This story takes place after the episode "War of the Gods," but still
before "The Man with Nine Lives," and picks up right at the end of
"Severed Ties."

Weight of Command
By Tice Leonard

     Rigel gave the signal.  "Core Command transferring control to
fighter craft.  Launch when ready."
     Lieutenant Det tapped his turbo button and egressed into the
black space beyond.  Red Squadron followed, with Cree coming out last.
     Lieutenant Cree, now.
     As they formed up over the Galactica's topside, Det activated
CORA.  
     "Well, Honey-" she started.
     "Yes," said Det.  "Now is your big chance."
     There was no response from the computer.
     "CORA?"  Det asked.  The new programming in her matrix might
change the way she acted.  If it changed her too much, she would be a
liability in combat.
     "Processing new information," was all CORA had to say.
     Det swung his Viper toward the approaching Cylons.  His squadron
took up position behind him in the Vee wedge that was fast becoming
the trademark of Red Squadron in battle.
     "CORA, respond," ordered Det.
     Still nothing.
     The new tactical display showed the Cylons were just beyond gun
range, closing at killer speed.  They were hot and heavy to avenge
their last defeat - a battle that could just have easily gone the
other way.
     "CORA, I'm giving you about a micron to-"
     "New protocols integrated.  Tactics advanced.  Weapons armed,"
she said.
     That was the one thing Det had always wanted to hear from CORA. 
"Weapons armed" meant she was a lethal force in the face of battle. 
He could finally teach the Cylons a thing or to about what the human
race was made of.
     The irony of the whole thing was the new weapon against a race
of living machines was a machine that had been made more human.  Maybe
the Cylons had more to fear than just Colonial turbo lasers.  Maybe
their end was nearing.
     "Red Squadron, check in," said Det.
     One by one the pilots radioed their readiness.  
     "Cree?"  Det asked.
     "ACURA is ready," said Cree.  "Give the word, Red Leader."
     "Let's score one for the human race," said Det.  He punched off
his turbos, being careful to hold back just enough to give the regular
Vipers under his command a chance to keep up.  With his two enhanced
pulse generators, he was faster than they ever hoped to be.  Except
for Cree in the ACURA ship.  It had three new generators, and could
beat his CORA ship to Hades and back.
     At first, the Cylons seemed to drop back.  They slowed, and
pulled a lazy turn back into the fleet.  Then, as the Viper formations
closed, they let loose with a tremendous fury.
     Det rolled, and pulled his flight up, like a barrage of arrows
spinning madly out of control.  He slammed his ship back down and
fired for all he was worth.  The very sound of the enhanced turbo
lasers was different.  
      Instead of the hollow clanging sound he was used to, this had a
solid ring to it.  He seemed to feel a more powerful rush from firing
the guns.  It was purely subjective, he mused, but the overwhelming
confidence it gave him was hard to ignore.
     CORA could pull a lock on the Cylon ships faster than the old
targeting computer.  Instead of the familiar green outline, his
updated screen gave him an ultra-detailed 3D rendering of the Cylon
ships as they were locked onto.  A second display gave him real-time
information about the other ships, their speed, direction, energy use
rates, and targeting.
     "Tell Branna I love him," said CORA as Det picked off ship after
ship.
     Cree was having quite a ride, too.  He led Red's second flight
as they criss-crossed behind a second echelon.  As fast as CORA was to
track, target, and dispatch the Cylons, ACURA was quicker.
     This took more getting used to.  The ship was thinking far ahead
of Cree.  The lasers recycled faster than a regular Viper, and they
had the same kick as CORA's new guns.  Cree had racked up four before
he could even slow down to turn.
     
     "I don't like this," said Apollo.  "This is the same kind of
attack we saw yesterday."
     "Colonel Tigh said it would have taken three baseships to launch
that many fighters," commented Starbuck.  "With what we destroyed and
what we have here..."
     "Six baseships," said Apollo.
     "They're drawing out our fighters," said Starbuck.  "They're
barely even hitting the fleet."
     "You take Blue Squadron back and guard the fleet.  They've got a
few dozen raiders in there.  I'm going ahead to look."
     "Apollo-"
     It was too, late.  Apollo hit his turbos and left Starbuck and
the rest of Blue Squadron behind.  Starbuck debated going with him.

     "Det," said CORA.  "I am tracking a strange target at bearing
169.5"
     "Display," said Det.
     His old war book computer had been replaced with a fine imaging
system that showed a snapshot of the ship, and not the outmoded green
outline.  It was faster, too.  It skipped right to the proper image.
     "A Cylon tanker," said CORA.  "Energy reading and electronic
signature match those of the ship spotted by Ensign Cree and Lt.
Boomer."
     "Cree's a lieutenant, now," corrected Det.
     "Oh?"  CORA said.  "I was not informed."
     "Cree," said Det.  "Come with me.  Your tanker's back."
     "I've got Brie and Dietra on my scanners," said Cree as he
blasted two more Cylon attack ships.  "They've got some kind of
generic transport with them."
     That was interesting.  His scanner blinked, and he was looking
at a map of the battle.  Far below the position of the Galactica and
her Viper squadrons, he saw four marks.  Two were his missing Vipers,
and one was unidentified.  The fourth was the Cylon tanker.
     "Red Flight One, join Blue Squadron.  Red Flight Two, Silver
Spar," ordered Det.  "Cree and I are going on intercept."
     The ten fighters in Det's force turned back as per their
respective orders.  Cree and Det closed ranks.  They raced off in the
same direction as Apollo.
     "They're coming from the planetary system to starboard," said
Cree.  "Moving slow, matching speed with the transport."
     "Captain Apollo," said Det into his radio.
     "Transmission jammed," said CORA.  "Give me a centon, and I'll
descramble it for you."
     "Don't bother," said Det.  "Just give me every ounce of speed
you can."
     "My pleasure," said CORA cockily.  She blasted the afterburners,
and tore off through the open expanse.  This was one WILD ride,
indeed.  If all of Galactica's Vipers could be upgraded to this level,
the Cylons cold never keep up the war.
     The tanker and Apollo were moving in the wrong direction.  If
Det was going to link up with Dietra, he was going to have to break
off.  He had the luxury though, of sending Cree to the meeting point.
     Just as they entered the system, Det ordered him off.  Det swung
around, and moved in on Apollo's position.

