh said pointedly, "That might work often in
pyramid, but it's not wise to use that when people's lives are at
stake."
     "What other option do we have, Colonel?" Apollo retorted.
     Before Tigh could answer, Jorda jumped back in, "We have none,
sir.  That is the only access route they can take to be in a position
to save them."
     The executive officer then cast a glance at Omega.
     "Omega," he called over to the bridge officer, "Do we have
computer control for the individual compartment doors back?"
     "No sir," Omega shook his head, "That's going to take more than a
day to get back on-line.  We haven't been giving that priority on the
repair list."
     Tigh slowly exhaled and drew himself up, "It would seem then, that
the situation that confronted us when we had to put out the fire has
reached us again.  Very well, we'll do it.  Apollo, notify Boomer and
bring him up-to-date.  I'll relay all of this to Shadrach, since he's
the only one in touch with Cygnus and Malek."
     And with the stunned shock now past, the air of nervous tension
had returned to the bridge again.


     Boomer was more than ten centons into the use of his second oxygen
mask, and was beginning to feel his impatience starting to be replaced
just slightly with the sense of concern and danger that had filled him
and everyone else in the room before the fire had been put out.
     When is this going to end? he found himself raging in silence.
     The concern had also reentered Athena's voice, "Boomer, why have
they stopped talking to us?" 
     "I wish I knew," he said as he looked at the telecom in his hand
that had been silent for the last several centons, "But whatever it is,
it can't be good."
     "Boomer?" Apollo's voice then came through.
     "Well it's about time," he said as he put it back to his ear,
"What's happening out there?"
     "Boomer," Apollo said gently, "Hook this up so everyone in the
room can hear me.  I think I can explain it a lot better than you're
going to be able to."
     "Okay," he nodded and went over to the wall unit and made the
adjustment.
     Several centons later, the edge of terror had returned to the
entire room again.


     Since the cave-in, Cygnus and Malek had remained in their
position, waiting with mounting frustration for what their next set of
instructions was going to be.
     "Isn't this fracking lovely," the younger, more hot-tempered Malek
was trying mightily to keep himself under control, "Standing in a
corridor filled with vacuum, totally cut-off and nothing to do, while
twenty people just ten feet away from us suffocate."
     "Calm down," Cygnus said gently, "Save your rage only for if this
thing fails completely and it's all over."
     "Isn't it all over, already?" Malek bitterly retorted.
     "Not yet," Shadrach's voice suddenly came through, "They've just
come up with a back-up plan to get the two of you into the secondary
zone which we're working on sealing, right now."
     "We're listening," Cygnus said with anxious anticipation.
     "Make your way back down the corridor, and look for the
compartment door that leads to the throughway between that corridor and
the main corridor.  And take the repressurization unit with you."
     "Affirmative," Cygnus switched on his beacon light so that it
shined down the length of the dark and blackened corridor.
     Through the weightless environment of the vacuum, the two of them
literally hopped their way forward as far as their individual steps
could take them.
     A centon later, Cygnus shined his light on a compartment door
located on the side.  Despite the scorch marks, the words THROUGHWAY TO
MAIN CORRIDOR were still legible.
     "Okay sir," Cygnus reported, "We've reached the door."
     "Good," the Maintenance Chief kept the tension he felt submerged,
"Now to try to open it manually from the control panel."
     Cygnus shined his light on the intact panel.  He carefully made
several adjustments and finally pressed the appropriate buttons.
     But nothing happened.
     Cygnus said nothing and made a quick readjustment.
     Still nothing.
     "Sir, the door is jammed," he finally spoke, "We'll have to use
one charge to blow it."
     "All right," Shadrach's voice seemed to sag, "Do it.  But I have
to tell you this, right now.  If the other door leading to the main
corridor is also jammed, then that is it.  The whole triad game is
over.  Blowing both doors means we'd have to seal both breach areas in
order to get them out safely and we simply don't have enough time to do
that."
     "We understand sir," Cygnus nodded and calmly removed one of the
low-level charges attached to his EVA suit.
     He then motioned to Malek to back away with the unit, and then the
two of them bid a hasty retreat in the zero-g environment down the
corridor as they waited for the charge to blow.


     "The first door was jammed," Tigh said quietly, "They already had
to blow it open.  We should know about the second door any micron now."
     A hush came over the other four people gathered there.  Apollo was
biting his lip in nervous frustration.
     "If the other door is jammed, Colonel," Starbuck struggled to find
one last possible ray of hope, "Then couldn't they get through the way
Boomer got everyone in to the Storage Compartment?  Hot-wire the door
somehow?"
     "Theoretically they could," Apollo said glumly, "But it took
Boomer fifteen centons to do it, and he wasn't operating in total
darkness with only a small flashlight, while wearing a space suit in
zero-g.  By the time they could get through that way, there'd be no one
left to save."
     No one said anything for a long minute.  All over the bridge, the
silence had become deafening.
     The executive officer finally broke it, "It's come down to the
last desperate play," he said quietly, "And where it leads to, only God
knows."
     Apollo calmly adjusted the telecom, "Boomer," he said, "Stand-by. 
We'll know in another micron."


