Date: Wed, 13 Nov 1996 From: Davey Jones Subject: FANFIC: Shuttlecraft 3 ver.2 This is some fanfic for the list. Rick (VISIONS OF THE GALACTICA) Perriguey wrote a story called SHUTTLECRAFT 3 for the 13th Tribe Newsletter a bunch of jahren back. He then took his own story and planned to update it and run it in an issue of VISIONS, but uploaded it to AOL for general opinioning first. I got hold of it and secured, sort of roundaboutly, permission to play with it. What was originally going to be just a rewrite-writeup turned gradually into a complete rewrite. I ran out of time to do any more with it, and Rick had by then printed the real version of the story. I sent it to him, and he seemed amused by it, but neither of us had any use for it. Ace Zatar is a pilot character created by Rick for several enjoyable BG stories. Tera, the foster-daughter of Captain Croft (playing into many, many Croft-related things she's done) was created by Patti Foss (who we need to get on the list; she'd have fun). Mikus was created in a previous story by Lance Dobersek, a writer/artist with VISIONS (he's the one who jumped ship and joined the cylons). It's divvied into two parts. Hopefully someone will enjoy it. Davey djones@dmas.state.va.us 13 NOV 96 0953 SHUTTLECRAFT THREE Rick Perriguey (& Davey Jones) Athena walked onto the bridge of the Galactica and strolled over to where Colonel Tigh was talking on a commline. "What's the matter, Colonel?" she asked him. "Oh? Athena," the Colonel responded as he turned around. "Well, Dr. Salik's finally got that batch of glorp vaccine ready for the orphan ship. I was trying to line up a shuttle pilot to deliver the shipment but most of them are still down with it too. I hate to have to assign fighter pilots to do it since they've all been doing extra duty after the recent sweep of Cylon attacks." Athena's heart raced with excitement. "I'll deliver it," the girl volunteered. "You?" Tigh eyed her carefully. "Well, you are shuttle qualified." "And itching for some flight time," Athena replied. "Let me get my flight gear and I'll make the run." "All right. I'll log you back on duty. The shuttle is already prepped. Get going." Tigh started to turn back to his duties, then paused. "By the way," he asked her as she reached the door to the command center, "how is the Commander feeling?" "Much better now," Athena assured him. "He said it's the worst case of glorp he's ever had. Dr. Salik said father's the worst patient he's ever had!" Tigh and Athena shared a laugh before the girl left the bridge. From the pilot's seat Athena heard the main hatchway cycling shut. She adjusted her headset and spoke quietly. "This is shuttlecraft three to Galactica flight control. Preflight check completed. Ready to launch at your command." It made Athena a little nervous--although she would never have admitted it!--to be flying something the size of a shuttle without a copilot. Unfortunately, pilots of any kind were becoming a rare commodity in the fleet; it was becoming more and more common than positions were being undermanned. Safety was less an issue any more than simple operation... "Shuttlecraft three, this is Galactica control. Stand by for launch clearance. Transferring course coordinates." Athena started from her reverie, turned her attention to her board. "Course received and locked," she responded automatically. "You may launch when ready, shuttle three," the distant flight controller informed her. "Thank you. Shuttlecraft three, launching now." The shuttle slid smoothly down the length of the portside landing bay. As soon as the small craft was clear of its mother ship it turned and adjusted its heading. Athena nodded approval; the ship's navigational computer was handling the short flight without a problem. The estimated time of arrival at the orphan ship was only fifteen centons. Even though the orphan ship was located only half the length of the fleet away from the battlestar, shuttle speeds were normally kept low for safety reasons. Flying without a copilot for backup, Athena did not feel it necessary to push her luck by speeding. The fugitive fleet was currently flying along the outskirts of a planetless star's realm. The distant sun was little more than a bright, dimensionless point in the velvet blackness of space. Yet even here, on the outer edge of its sphere of influence, it could make its presence felt. The star was unstable in the extreme; it was one reason Dr. Wilker's department had not recommended staying in its vicinity for too long, a decision acting commander Tigh had concurred with. Aside from the infrequent and unpredictable flares of stellar matter that it flung outward into the