     Apollo could get no reading from his scanners.  Everything was
overloaded.  If he was being jammed, it was the most powerful jamming
he had ever heard of.  He moved in closer to the hulking ship, his
thumb poised on the fire button.
     One-by-one his shipboard systems failed.  He tried to restart
them, but couldn't.  He felt an audile popping sound, then his ship
was struck by a fantasitically powerful shockwave.
     His Viper swam in a sea of flashing lights.  He was thrown out
from the barge toward the planet.  He could not make heads nor tails
of his flight attitude.  He merely knew he was tumbling into the
planet's gravitational field.
     Another Viper was beside him.  It crossed above him, and held a
diving course toward the planet.  Suddenly Apollo had a fix on an
object by which he could take his bearings.  It was only a moment
later he was flying alongside Recon Viper One.
     His com channels were garbled.  No doubt a residual effect of
the Cylon pulse weapon.  But that wasn't his only concern.
     He was still losing altitude.  Two of his engines were out.  The
one was shaky.  He had to put down - fast.
     As they broke into the atmosphere, Apollo counted only two
exhaust trails from the Recon Viper.  Det was in trouble, too.  He
could probably make it to the Galactica, if he pulled out of the dive
now.

     Det knew that if his com was working Apollo would have been
ordering him back to base.  Det was thankful it was fried.  Errant
sparks flew from his instruments.  That Cylon shock weapon had hit him
head on, knocking out most of the computer systems.
     The readout indicated that CORA was active, but damaged.  He
could still utilize the program via digital displays, but not with any
speed, and certainly not in combat.
     Anyway, he had to stay.  Part of the advantage of a scout Viper
was the complete repair kit she carried in her hold under the seat. 
If he went down on a patrol, he could fix his ship and return to base.
     Apollo would not be carrying such a kit.
     He found a nice clearing below and circled to land.  Apollo
followed him, sloppily.  That ship must be bad off.
     They touched down together, then quickly powered the ships under
the cover of foliage.  It wasn't much help if the raiders were sent to
find them, but it would block and visual search.  Det powered down,
and ran over to Apollo's ship.
     Apollo was out, and surveying his ship.  There was no visible
damage, but the white smoke billowing from the left engine told of
deep problems.  He stood back.
     "Are you hurt?"  Det asked.
     "No," said Apollo.  "Are you?"
     "No, sir," said Det.  "CORA is online, but a little scrambled."
     "Good," said Apollo.  "Can you fly?"
     "I could," Det said.  "But we need to repair your Viper."
     "The Cylons hit me with a powerful electromagnetic pulse," said
Apollo.  "It burned out every system inside."
     "The shock weapon," said Det.  "I'll break out the repair kit."
     "I think there's too much damage," said Apollo grimly.  "Branna
could spend sectons on it."
     "We don't have to get it fully operational," said Det.  "Just
flyable."
     "I'm no flight tech," said Apollo.
     "Neither am I," said Det.  "But CORA can track down the
essential systems and get us back in the air."
     "The computer plug?"  said Apollo thinking.  "Like we used to
link her to the simulator."
     "Yes, sir," said Det.  He ran back toward his own ship.  Apollo
suddenly ran after him.
     "Wait!  That plug was added special.  My Viper doesn't have it."
     Det shook his head.  "Doesn't matter.  They added it AFTER the
sim tests began.  We can still tap into the computer through the
receiver box."
     "Where Core Command programs flight vectors?"  Apollo asked.
     "Exactly."
     "Do you know how?"
     "I've been assigned to the Recon Viper ever since my squadron
found that tylium field," said Det.  "No one works on my ship unless I
know exactly what they're doing."
     Apollo beamed.
     It took only a few centons to string up the cable from Recon
Viper One to Apollo's ship.  CORA automatically began the diagnostic,
and displayed the damage on her screen.  Det made a mental check of
what could stay down and what HAD to be repaired.
     "I've got all the components in the kit," said Det.  "Except for
your laser generator."
     "That's fine," said Apollo.  "How long will it take?"
     "Three, maybe four centars.  We have to replace all three of
your pulse generator couplings."
     "What about your ship?"
     Det turned serious.  He ran his hand along the Viper's skin. 
"Well...the kit was never designed to service TWO fighters."
     Apollo was silent.
     "We'll get your ship to fly, and I'll get CORA up and running. 
Don't worry about me, sir.  I'm a survivor."
     Apollo nodded.