     Inside the compartment, the level of fear and tension was at the
highest level it had been all day.  The terror was so great, that no
one dared say a word.
     Boxey had wrapped himself around his aunt's waist as tightly as he
could.  There were no tears or any crying from the little boy, but
Athena could literally feel his body shaking against hers.
     Boomer reached out to Athena and gently squeezed her hand in a
show of support.
     And then, as if on impulse, Athena suddenly leaned forward, lifted
her mask up for a brief instant, and kissed Boomer on the cheek.
     "For luck?" he smiled at her.
     "For luck," she whispered and smiled back.
     

     Slowly, Cygnus made his way through the gaping hole of the door
they had blasted open.  The throughway stretched more than thirty feet
across to the critical compartment door on the other side that led to
the main corridor.
     The door seemed to exude a menacing aura as the two crewmen drew
closer to it.  And indeed, it was clear to both Cygnus and Malek that
the door was menacing.  For it alone, held the key as to whether twenty
people would live or die.
     Cygnus took a breath and let out a silent prayer of anguish to the
God he'd always honored as to why this terrible responsibility of being
the first one to know was falling on him.  Then he realized that he was
being selfish for focusing on that.  His prayer could only be one that
the door would open.
     Again, he shined his light on the intact control panel.  Again, he
made several adjustments.  Again, he finally pressed the buttons that
would reveal the terrible secret so many were waiting to know.
     Again, nothing happened.
     Behind him, Malek's nervous breathing grew more and more heavy. 
The young crewman almost felt on the verge of hyperventilating.
     But Cygnus knew he still had one more gambit to play with on the
control panel.  And without saying anything, he once again made another
adjustment.  And once again, he pressed the appropriate buttons.
     A rumbling sound suddenly emitted, and was then accompanied by the
sight of the compartment door sliding open.
     Cygnus's calm exterior suddenly exploded into intense jubilation,
"It works!" he shouted, "The beautiful thing just opened!"


     "It works!" Shadrach's words that had been relayed to him, echoed
through the bridge.
     A sudden cheer went up, but Apollo promptly held up his hand, and
the sight of that was enough to cause the cheer to stop before it was
finished.
     "It won't mean felgercarb if they can't close it," he quietly
pointed out, "I'm not telling them a thing until we know that."
     Like an on/off switch, the tension that had briefly gone,
immediately came back.
     "Shadrach," Tigh calmly radioed, "Let's wait until the door is
closed before we get excited."
     "You're right sir," the Maintenance Chief sounded embarrassed,
"Sorry."
     "How's your job coming along?"
     "Better than I expected," Shadrach said, "We should have made the
plan of attack from here right at the outset."
     Apollo visibly flinched when he heard that remark, while both 
Starbuck and Sheba shook their heads in disbelief.
     "If that door doesn't close," Starbuck said under his breath with
contempt, "Then that last remark of his is going to be his epitaph."
     
     
     Cygnus went through the doorway out into the main corridor.
     "All right," he motioned at Malek, "Get that thing through here."
     With the repressurization unit securely in his right hand, the
young crewman made his way down through the passageway and came through
the opening into the corridor alongside Cygnus.
     His senior colleague then went back to the control panel on the
other side.
     And then, Cygnus let out a triumphant whoop characteristic of
Sagitaran natives as the compartment door slid shut.


     When the word came through from Shadrach, another loud cheer went
up on the bridge.  And this time, the cheer was allowed to sustain
itself.  Tigh pumped his fist into the air in excitement while Sheba
and Starbuck both gave each other a happy embrace.  
     Apollo didn't bother to join in the merriment.  He simply smiled
and then carefully repeated the glorious words into his headset, "The
compartment door is shut!"
     Behind him, he felt Jorda's hand patting his shoulder.  He turned
around and saw the Chief Fireman smiling in triumph at him.
     "The worst is over," Jorda said, "I'm glad I stuck around to see
them make it safely."
     Apollo got to his feet and looked at him with a great deal of
admiration, respect and empathy.
     "Jorda," he extended his hand, "I want to thank you for
everything.  It was an honor to work with you, and all of your brave
men.  And I'll never forget the help you just gave us."
     "It was an honor to work with you, Captain," Jorda took it, "For
the first time, I think I finally know why the Lord in his wisdom
decided that I was going to live through this."
     And then, as Apollo turned to receive warm embraces from Starbuck
and Sheba, the Chief Fireman slowly turned away and quietly left the
bridge.
     

     Inside the storage compartment, there was also a wild cheer of
exhilaration for the first time.  Boomer and Athena hugged each other
and then Boxey.  Even Muffit joined in the merriment by jumping on to
the three of them.
     Even though the last phase in their confinement had not yet
arrived, there was now a sense that at long last, things were finally,
truly over.