void, the sun was circled by whirling rings of highly polarized magnetic fields, fields whose fingers reached even here, several tens of light centars away. The battlestar and the larger ships of the fleet, those responsible for handling the majority of fleet communications, had merely adjusted their gear and gone about their business. Most of the larger ships, too, were massive enough that their internal gravity systems could neutralize any abnormal fields from the faraway sun until the fleet was once again out of range. Not so something as small as a shuttlecraft. The flight was smooth for the first ten centons. Athena was just about to punch up the navigation frequency of the orphan ship when her communicators began to make strange indications. She tapped at her controls, even trying a frequency shift, but the interference continued to grow. Without nav beacons I may have to abort the landing, she thought grimly. Time to call for help. "Shuttle three to Galactica control, do you read me?" Static answered her. "Damn. Orphan Ship, this is Galactica shuttle three, en route with glorp vaccine shipment. I need a landing beacon. Do you read me, orphan ship?" The meaningless noise in her earphone just grew in volume. "Damn. What a time for the equipment to go on the blink!" She tapped out an authorization, taking the ship off of autonav, and reached for the control yoke. She was perfectly capable of making a manual, line-of-sight landing; it might be rougher than normal, but it would not be bad. A wave of invisible magnetic force from the far-off star swept through the fleet like a broom through talc. Most of the ships ignored it; a few would later lodge complaints about the poor state of communications in the fleet. The wave struck the shuttle like an immaterial cannon shot. Athena was shaken in her seat, her grasping hand sent flying back against her armrest. The shuttle shook and spun, its internal gravity systems overwhelmed. Athena's vision went red under the pressure of several gravities' acceleration. Part of the now receding wave of magnetogravitic force struck and was channeled down a vital computer circuit. The shuttle's engines flared into overload. Athena, just focusing her eyes on her control yoke, forcing her leaden hand to reach for it and regain control of her runaway ship, was crushed in her seat by the full force of a colonial war vehicle's drives. Only her flightsuit's protective harnessing saved her life; she had time to realize that, even if she survived this, she was going to be black and blue for sectons. She made one last herculean effort to reach her control stick, or the communications panel, or the drive controls. Then her world went dark. "Colonel Tigh! Sir, you'd better take a look at this!" Sergeant Cassandra called from the communications center. The battlestar's exec was at her side in michrons. "Sir," Cassandra reported, "I was tracking shuttle three to the orphan ship, when communications went dead. I was going for a secondary sensor lock when a wave of force from the central star hit the fleet." Tigh searched Cassandra's tac display anxiously. "Where's the shuttle now?" "Sir, that's the problem," the sergeant responded. "Lieutenant Athena's communications went dead, and the last telemetry I received from the shuttle was that the engines had gone to overdrive." "Overdrive? Why would--" Tigh stopped, a chill working its way up his spine. "Sergeant. This wave of force. What kind and what magnitude?" "Magnetogravitic. Force nine," the sergeant responded. Tigh looked sick; standard measures on this scale only went to ten. Cassandra tapped at her controls and a hologram flashed over her panel, displaying the distant star. Colored lines that looked much like a whirlpool around a child's dreidltop circled the bright dot. "The star gave off a burst of gravitic force about a day ago. If our probes had been able to tell us through the interference we could have waited until it had passed before launching the shuttle." "Damn. No contact with her at all?" "None, sir. And sir," Cassandra continued, then paused. The colonel nodded; she continued. "Sir, we don't have a course for her any more. On overdrive that shuttle will be almost a light centon away in just a few moments. If the drives were malfunctioning it could go superlight and we'll lose it completely. And the interference outside is still so strong that we're having trouble just picking up the transponders from the ships closest to us." Tigh went cold. If the battlestar's passive sensors could not find any trace of the distressed shuttle, it would have to find its own way back or be lost forever. With the cylons in constant pursuit, and