     Dietra shook off the rough landing.  She sprang from her ship
and darted toward Brie's fighter.  She wrestled the canopy open and
ripped off her helmet.
     It was Cree.  What in Hades Hole?  He wore a lieutenant's chord
around his collar, and the inside of this Viper was more like CORA
than her own.  Had ACURA been brought online so soon?  Why would such
a new system be pressed into service without at least a few cycles of
shakedown?
     What was the fleet facing that they had sent this young kid into
battle with an experimental design?
     Cree was breathing, so Dietra left him for a moment and ran a
little further on.
     Brie was sitting on the wing of her ship, holding her shoulder. 
She looked up as Dietra approached.  "Felgercarb."
     "My God," said Dietra.  "What was that?"
     "I don't know," said Brie.  "It blew all of my ship's
electronics, and knocked me out of space."
     "Where's the freighter?"
     "I saw it go down over there," said Brie pointing.  "I think
they landed okay."
     "By the Lords of Kobol," said Dietra.  "Three combat ships
slapped out of the sky, and the ancient transport comes out okay."
     "Three combat ships?"  Brie asked.
     "Cree's ship is over there," said Dietra.  "Go make sure he's
okay.  I'll go look for our friends."
     Brie nodded and limped back toward Cree's ship.
     Dietra pressed on to the former hostages' ship.  It had touched
down neatly.  "I have got to get me one of those."
     Even as she made her way down the embankment toward the
transport, she saw the people filing out.  "Is everyone okay?"
     "No," said Matha, "but they will be.  How are you?"
     "Everyone seems to be okay."  To those who didn't know Dietra,
her tone would have sounded disappointed.  It really conveyed
bewilderment.  She looked back toward her downed pilots.  Without Det
or Apollo around, she was in command.  She would need some information
to decide what had to be done.  For that, she would need to talk to
LIEUTENANT Cree.
     She gathered the pilots and passengers around the transport, and
did a quick head count.  Miraculously, everyone was accounted for and
uninjured; save Brie's wounds from before the forced downing.
     "What happened up there?"
     "I don't know," said Cree.  "We spotted a Cylon tender ship of
some kind in orbit, and Det sent me to intercept you.  He took off
after it.  Apollo was already there."
     Probably, Det and Apollo were dead.  Some kind of Cylon
superweapon had blasted them from the stars, and the recoil had
knocked the felger out of any ships nearby.  Sagan!  What were they up
against?  "Is it still up there?"
     "I don't know, Lieutenant," answered Cree.  "That blast knocked
the pogees out of me.  I lost all internal power until just before
landing.  All three engines are dead.  ACURA tried to track down the
problem, but the diagnostic locked up."
     Just another little glitch in Dietra's day.
     "And the canopy's broken," said Brie.  "It looks like it hit a
tree limb on the way in."
     "Well," said Dietra.  "You'll have to leave that hot little ship
of yours here and ride with the passengers."
     "Who are they?"  Cree asked.
     Dietra related the story of their adventure on the last planet,
and how she had won freedom for these people.  Cree was impressed.
     Dietra asked him about his promotion, and Cree explained it to
her.  He told her about heavy Cylon attacks, the rumor of a shock
weapon, ACURA, and the upgrades to CORA.
     "It's possible then that we've stumbled on a new Cylon front,"
said Dietra.  "If I recall, the Cylons used different weapons against
us at the start of the war.  Over time, their technology and tactics
became more like ours."
     "Yeah," said Brie.  "Maybe we've found another ally."
     "Or maybe we've found those guys that had the Delphians so
spooked," suggested Dietra.
     That thought sent shivers down her spine.  If that thing in
space was a COPY of someone else's weapon, how deadly was the
original?
     "Let me go back to my ship and scan," said Cree.  "ACURA will
see it, if it's still there."
     "I'll go with you," said Dietra.
     The three warriors stood.  Dietra looked at Brie, and saw how
stiff she still was.  "You stay here.  Watch out for our friends."
     "But-"
     "Get some rest, Brie," said Dietra.
     Brie grimaced.  "Yes, Lieutenant."
     "Is ACURA all we hoped?"  Dietra asked as they walked.
     "Frak, yes!" said Cree.  Then he stopped.  "I mean, yes,
Lieutenant."
     "No," said Dietra.  "We're equals now.  Don't apologize."
     "It's fast, and could shoot down half the Cylon navy on its
own," continued Cree.  "I had to ease up a couple times or I would
have melted to the seat."
     "G-forces?"
     "I pulled an eight G turn and passed out for a micron," admitted
Cree.  "When I came to, ACURA was pelting a whole battle line."
     Cree's ship was buried in branches he had shot off with his
pistol.  He helped Dietra clear it off and eased into the cockpit.
     "ACURA," he said.
     "Functioning and ready to go," said the computer's female voice. 
"Internal diagnostic is off line."
URA could still not tell what was wrong with her engines.
     Cree swallowed hard and slid his fist through the hole in his
canopy.  "Scan above.  Any contact?"
     "Just one," answered ACURA.  "The same Cylon tender as before."
     "Shut down the scanner," said Cree.  "Don't give away our
position."
     "Affirmative," said ACURA.
     "What would it take to blow it down?"  Dietra asked.
     ACURA's warbook screen lit up.  It displayed a modified Cylon
tanker.  The beautiful color rendering wowed Dietra.  "It is similar
to the standardized container ships the Cylons operate in military and
civilian operations.  I detected no armor, and slightly less mass, no
doubt due to the configuration of the weapon.  It differs from the
standard tanker only in that it has two large battery cells near the
center line.  One solid hit amidship at very close range would be
fatal."  The rendering exploded on the screen for effect.
     ACURA was definitely related to CORA, if somewhat less flirtsy.
     "Continue to scan periodically at random intervals," ordered
Dietra.  "If you detect any raiders contact me on my radio.  Scans are
to last no longer than necessary."
     "They won't find me," assured ACURA.
     "How long will it take to recharge those batteries?"  Cree
asked.
     "I detected no modifications to the container ship's power
systems," said ACURA.  "Assuming a total drain on the batteries,
recharge time would be three centars."
     "It's been almost one since they fired," said Cree.  "We'll have
to get up there soon."
     "I'll have to see how the transport is," said Dietra.  "If it's
ready, we'll launch one fighter to blow it down, and the rest of us
will follow when it's safe."
     Cree nodded and patted ACURA's display.  It still showed the
wrecked hull of the Cylon ship.  Too bad Cree wouldn't be able to
deliver the shot himself.