     From there, events seemed to move much more swiftly.  After
another wait of ten centons, the team outside the hull led by Cussler
finished sealing the lengthy and narrow breach running along the hull
above the main corridor.
     Shadrach then gave the signal, and Malek activated the
repressurization unit.  Within another three centons, pressure had been
restored to the main corridor.  There was still no flow of oxygen to
the area, but it was now safe for people with masks to go through the
area without pressure suits.
     Malek and Cygnus made their way through the burned-out ruins of
the Rejuvenation Center over to the storage compartment door.  A firm
pounding from Malek gave the signal to all the people inside that it
was time to prepare for the explosive charge that would blow the door
open and free them.
     Microns later, the door that had served as their bulwark of safety
had been blown open.
     One-at-a-time, they all emerged, still wearing their lifemasks. 
The injured were carried out first, followed by the rest.  Boomer was
the last to emerge.
     As they filed out, he cast a glance at the gutted game equipment
strewn about the ruined room.  At one end, he could see the table Boxey
and Athena had been playing at when he'd first entered the room in what
seemed like an eternity ago, but had in fact only been a little more
than four centars.
     "Well Boxey," he leaned down to the little boy, "I guess it'll be
a while before we finally have that game of compartment bulwarks I'd
promised you."
     They stepped out into the corridor where Malek had activated the
turbo-lift at the other end.  When the doors were opened, the eight
injured people were loaded in for the first trip down to Delta Deck.
     It took another centon for the lift to come back up.  When it
opened again, the rest of the group, including Boomer, Athena, Boxey
and a barking Muffit got on board.  When the doors closed, they
finally, gratefully removed their masks and were able to breathe
normally again.
     The first thing they saw when the door opened three decks down was
the outstretched arms of Apollo happily waiting to greet them.
     He embraced his sister first, and then took his son in his arms,
kissing him with all the parental tenderness he felt capable of
summoning.
     He then set Boxey down and looked at Boomer, who stood in the lift
doorway with a thoroughly stoic expression.
     "Boomer," for the first time there were tears in Apollo's eyes as
he reached out and shook his friend's hand, "You pulled them all
through.  Thank you."
     "Yeah well," Boomer remained stoic as he warmly reciprocated the
handshake, "I had a lot of help from a lot of good people."
     "We all pulled each other through, Apollo," Athena said, "All of
us who saved this ship.  There are a lot of people who deserve some
high honors."
     "I know," Apollo smiled, "Boomer, Jorda, so many others," he then
paused slightly to reflect, "Especially a couple of firemen named Stone
and Jansen."
     "Not to mention you and Starbuck," his sister added.
     "And Muffy!" Boxey suddenly chimed in.
     The three of them laughed as they looked down and saw Boxey
proudly petting his beloved daggit.
     "You're so right, Boxey," Apollo picked his son up again, "Now in
the meantime, what's say we all go up to the Life Station and say hello
to your grandfather, who I know is very anxious to see all of you?"
     And with that, the four of them set off down the corridor for the
turbo-lift that would take them there.

                                     Epilogue     
     
     For well over several centars, Baltar had nervously paced back and
forth in front of his throne chair, awaiting news of what had become
for him, his last desperate effort to salvage something from the
disasters of the last sectan.  Only days ago, he had been so sure of
victory that he had personally gone into combat in the cockpit of a
Cylon fighter to watch he had been certain would be the final
destruction of the Galactica and his hated enemy Adama.
     Now, after the turn-of-events caused by the Pegasus, desperation
rather than self-centered swagger and confidence had been controlling
all of his actions.
     Finally, the doors to the command center opened and Lucifer glided
into the room.
     "Well?" so great was Baltar's impatience, that he didn't bother to
wait for that tiresome 'By your command.'
     "Our special assault patrol reports that there were two direct
hits on the Galactica," the IL Cylon said, "One to the bridge and one
to the landing bay."
     "Has she been destroyed?" the impatience in the human traitor's
voice only grew.
     Lucifer paused for that brief instant that always succeeded in
unnerving Baltar.
     "Not exactly..." the IL Cylon started.
     "Will you come to the point?!" Baltar raged.
     "The rest of our fighters were destroyed before the Galactica's
destruction could be confirmed."
     Baltar sank back into his throne, "We have no more fighters?"
     "Such a result was to be expected when you chose to have all of
them loaded with solonite," Lucifer's tone was matter-of-fact, "If it
turns out that the Galactica has survived, then a new assault will be
impossible for the foreseeable future."
     Just then, a centurion came up to them, "By your command."
     "Speak," Baltar waved his hand in irritation.
     "Our long-range communications monitors have picked up the
inter-fleet messages of the Colonial ships.  They indicate that the
Galactica has survived and is underway again."
     Baltar dug his fingers into the side of his throne chair.
     "Do you have any new ideas, Baltar?" Lucifer allowed only a hint
of sarcasm to enter his voice.
     "Later," he waved his hand, "Leave me for now."
     "Shall I contact the Imperious Leader on Gomorrah to apprize him
of the situation?"
     "I said leave me for now, Lucifer," Baltar raised his voice.
     The IL Cylon felt that he'd attained enough inner satisfaction
from seeing Baltar in this position, "By your command," he bowed and
departed.
     As Baltar tried to plot his next move, he could never have guessed
that for him, there would be no next attack on the Galactica.  At that
moment, he had a rendezvous with destiny in the near-future that would
see his power yanked out from under his feet in a totally unexpected
manner that would land him in the Galactica prison barge.

The End