never knowing where or how close those ancient robotic enemies might be lurking, the colonials had long ago been forced to forgo the use of their active sensors. A sensor device that gave off a pulse of energy was a sensor that gave its own location away to anyone or anything that wished to find it. "Right," Tigh snapped, indecision gone. "What's the actual interference and force reading at now?" "The interference is dropping steadily, sir," Cassandra reported after checking her readouts. "The gravitic wave has passed us by. I can check with Dr. Wilker's section and see when they predict the followup wave." "Do it, quickly." Tigh touched his headset microphone. "Captain Apollo. Captain Apollo. Report." Within michrons Apollo's voice, heavy with sleepiness, answered. "Apollo here, sir." "Prepare to scramble a search and rescue mission, Captain," Tigh snapped. "Pick two others for your team and two other complete teams and have them report to Alpha Bay. Lock their names in so their vipers will be prepped when they get there." There was no hesitation in the pilot's response; it was obvious from the colonel's voice that something serious was going on. "Understood, sir. Apollo out." Boomer was still blinking sleepily when Starbuck came jogging up. "How the devil d'you look so awake at this time of night?" Boomer asked irritably. "I've only been in bed; haven't been to sleep yet," his daredevil friend responded cheerfully, making matching hourglass motions with both hands. Boomer just rolled his eyes and turned to his ship. In the adjacent launch cribs two other trios of pilots stood, most looking equally half-awake, all silent. All of the pilots stood at Apollo's approach. His expression was grim; his news drove any thoughts of amusement or exhaustion from his companions' thoughts. "Athena was aboard a shuttle making a cargo run to the orphan ship. Apparently the star let loose with some sort of gravitic shock wave that they think disabled her systems. The last readings they had on her indicated wildcatting engines and no hard course. They think she may be injured, so it's up to us to find her." "Hey, no problem, buddy," Boomer assured the man. "We'll find her, don't worry." Apollo's expression did not ease. "We're under a deadline," he continued bleakly. "The science department reports that another shockwave should go rolling through here in another centar at the outside. The ships in the fleet are able to handle it, but it knocked a shuttle for a loop. Our vipers wouldn't stand a chance unprotected." "Uh, oh," Starbuck said. Realization struck him and Boomer. "We find her in a centar or not at all?" "We find her in a half-centar or we..." Apollo paused, forced himself to continue. "Or we give it up. We have to leave ourselves time to get back under cover." "Apollo, can't we just get ourselves into the docking bay of any ship that's handy until the next shockwave passes and then continue the search?" Boomer asked logically. Apollo's expression became anguished. "No," he said tightly. "There'd be no point. After a centar on overdrive, Athena's shuttle will be so far out of range that it wouldn't matter if we found her; we'd never be able to match her course and bring her back." "Never mind if whatever screwed up her guidance systems activated her superlight drives," Starbuck pointed out, regretting the observation almost as soon as he made it. Apollo glared at him but nodded acknowledgement. "Exactly. And every centon we stand here talking about it reduces our chances of finding her, so let's get to it!" The men jumped into their cockpits and prepped for immediate launch. Even the ground crews felt the urgency of the moment, going about their business with less joking than usual. The cylon empire was a far-flung assemblage of stellar systems, all under the control of the ruling council back on Cylon itself. Even the humans, during their war of a thousand yahren, had never truly realized just how wide-spread the cylon empire truly was. Where the humans had credited the cylons with control of a sphere perhaps a hundred light-yahren in diameter, the truth was that the influence of the cybernauts extended over ten times that distance. Many had often wondered why the fleet continued to encounter cylon scouts and warships, and how a seemingly endless stream of basestars could often be in stellar systems before the humans themselves knew their next destination. A few suspected that the humans had once again underestimated their ancient enemies, but they wisely kept their own counsel; and none knew for certain. This ancient star had long ago blown its own small store of planets into the dark void of eternal night