     Flight Sergeant Marsh felt a strange need to look up at the
catwalk over looking Galactica's Beta landing bay.  Rigel stood alone,
leaning over the railing watching the squadron land.  Her gaze fixed
on Marsh as he climbed out.
     He gave her a small wave.  She responded by wiggling her left
hand.  Marsh smiled at her. She did not give an answer.
     Marsh jumped from his Viper and made for the elevator.  In
moments, he was beside the woman he loved on the metal walkway.  He
didn't need to ask her what was wrong.  It had only been a day since
she had expressed her fears about his career.  Now, his squadron had
been wiped out.
     Apollo, Det, Cree, Dietra, and Brie were missing and presumed
dead.  There were no words to convey her fear, nor the anguish he
felt.  Marsh just wanted to take her in his arms and hold her; to
assure her that everything was okay.  He was going to resign his
flight post, anyway.  Not only to be with Rigel, but for himself.  
     With Det gone, he had no chance of ever being anything but a
flight sergeant.  One look at his service record would end any hope he
had ever had of earning a commission, or becoming an instructor.  He
was dead in the water.
     Rigel turned meekly and leaned her back against the rail.  Her
belly was really beginning to show now.  She looked like she might
give birth at any moment.
     She ran her hand around the protruding area.  "I felt the baby
kick."
     Marsh lit up.  He started to take a step toward her, but checked
himself.  He looked to Rigel for permission.
     Rigel took his hand and guided it toward her stomach.  "Here,"
she said.
     Her uterus was hard.  Marsh could feel the tense tissue
underneath her uniform.  He glided gently across the round area.
     "Say something," said Rigel.  "He responds to voices."
     "Hello, Son," Marsh said.  "Are you sleeping?"
     Nothing.
     "I wanted to tell you something, Kiddo," said Marsh.  "It's
about us.  I've decided to give up combat flying."
     Rigel looked up at him.  "I told you not to do that."
     "It's not for your mother, either," said Marsh.  He bent down
and pressed both hands to Rigel's belly.  "I'm doing it for me.  I
want to be around to watch you grow up.  I want to see your first
steps, and tell you stories, and bounce you on my knee.  I love
flying, but I don't think it's right for me anymore.  Maybe I can get
on with Core Systems.  I've got a friend there, you know?"
     He looked back to Rigel.  She stepped to the side, and bent down
with him.  "Are you sure?  I don't want you to do this unless you're
SURE."
     "I've never been so sure of anything," said Marsh.
     Rigel began to cry.  "I love you."
     Marsh put one hand around her neck, and leaned in.  Rigel closed
her eyes.  Marsh kissed her.
     Rigel threw her arms around him, and the baby kicked.
     "Whoa!" shrieked Rigel.  "Did you feel that?  Tell me you felt
that!"
     "I felt that!  I felt it!"
     "Oh," said Rigel.  "It's your son."
     Marsh kissed Rigel again.  She kissed back this time, like they
had before this situation had begun.  Marsh slid both his hands around
her back, and caressed her passionately.
     The baby kept kicking.  They giggled each time he did.  Marsh
could feel it against his own chest.
     "Ow," said Rigel.  She pulled back.  She held her hand to her
stomach.  "Ow!"
     "What's wrong?  Is he practicing his dirty triad moves?" said
Marsh.
     "No," said Rigel.  "Ouch.  This isn't right."
     She looked scared.  Marsh took her hand and helped her stand. 
"Is that better?"
     "Yes," she said.  "NO!  Oh, oh!"  She doubled over in pain.  She
was sweating.
     "Let's go to Life Station," said Marsh.  He pulled her hand.
     "Yeah," said Rigel.  Each step was a new, untold agony.  She
tried to keep pace with Marsh, but they were going so slowly!
     "Ah!" she gasped.  "I can't make it."
     "You've got to," said Marsh.  "If something's wrong with the
baby-"
     That phrase drilled into her brain.  She stood, and resumed her
trek.  The pain was still there, but so was an inner strength that she
had never had before.  Was this motherhood?  The rest of her life
would be filled with moments like this.  She understood now how her
mother had felt about her.  Why a little time spent with her had meant
so much.  She was going to get to Life Station if it killed her.
     Well...
     Ten agonizing centons later, they arrived outside the medical
center's door.  Marsh helped her in, and set her in a chair in the
outer office.  Salik was there, tending to a mech's bruised arm.  He
looked up at Rigel's arrival.
     "Well, Flight Corporal," he said.  "We didn't expect you until
next secton."
     "She's in pain," said Marsh.
     "What kind of pain?"  asked Cassiopeia as she rushed from the
dispensary cabinet.
     "Here," said Rigel.  "I thought the baby was kicking, but-" She
screamed.
     Cassiopeia moved Rigel's hands away from the area.  She felt the
belly by probing it with her fingers.  Rigel was breathing heavily. 
Tears streamed from her eyes, and she cried out each time Cassie
pressed in.
     "Doctor, I think we need your help," said Cassie.
     Salik sent the mech on his way, and crouched down beside Rigel. 
     Marsh felt he was in the way, and backed off.  He watched the
doctor's face go from concerned to grim.  He could feel the tears
coming to his own eyes, now.
     "Get her on the bed," said Salik.  In microns, two orderlies
lifted Rigel and walked her to a cot in the next room.  Rigel tried to
stretch out, but was forced into a fetal position by the burning in
her belly.
     Marsh tried to follow.
     Cassie blocked his way.  "Please, wait.  The doctor needs room
to work."
     Marsh blew past her, and stood in the corner, out of the way.
     Cassiopeia chose not to fight him.  Rigel was in serious
trouble.  That miraculous growth spurt she had experienced during the
"Count Iblis" affair hadn't done her body any good.  The baby had
developed physically from five to thirty sectons in a matter of hours.
     The bodily systems that sustained him had not.  It had been a
concern all along, but with no medical precedent, they had been left
to guess at any possible complications.  After all, there had been no
problems thus far.
     Marsh bit his fist as Cassie cut off Rigel's uniform.  Rigel was
bleeding - no hemorrhaging.  The pilot's heart stopped.
     From all the joy of just a few centons ago, he was reduced to a
crying fool.  He could feel it, somehow.  He was going to lose his
child.

     "That was quite a piece of flying up there," said Apollo.  "You
saved my life."
     "I just did what I had to, Captain," said Det.  "Anyway, I think
CORA had a bit to do with it."
     "I doubt that," said Apollo.  "She was knocked out.  She was
barely able to diagnose the problems in my ship."
     "Well, I guess I just followed my instincts."
     "Those instincts are good," said Apollo.  "If I had known you
were capable of that kind of precision flying, I would have
recommended you for command of Red Squadron sooner."
     That was a shock to Det.
     "Who else did you have in mind, Captain?  That is if it's not to
much to ask..."
     Apollo considered it.  It was okay to tell Det the truth.  "We
thought about giving it to Starbuck or Boomer, but they turned it
down."
     Det nodded.  No big surprise there.
     "Then we thought about going with an enlisted staff, and giving
Jolly command."
     "Oh," said Det slowly.
     "But in the end, your record was hard to ignore.  You have a
real knack for getting the mission done," said Apollo.  "I decided to
give it to you."
     Det poked his head out of his high engine.  "After everyone else
turned it down?"
     Apollo put his hand on Det's shoulder.  "And you've proven that
you should have been my first choice."
     "I'm glad I didn't disappoint you, Captain," said Det.  He
popped back into the engine.
     "If it makes you feel better, I don't think Starbuck could have
done the job you've done," said Apollo.  "He's just to undisciplined. 
When Red was his, he used to go off half-cocked in the wrong
direction, and breaking orders at every bend."
     "And Red had the highest kill to loss ratio on the Galactica,"
said Det.  "Even higher than Blue's."
     "True," said Apollo.  "But it's not blasting the Cylons that
keeps a squadron together.  It's leadership.  You have it.  He does,
when he wants to."
     Det leaned back against his engine, and rested his foot on his
left wing.  He wiped his hands with a rag.  "Thank you, sir."
     "For what?"
     "For giving me the chance to prove myself."
     Apollo laughed.  "You earned it.  I'm just sorry I didn't see it
before."

     Even as Dietra checked out her ship, she knew she was only
delaying the inevitable.  She had to send one Viper up to blast the
Cylon tanker.  She was in command, and her word would send someone
into terrible danger.
     ACURA's projection said that to score a kill, the attacking ship
would have to be within one hundred metrons.  At that range, the
collateral damage from the weapon's destruction would melt the Viper. 
     Whomever she sent to save their lives was going to die.
     The obvious choice was to send herself, but that was
irresponsible.  She had to lead the flight, and the refugees back to
the fleet.  Brie could do that, unless something came up.  Cree was a
lieutenant now, so obviously the commander thought he could do it, but
he had no command experience, either.
     So, if she couldn't send herself, she would have to send one of
the others.  Which one was the hard part.  Brie was her only real
friend, but that wasn't fair to Cree.  And sending Brie to be fair to
Cree was equally unfair.
     It boiled down to which was better able to perform the mission.
     Cree had more kills, but it was a one-shot mission.
     Brie could handle it.
     No choice Dietra had ever been asked to make was as heavy as
this one.  She felt the weight of command crushing her.  Her own
feelings were the enemy, now.  She would think twice before she
questioned Det again about his decisions - that is if Det was still
alive.
     She looked over at the pilots sitting together under a tree. 
They were chatting like close friends, sharing stories of the last
couple of days.  Brie was saying something about Cree's lieutenant's
chord.
     If they could only feel this with her.
     Dietra let her eyes roam to the storm call that was building off
to the east.  Its massive gray plume soared from below the horizon to
as far as she could see.  Flashes of lightning cut the sky.  It was
strangely beautiful.
     Dietra looked back to her friends.  Brie glanced over to her and
tilted her head.  She was wondering why Dietra had secluded herself
from them.  If she could only talk to her about this...