when it went unstable. But this star was like most others; about a light-day out a cloud of cometary material circled, ice and dirt frozen into planetesimals out here, forever out of range of their sun's lifegiving heat and light, the particles ranging in size from bits smaller than dust and snowflakes to planetoids several kiloms in diameter. During the first wave of expansion of the original cylons' empire-building period, many star systems had been visited and surveyed, and small, automatic sensor stations planted. Even if the system was of no practical use to the cylons, it was better to control than to dismiss. And now that the cylons' robotic creations had inherited the empire, maintaining such listening posts was more effort than ever. Indeed, now that the human fleet seemed closer and closer to discovery all the time, such listening posts had assumed a greater priority than ever before during the current Imperious Leader's reign. The cylon on duty notified its supervisor immediately when the powerless metal-ceramic object went careening through the station's detector nets. The supervisor observed and adjudged the incident worthy of investigation. A flight of mantas and an arakh-class salvage craft were dispatched to retrieve the anomaly. When the commander of the station was apprised of the contents of the article, it elected to notify the higher echelons of the empire. It felt no emotion at the thought of relinquishing its find; after all, how can a robot be said to feel anything? Lucifer, the IL-class cylon-manufactured AI, gazed into the hologram before its command throne. For all that its face was a featureless mask of cerametal, it nonetheless, in contradiction to the rules of logic that said a robot is passionless, radiated eagerness and interest. "A human, you say, commander?" it asked. "Affirmative," the commander of the distant station responded. "It lives still. The ship that carried it was without fuel, and according to our data, the conditions within the craft were such that the human would soon have terminated. Do you wish the human preserved, or shall we destroy it?" "Oh, preserve it, preserve it by all means," Lucifer hastened to instruct its compatriot. "By all means, I want it alive when I reach you. My navigators tell me that I am no more than three centars' distance from you." "Do you wish it questioned?" "Oh, there is no need for that," Lucifer said smoothly, ideas already developing in its imagination. "In fact, if it remains unconscious, leave it alone. It will work better that way. That will be all. We will rendezvous with your station in about three centars." "By your command." The cylon's face faded. Lucifer sent through electronic channels the orders to push the basestar up to faster-than-light speeds. A few hundredths of a michron later, finished with giving orders, it turned to the figure that stood behind its platform. As its attention turned to its aide, a light brightened gradually, until a half-human, half-robot form was revealed. "Mikus," Lucifer said with satisfaction, "I do believe this will be the key to lead us to the human fleet." The figure nodded silent acknowledgment. Boomer's attention was focused on his friend's ship rather than the hangar of the old freighter in which the three vipers currently sat, waiting out the next stage of the dying star's eruptive flares. He knew as well as Apollo and Starbuck what it meant when the centar they had been given to search for Athena had come and gone. It hurt him to think of his friend's sister, dying alone in space in a dark, freezing shuttle; but it hurt more to think of what his friend was feeling at this moment. Athena had been one of the last members of Apollo's family to survive the holocaust; his brother had died almost within range of rescue and assistance. Apollo had known then, at least intellectually, that he had done the correct thing in returning with the warning that had indeed saved the Galactica. And he had known, again intellectually, that he had been far too distant from his homeworld Caprica to have saved his mother, killed in the cylon attack there. In neither instance had he been almost within detection range--actually within that range if their ships had not been within reach of a stellar disaster area. Boomer was confident that Starbuck would come through this loss in his usual style; he and the commander's daughter had been drifting apart in recent sectars, anyway. But Apollo... Boomer's comms light flashed, a message he had asked this ship's bridge to relay to him. He nodded to himself and spoke to his wingmates. "The bridge reports that the wave's passed us by. Let's head back to the Galactica." He nudged his own viper into the air, sent it gliding forward. Out in space, Starbuck formed on his wing immediately. Not really to either man's surprise, Apollo's craft went winging off in the direction they had just spent a centar desperately exploring. "Apollo, where're you going?" he called. "You two go back," the captain ordered; there was no further explanation offered. Starbuck started to object and Boomer overrode his signal. "Apollo, listen. These things only have about a two-centar fuel supply at full throttle, and we used over half of it searching before we had to take cover." He paused. "How would you expect to do Athena any good if you ran out of fuel just as you found her?" he pointed out. Silence answered him. Starbuck found his voice. "Listen, Apollo. If we get back to the Galactica and refuel quick enough, maybe we can still get some more searching done." His voice lowered to a confidential murmur, a concern few but his best friends ever saw coloring his words. "Listen, buddy, I don't want to give up either, but without fuel, we can't do anything. C'mon back to the ship. We'll take it from there." Both men kept their vipers on course for their baseship and held their breath as their commander's viper neared the edge of their screens. Both breathed sighs of relief as that blip turned and looped back, taking a course to join them close to their mothership. "All right," Apollo's voice said tiredly. "We'll refuel and keep trying." "That's all we can hope for, pal," Boomer assured him. "Negative," Colonel Tigh said flatly. Apollo's eyes hardened. "Sir," he said tightly, "we may be the only chance my sister has for--" "Captain," Tigh snapped. Then he stepped forward, put a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Apollo. You know what the sensors said. We barely know what hemisphere that shuttle was headed off into, let alone the exact course. It went at the full drive of its engines. In a centar it could have been halfway across this system; it could've jumped to faster than light and it would really be lost. And the central star is entering into a cycle of eruptions; we're going to be hard pressed to defend ourselves if any cylons do show up under these conditions." He had to stop and swallow; what he had to say next pained even him. "Apollo, she's gone." "No!" Apollo shook Tigh's hand from his arm. "I can't accept that, sir, not while there's still--" "A chance?" Tigh shook his head sadly. "None, Apollo. You can't tell me any way that she could have survived under these conditions, no way barring an all-out miracle. It was an accident, nothing more. But there is no chance of finding her now." His voice dropped to a whisper. "She's gone, Apollo." "Sir," Apollo's voice was pleading now, "if we just turned the active sensor systems on...just for a few michrons..." Tigh shook his head. "Negative. That would be like turning on a searchlight and advertising our position to any cylons in range. I can't risk the lives of a hundred and eighty thousand people to save one. No matter how much I want to." It fell to Starbuck and Boomer to guide their numb friend from the bridge. Lucifer played his personal sensors across the human's identification stripe, woven into the fabric of the colonial uniform. It was hard-pressed not to gloat, an action its builders had certainly never anticipated it developing a talent for. This was a find of the highest magnitude. "Mikus, do you know who we have here?" it asked its aid. The cyborg nodded. "Lieutenant Athena. Bridge officer. Reserve pilot." "And the daughter of the redoubtable Commander Adama, as well," the AI finished triumphantly. "That almost certainly means that the fleet is still within a light yahron of this particular star. I cannot imagine this young woman being abandoned so far from her people, let alone when her father guides the destiny of every living thing in that fleet." "Space is vast, Lucifer," Mikus observed tonelessly. "Even something the overall size of the fleet is too diffuse in size to show up readily on anything but the strongest sensors. And this particular star is a navigational sinkhole, thanks to all the radiation it puts out. Besides, the commander of the station reported that, in spite of sweeps, it has detected no sign of any other human ship." "Ah, Mikus, you still think too much as a human and not as an artificial cylon," Lucifer chided its creation. "I believe that the fleet is still somewhere close by. And it will be a simple matter to use this young woman to make them reveal their presence." "Broadcast a hostage message?" Mikus queried curiously. "I don't believe it'll work. Adama would never deliberately give