     Marsh wiped his eyes and bent down over Rigel's bed.  He took
hold of her hand.  She stirred.
     "Are you okay?" Marsh asked.
     "They took my baby," said Rigel.
     "I know," said Marsh.  He buried his face in her stomach from
where her baby had been taken.  
     "I just can't do it," said Rigel.
     "You'll be okay," said Marsh, trying to be strong.
     "I want to be alone," said Rigel.
     "I'll sit over there, if you need me," said Marsh pointing to a
chair.
     "No!" said Rigel.  "I want to be alone!"
     Marsh stepped back from her.  
     Rigel's face was like before.  She was confused, angry, and very
sad.  Marsh slowly backed out of the room.
     So, after all they had been through, they were back to this.  It
had been the baby keeping them together.  She had only sought him out
to let him feel the joy of fatherhood.  They weren't a couple.  They
weren't even friends.
     She hated him again.

     "I think I've got it," said Det.
     "There's my ship," said Apollo.  "What about yours?"
     "I've still got two engines," said Det.  "I can get into space."
     "Well," said Apollo.  "Let's go."
     "Yes, sir."
     Apollo watched Det climb into his fighter.  Really, Apollo had
pushed for Jolly to lead Red Squadron.  He had been overruled by the
colonel.
     For all the good things that Det had done for and with his
squadron, Apollo had never really accepted him, until now.  Part of
being in command of Galactica's fighter wings was learning to do
things for the whole of the unit rather than the individual parts. 
The colonel had known that, and the commander had backed him up.
     Apollo was more at ease with the whole deal now.  He had learned
something from the situation.  He had even learned to admit, if only
to himself, that he had been wrong.

     Dietra stood beside the ACURA ship.  She studied the last scan
of the Cylon tanker.  The batteries were nearly recharged.
     She had made her decision.  She prayed that she could live with
it, and that the warrior she had chosen would forgive her; or at least
understand.
     She slipped down into ACURA's cockpit.  She warmed up the main
displays, and tried the engines.  She had fought against this ship in
the simulator, and she had hoped for a chance to fly it.
     The engines sputtered and died.
     Dietra hung her head.
     "Diagnosis complete," said ACURA.
     "What?"  Dietra said.
     "Engine diagnosis complete," repeated ACURA.  "Pulse generators
two and three are damaged.  Computer relays to pulse generator one are
destroyed."
     Dietra's face lit up.  "Can I swap the relay from one to three?"
     "Affirmative," said ACURA.  "However that will leave me with
only one engine."
     "How are the weapons?"  Dietra asked.
     There was a whirring from the laser generators.  "Functioning."
     Dietra slammed back in the seat and prayed to the Lords of
Kobol.  "Thank you.  Thank you so much."
     "Don't mention it," said ACURA.  "Shall I scan for the tanker
again?"
     "Negative," said Dietra.  She climbed out of the Viper.
     It took only a few centons for Dietra to make the swap.  She
climbed back on the wing of her ship and stood on the left laser pod. 
Leaning inside the cockpit, she relayed her last orders to ACURA.
     "Target confirmed," said ACURA.  "Good luck, Lieutenant Dietra."
     "Good luck, ACURA," said Dietra.
     She jumped down from the laser pod and stood back from the ship. 
The canopy closed, and the right engine whirred to life.  For all the
power that a Viper usually sported, this ship sounded sick.
     Dietra's radio sounded.  "I will let you know when the target
has been engaged," said ACURA.
     Dietra nodded.  This was better than sending a human to die, but
she had a respect for the new computer system.  She almost liked
ACURA.  She still wished there had been some other way.
     Dietra ran back to her friends.  She got Brie to her ship, and
Cree into the transport.  In barely five centons, her flight was ready
to go.
     She watched ACURA launch on her scanner.

     Even with two enhanced engines, Det was slower than Apollo as
they lifted off.  CORA was struggling to activate, and her voice panel
flicked.  Det toggled the controls to give her more power, but it was
no help.
     The secondary screen switched on.  It showed a single Viper,
lifting off very slowly toward the Cylon ship in orbit.  The IFF
indicator showed it was Recon Viper Two.
     "Det to Cree," Det tried his radio.  There was no response. 
CORA had indicated that the radio might work.  She had been unsure as
to its range, or clarity.
     Anyway, maybe Cree's didn't work.
     The lone Viper was going for the tanker.  It was even slower
than Det.  Slowly, the ship closed.  The one functioning
engine sent it upward, and headlong into the tanker.  At just under a
hundred metrons, the Viper fired.
     At first, only a small flash flared, but then it was replaced by
a huge fireball.  It expanded rapidly, and absorbed the whole of the
tanker, and the other Viper.
     When the light faded, both ships were gone.
     Apollo turned, and swung toward the Galactica.  Det took up
behind and to the left.  It was a very long trip back.
     They put down in their respective landing bays, Apollo in Alpha,
and Det in Beta.  Det turned his ship over to Drill, and made for the
squadron room.  To his surprise, the mechs were commenting on possible
problems on Vipers Red Two and Four.  Dietra and Brie were alive!
     He watched the video feed from the battlestar's rear quarter. 
Three ships were coming in; two Vipers and a transport.  His pilots
seemed to have fared better than he and Apollo had.  He stepped back
out to watch them land.
     Dietra came in first.  She touched down and stood on deck,
waiting for Brie.
     Det made for her.  "How are you, Lieutenant?"
     "Fine, now, sir," Dietra said.
     "I'm very glad to see you."
     Dietra knew what he meant.  She knew very well.  She was going
to be just as glad to see Brie when she landed.  Dietra had almost
ordered her to her death.
     It was only a few moments later that both other ships were down.
     Det was surprised, but relieved to see Cree emerge from the
transport.  "What happened, Cree?"
     "Dietra sent ACURA to knock that tender down," said Cree.  "She
sure got the job done."
     "She did," said Det.  "Any problems?"
     "Sir, that ship was the best fighter I've ever had."
     "Well," said Det.  "I'll have to convince the commander to build
you a new one."
     "Great," said Cree.  "I'd love a chance to fly one again."
     Dietra held onto Brie.  Brie was confused, but she held Dietra. 
She nodded a greeting to Det, who nodded back.