away the fleet, even to save his own daughter." "Deliberately?" Lucifer echoed. "No. In that we are in agreement. But, as I understand it, the emotion of fatherly love is a feeling among the strongest humans experience. In fact, I believe it can induce the strongest of men to foolish actions." "You haven't said what you intend to do with her," Mikus pointed out as the two left the holding cell. Lucifer did not answer at first, busy transmitting electronic orders concerning the disposition of the prisoner. "Patience, my friend," Lucifer finally deigned to respond, gliding down the corridor toward the laboratories. "You will see." Starbuck and Boomer trudged toward the front of the landing bay. The gate was vast and seemingly open, the hysteris field that maintained atmospheric integrity invisible to all but electromagnetic sensors. Boomer enjoyed standing on the walkway and looking forward into space; Starbuck had never seen much reason to rejoice in the vision of yet more space. Both now headed for the still, dark form that leaned heavily on the handrail, breathing silently and heavily. Neither man said a word as they stopped beside Apollo. Starbuck glanced quickly at his chrono, regretted it. Even his stomach twisted as the figures changed and passed the scheduled time at which the Fleet was to make its next jump through this system's northern do'Alder point. Apollo's breathing stilled momentarily in anticipation. Then the stars outside the hangar deck flickered and fuzzed and shifted; in the blink of an eye, the starfield had changed. The Galactica and its Fleet were now several dozen light-jahren distant from the start that had taken Athena's life. Apollo said nothing, but his breathing became more ragged. Boomer put his hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezed, trying to comfort his friend. When he pulled gently, Apollo turned from the gateway, stumbled unseeingly away, his grief almost palpable, and all the more terrible for the mask of emotionlessness that slid over his features. He stood straight, tugged his jacket into shape, and strode quickly back down the length of the bay, never saying a word to his friends. Boomer and Starbuck looked at each other. For once, even the two most cheerful pilots in Alpha Squadron could think of nothing to offer. *** *** *** *** *** The healing lamps were a cobbled-together affair; normally no cylon spent any effort at all to keep a living captive healthy. Living beings, especially the humans who had made this medical device, were best utilized for intelligence gathering. Once they had divulged everything of worth they knew, they were of no further use. But Lucifer, having had several humans aboard his basestar already--first the now-long-gone Baltar, and now his deputy Mikus--had found that it came in handy to have such salvaged gear maintained. Why, one never knew when such a situation as this might arise! At Lucifer's nod, Mikus tapped a command at his keyboard; the healing lights went out and the cold room became dim again. Lucifer bent forward, several invisible tractor beams lifting strands of brunette hair from the temple of his 'patient.' "Excellent, Mikus, excellent," the AI cooed. "There doesn't even appear to be a scar." The hair drifted back to rest as the robot turned and glided back from the table. "Put her under a low-level energon treatment for another centar," he instructed his aide. "After that, put her back in her uniform and gear and return her to her vessel." "The next stage in your plan is to release her?" Mikus asked, fingers automatically instructing the medical apparatus in what it needed to do. As a soft golden glow enveloped Athena, he stood, stretched; even for a cyborg, the needs of the body still made themselves felt. "The problem is still that we have no idea where the Colonial Fleet is located. Even if they were actually in the system where we found her, surely they would not be now. It has been over a half day already." "Yes, Mikus, I am aware of that," Lucifer explained patiently. He turned to leave, and Mikus followed behind him. "Even as I am aware that the Colonials long ago learned not to use active sensors when they enter a new star system. That being the case, even a fleet of the almost two hundred vessels still remaining under Adama's command would be almost impossible to detect at anything but a range of a light-centon or less." "And if we simply put Lieutenant Athena back in her ship in some randomly selected star system, the chances are astronomical that she will ever be found. Her shuttle has a hyperlight transmitter, but its range is limited to perhaps a light jahron, perhaps two at most." "Yes, but think a moment, my friend," Lucifer continued patiently. Lucifer, lack of emotions notwithstanding, loved being pedantic; it gave him a chance to display how much more advance he was than any of those with whom he surrounded himself. "When anyone sends an expedition into an uncharted stellar system, they emerge from one of the superlight foldpoints--" "The do'Alder jumppoints, yes," Mikus said. Lucifer tilted his head. "--and the first thing that any responsible commander does is send at least a token exploratory mission to the other destinations of those do'Alder points. And it is a rare foldpoint indeed that has less than two different destinations possible through it; many have a dozen." "Nonetheless, it seems to me that we would have to know where Adama is before we can properly place Lieutenant Athena," Mikus objected. "No, not really," Lucifer said. "The do'Alder points in the system where we found the Lieutenant's shuttle are more limited in scope than most, thanks in great part to the decrepit condition of the central star itself." The hatchway to the commander center slid silently open at the approach of the vessel's commander and its aide. "There are only two possible destinations if the colonials used that jumppoint, and neither of those jumppoints leads to any richer a territory. There are at most seven further destinations, if the fleet indeed took that point." Lucifer managed to make what sounded like a resigned sigh. "If only we had some way of disabling the colonials' subspace drives, leaving them no recourse but to use superspace jumppoints. We could simply station forces in all of the foldpoints where the humans could emerge and await their arrival." "Unfortunately, they use both methods indiscriminately," Mikus pointed out. "I am aware of that," Lucifer retorted petulantly. "As I was saying, if Adama follows usual procedure, he will send out scouting missions within a few centars, perhaps a day at most, of his arrival. All we must do is see that the Lieutenant's shuttle is placed firmly in one of those systems, loudly broadcasting cries for assistance, and leave the rest to the humans." "You think they will accept that the Lieutenant's shuttle accidentally made a superlight jump itself, ending up in one of those other systems?" Mikus looked first startled, then interested. "A moment. I'm accessing the nav data banks." His eyes seemed to focus on infinity. Then: "I would recommend the system registered as Alephas Phwhaughe. It has no direct jumppoint link with the system where we took the Lieutenant, but it is only one link away on an alternate jump route. It is highly improbable that her shuttle would have made two successive superlight jumps so conveniently, but it is better than the alternative, which offers no feasible explanation for her presence other than Cylon Intervention." "Very good, Mikus," Lucifer praised his cyborg. The hemihuman looked vaguely pleased. "We will make a cylon of you yet. That was the very system I had already selected, and the reason why I had chosen it." "Sir," Mikus acknowledged. "Carry on, then," Lucifer dismissed him. "I will summon you if I need you again." Mikus left quietly. *** *** *** *** *** Breakout went normally. LT Zatar checked his HUD immediately, nodded as two other traces immediately identified themselves as his wingmates. "Ace," a woman's voice crackled in his ear, "all green." "Understood, Tera," he responded to his wingmate. "Ensign Darlette, report." "All green, sir," the rookie responded. "All right," he said to both of them, "let's see what the probes tell us about this particular jump point." He tapped a command on his keypad. From beneath one wing, where its launcher had been rigged, a probe sparkled off into the darkness. "Give it about a centon and we should be ready to start." Silence answered him. The silence lasted almost a half-centon before Tera's voice whispered in his earpiece. "Ace. Private Channel." He used his chin to nudge his communicator to a preset alternate frequency. In theory the cadet would be unable to listen in on his superiors' words. "What's up, Tera?" "You saw Apollo back in the bay." It was not a question. "Yes," he replied warily, "so?" "So what are they doing letting him anywhere near a bird right now of all times?" The fiery- tempered young woman snorted. "Trinity, the man just lost his sister in action. You'd think he'd take the rest time the doc told him to." "Tera, I don't know why he's throwing himself into his duty so much," Ace responded patiently. "Or maybe I do. It'd be a means of forgetting what he's lost. Cassie says he lost his brother and mother in the original attack on the Colonies, and his