     Marsh sat alone in the officers' lounge.  His drink was long
gone, but he didn't care.  He took a small slip of paper from his
pocket, read it again, and put it away.
     It had been centars since Rigel had been released from Life
Station.  Salik had told them both to get some rest.  Marsh had still
tendered his resignation to the colonel, who had promised to look it
over.
     He had gone by Rigel's quarters, just to check on her.  Her
roommate said she was sleeping.  That was an old story.  He was so
tired of her moodiness and fickle ways.
     With Mot gone, he didn't have anyone with whom to share his
feelings.  He could still feel Juna's loss, and now his unborn child
was gone.  He had never been so low in all his life.
     "Hey, Soldier," said Dietra from behind him.
     Marsh looked up.  His face showed just how sad he was.
     "Mind if I sit down?"  Dietra asked.  She held two drinks.  One
for her, and one for Marsh.
     "No, go ahead," said Marsh.
     "I heard about what happened," said Dietra.  "I'm very sorry."
     Marsh said nothing.
     "Look, I don't want to dwell on this, but Rigel's not the best
person I know," said Dietra.  "She had it good, and she ruined it."
     Alright, Dietra thought.  I'm admitting it.  I have feelings for
Marsh.  So what?
     "I can't believe how she's acting," Marsh said.  "I really loved
her."
     "I know," said Dietra.  "But she can't see that right now."
     "I ought to just cut my losses with her," said Marsh.  He was
ticked.  He took the drink Dietra offered.
     This was just too easy, Dietra thought.  She had been handed a
chance to win Marsh over.  She was not going to blow it.
     "Let me help you," said Dietra.  "Let me be your friend."
     Marsh stared into her eyes.  He had seen the looks she had given
him over the quartons they had served together.  She had always been
nicer to him than to any of the other enlisted pilots in the squadron.
     Her ebony skin was tight around her eyes and mouth just now.  It
was unlike Dietra to betray fear.  Was she trying to win him?
     "Okay," said Marsh.
     Dietra smiled and took hold of his hand.  "Thank you."
     Marsh smiled, and stroked her hand with his finger.
     Dietra felt her heart race.  She had dreamed of this day for a
long time.  Marsh was the kind of man she wanted.  He was so much like
her father, strong, handsome, and a real monster when he got mad.
     Just like her.
     That tender moment was cut short by the umpteenth alert in as
many days.  The pilots scrambled for their ships.  Marsh bent over and
kissed Dietra on the cheek as she jumped to her feet.
     In a flash, he was out the door and sprinting down the corridor.
     
     Rigel woke, as though from one bad dream to another.  She
dressed, and waddled her way into the hallway.  Her place was on the
bridge.  She was off the duty roster until Salik said otherwise, but
right now she needed to be immersed in her work.  She needed something
else to keep her mind occupied.

     Marsh flew up the ramp toward his fighter.  He reached in his
pocket and grabbed the slip of paper.  He dropped it on the launch
rail, and left everything he had ever cared about behind.
     With the confirmation from Core Command, Det launched in his
repaired Viper.  Marsh followed a micron later.  His mind was crystal
clear, now.  For the first time in along time, he saw the world
clearly.  He saw himself as he was, a lonely warrior in a fleet that
was running for its very life.

     Rigel stepped into the bridge.  She moved uncomfortably toward
the Core Systems console, and tapped the on duty man on the shoulder. 
The man looked up, then back to Colonel Tigh.
     Tigh nodded, and the man vacated the seat for Rigel.
     She switched the screen to a tactical display of the battle. 
The various Vipers showed up as simple green blips, highlighted with
the individual IFF numbers.  She picked out R-5, which was Marsh's
Viper.  She touched her fingers to the blip, and said a prayer for
him.
     One by one, the Cylon ships moved in, attacked the battlestar,
and moved back out.  She watched Marsh all the while.  He had already
taken out two, and he was close up on a third.
     Slowly, the numbers worked into the Galactica's favor.  She was
so relived when Commander Adama gave the recall order.  She began to
cry once again.
     She looked back to the on duty specialist, and gave him the seat
back.  She left the bridge, and made for the landing bay.  Marsh was
right.  Everything was going to be okay.