wife when you people found Kobol. Now his sister's dead, too, because of the cylons. I think I'd want to forget what that felt like, however I had to do it." "Yeah, but would you want'em trusting you with a viper to do it?" Tera pressed. Ace sighed. "No. And they didn't let him come out, either." "Huh?" "'Huh' indeed." Ace paused to update his sensor readings, nodded as the probe signalled just michrons before it disappeared back through the jumppoint to another space. "If you hadn't been in such a huff about the techs disconnecting your crystal player you'd've seen when Major Omega and Colonel Tigh themselves came down and relieved him of duty." "Huh," was Tera's repeated response. "Bet he was ticked as hell, too. I know I would've been." "Yes, well, that may be--" Ace broke off as his control panel flashed a signal at him. "What?" He tapped at his keypad; michrons later he felt a cold chill race down his back. "Tera. General channel, now." He chinned his communicator back to normal, spoke urgently. "Both of you, check me. My sensors are picking up a distress signal." "Me, too." "Mine as well, sir." "What--" He stopped, unable to believe what his sensors were telling him. "What ID are you getting?" "It says it's a colonial shuttle, sir," Darlette responded first. "It's shuttle three!" Tera bellowed, exuberance and disbelief heavy in her voice. "It's Athena's ship!" "Don't get started!" Ace snapped. "Darlette! Hold station. Wait for the probe to report back. Tera! Form on me. We can check this out in a michron." As the stars swung about his cockpit he added an imperative. "Darlette. If the Lieutenant and I aren't back here in about five centons, or if we broadcast anything to you, jump back to the Fleet and warn them to get away immediately. Understood?" "Understood, sir. Good luck." Ace pressed his foot forward; there was a gentle press of acceleration as his ship immediately reached, then briefly surpassed the speed of light. About fifty michrons later he went sublight again; he noted automatically that Tera had gone subluminal in perfect sychronization. The two made an efficient team. "Got it on screen," Tera snapped. "Copy," Ace responded. The ships swung about, lined up on their target and decelerated rapidly. Within michrons a dark shape began to drift across the starlit spaces around them, visible at first only by the light of the stars it occluded. As the two colonials neared it it became more defined, a dim gray bulk barely visible in the light of the distant binary star. Ace nudged his viper in for a closer look; Tera automatically turned her vehicle outward, covering for her wingman. Ace brought his interceptor to a stop, lighting the rogue vessel's registration line with his maneuvering thrusters. My God, he thought, blinking at the sting in his eyes, it really is. It's Athena's shuttle. But how in the name of-- He shook his head to clear it. Time for such thoughts later; a colonial vessel was in need of assistance. "It's the missing shuttle, all right," he reported to his wingman. "I see no sign of power, although there must be some for the distress call to work. We've got to get word back to the Galactica, have them get a salvage tug out here as quickly as possible." "Y'want me to send Darlette back for help?" Tera asked as the vipers swung back toward the jumppoint. "Negative. Darlette's already locked onto the probe, waiting for the report. I'll join him there. You get back to the Galactica." "Me? Why me?" "Because you love making grand entrances," he told her sardonically. "And this will be the grandest you've made in a while. Tell them to move it. It's a wonder the shuttle's still able to make a distress call; another few centars and it may still be too late." "Roger that. See you in another centar, maybe less." Both vipers went sublight at the same time. As Ace maneuvered his vehicle toward the stationkeeping ensign, his sensors registered Tera's vessel disappearing in a sublight jump through the very jump point that Ace now suspected had saved the life of the sister of his friend. "Hurry, Tera," he couldn't help but whisper to himself, his eyes straying unconsciously toward that sector of space where the newly-rediscovered shuttle floated almost powerless. The mission to chart the foldpoint's other jump destinations had to take top priority; the lives and welfare of a hundred and eighty thousand civilians had to be regarded over the life of one pilot already long presumed dead. There was nothing he in his interceptor could have done. Nonetheless, he felt as though he should be hanging in space right alongside that dying vehicle, waiting to offer the help he knew he could not. The End