     "That's the recall signal," said Dietra.  "They're out of here."
     "Red Squadron, form up," said Det.
     The squadron pulled together, forming a loose Vee formation. 
They arced on a course back toward the battlestar.
     Det's readings were coming up short.  CORA seemed to sense the
tension and widened her scans.  "All pilots report in."
     One by one, his warriors keyed the mics and called in.  Dietra. 
Brie.  Cree.  Waine.  Matthew.  Grendle.  Ajax.
     Marsh?
     CORA had found him.  His ship was halfway across the sector,
CHASING THE CYLONS!
     "Felgercarb..."  Det snorted.
     "Are you okay, Lieutenant?"  Dietra asked.
     "I'll tell you later," said Det.  "Take the point, Dietra.  I've
got a lost sheep to find."
     "Right behind you,"  said Cree.
     "Negative,"  Det answered.  It was one of the hardest orders he
had ever given.  "I'm going alone."
     Quickly, Det pulled his Viper out of formation and whipped it
back toward Marsh's lone vehicle.  CORA engaged the twin pulsed
engines and launched the fighter across the stars.
     CORA could barely read the distant craft.
     "Marsh," Det called.  "Buddy, come in."
     He gave time for Marsh to answer.
     "Marsh, do you read?"
     "Our signal is reaching him," said CORA.  "If he does not
respond it can only be a malfunction on his end, or..."
     "Or he doesn't want to answer."
     "That would be the other possibility,"  CORA said.
     "Time to intercept?"  Det asked.
     "Six centons," said CORA.  "However, Marsh's Viper will reach
the Cylon phalanx in 5.5 centons."
     "Can you increase speed?"  Det asked.
     "Negative," said CORA.  "I am at full emergency speed now."
     "Frak," spat Det.
     "I second that," said CORA.
     There was nothing to do but count down the microns.  Det watched
the scanners, and prayed for anything to happen.
     "He's slowing," CORA said.
     "Lords be praised!"  Det said.
     "We will catch him 25 microns before he engages the Cylons," 
CORA stated.
     Not much time, but it was 25 microns.
     "Marsh, what are you doing?"  Det asked into his open mic. 
"Talk to me, Friend."
     Marsh's Viper was still beyond visual range.  Det strained his
eyes forward.  Then, he saw a flash of blue.
     "He has reengaged his turbos," CORA reported.  "We will now
catch him 6 microns before he reaches the Cylons."
     "When will he reach weapons range?"  Det asked.  Scanner range
was irrelevant.  Fleeing Cylons rarely, if ever scanned to the rear. 
After yahrens of war, it had become evident that the Colonial warriors
did not pursue retreating fighters.
     "Four microns, three microns, two, one,"  counted CORA. 
"Marsh's Viper is within weapons range."
     Flashes of red lit the sky in front of Det.  He could just
barely make out the shape of the big raider ships, and their brilliant
blue volleys as they zeroed in on Marsh's Viper.
     The Viper was a white spot accented by her blue thruster tail
plumage.
     The forty plus Cylons in the phalanx broke up.  About half
turned to the left, and half to the right.  They turned back on Marsh.
     "CORA..."
     "Weapons ready.  Locked on.  Evasive pattern plotted."
     "Go!"
     Recon Viper One pulled to the left, pelting the turning raiders
as they twisted for the shot on Marsh.  CORA hit three, four, six.
     Blue and red fire exploded all around Det's ship.  He saw the
flashes from hits and near hits.  The ship explosions almost blinded
him.  With everything going on, how was Det able to pick out the
single flash that marked the end of Marsh's life?
     "Evasion pattern Beta 2,"  Det shouted.  "Maximum speed!"
     CORA didn't even bother to respond.  She kicked into the force
of Cylons, then fired off a second burst of thrust.  She twisted up,
over, and then around the Cylon wall that had blocked her way. 
Suddenly, CORA was flying straight for the Galactica, at full speed,
while the Cylons were flying dead opposite, at full speed.
     The Cylons did not pursue.
     "I'm sorry, Det," said CORA.
     "I know," said Det.  
     The single Viper cut speed to save power.  Time seemed to stand
still.  Det held the flight stick, even though CORA was doing the
flying.

     Dietra didn't know how to feel.  She had caught the gist of what
had happened, but nothing made sense.  Marsh had turned his ship into
the force of fleeing raiders after the attack was over.
     She parked her Viper just off the landing strip, and climbed
out.
     Her anger flared when she saw Rigel standing alone at the far
end of the pad.  What was she doing down here, anyway?  She had just
lost her baby.  She was supposed to be in bed.
     But, she saw Rigel start to shake.  Dietra found herself drawn
to her, and caught her just as she fell.  She eased Rigel to the
floor.
     Rigel reached out to Dietra, and cried again.  That seemed to be
what she was good at.  That and breaking young warrior's hearts. 
Dietra wanted to let her slam into the hard floor, but she wrapped her
arms around the distressed woman.
     And then, a strange thing happened.  Tears began to flow from
Dietra's eyes.  She hadn't even cried when she had watched the Cylons
kill her father.  
     The two women shared a bond now that was stronger than any
sisterhood they could have forged in life.  Marsh's death was the most
pain either of them had felt in almost a yahren of travel from their
home worlds.  Together, they bore the brunt of the Galactica's
grieving.
     Across the bay, Drill handed Det a small slip of paper. 
"Marsh's mech chief found this after Marsh went off."
     Det took and read it.  He turned white as his eyes made sense of
the words.  "Did you read this?"
     Drill nodded.
     "Who else?"  
     "Just his mech chief," said Drill.
     Det took a deep breath.  "The two of you are under orders not to
discuss this with anyone.  As far as you know, this never existed."
     Drill nodded.
     Det made for the colonel's office like a shot.
     The paper contained a simple list of people.  All were key
players in Sgt. Marsh's life.
     Mot.
     Juna.
     His son.
     Rigel.
     The last name on the list was Marsh's.
     Only Rigel was still alive, and when Marsh had launched, she had
broken off their relationship again.  Det glanced back at the open end
of the bay.  Losing a pilot under his command hurt every time.  Few
had the moral fiber that Marsh had.  Det could feel the grim reality
of war, and the weight of command.  "Good bye, Marsh."

This story is a work of fan fiction, and is not intended to infringe
on the copyrights of Universal, ABC, Glen Larson Studios, or any other
corporations involved with Battlestar Galactica. It is intended solely
for distribution on the Internet, and the enjoyment of those BSG fans
who read it.  Please direct feedback to me at TiCeL@aol.com
I hope you enjoyed it.