Phase One - Shadows

"You're fine," said the attending nurse with a distinctly Caprican accent. She rolled her eyes as if scolding a young child for crying over a bruised knee.

"You sure? I mean.. I inhaled a lot of smoke back in there and I swear to the Gods I must've broken something in the explosion."

"I've checked you twice now. You're fine and I've got more pressing cases to attend to. Go get some rest, drink some water, and you'll feel completely healthy in the morning.. other than the bruises you already had from the fight with the CAG earlier."

Now it was John's turn to roll his eyes.

"I won you know."

"Sure."

She turned and walked away with the smug attitude of victory trailing behind her like a strong perfume. John hated it. He pushed himself off the bed and stretched his back, hoping to relieve some of the awful tension that had been tightening his spine ever since he'd left the Hangar Deck. He was rewarded with a shot of pain that reminded him of a firm boot to the back.

"Frak it all.." he grumbled to himself as he slipped his flight vest back on and headed for the janitors closet that was serving as his temporary quarters.

Wait a second. What are you doing? You won, remember?! You get to sleep in the CAG's quarters tonight. Let her have the frakkin' closet!

The thought of the woman who, only earlier that day, had broken his nose, sleeping with her head in a mop bucket made him feel just a little better as he headed off towards her quarters.

T-0 Day – 2047 – Ordina Asteroid Field, Battlestar Rhea – CAG’s Quarters

The door slid open. Dim light from the corridor poured into her as-dim quarters, right towards her bed. Elena saw him there, a silhouette against the darker wall, still showing many features, as her eyes were already used to the lighting conditions. Nagala was lying on her rack, apparently still in full gear, down to his boots. She clenched her fist when she noticed that he didn’t respect her property at all, that he just stomped onto it. But his face seemed to be blank, his breathing a little hastened but steady. Sound asleep... probably having a nightmare.

Hesitantly, she stepped into her rooms, drew closer to him and looked around. All of her other belongings, her piano and guitar, her books and her wardrobe, were untouched. And he didn't seem to notice her as he did not move or react in any way.

She stopped and noticed how unsteadily she was walking. The alcohol and exhaustion showed more effect by the minute. For a moment, she took into consideration to sleep on her couch instead of the bed but then again, it would have satisfied him even more to see that she was backing away from him. And she couldn’t let that happen. Elena was aware of how close she had been to killing him but to let him notice it would make her vulnerable and weak. He would use that to full extent.

So she just rubbed her eyes tiredly amd massaged her stiff neck. And upon opening her pony tail, releasing her hair, she started to undress.

-----------------

John's eyelids were closed tight, holding in his rapidly swinging eyes. He was in a dream state, a nightmare world of smoke, fire, the smell of burning flesh and death all around him. He couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. Instead he lay there, petrified, on the deck of the Atlantia's CIC. He'd seen it once before, when he was a boy. His father had taken him on a tour of the ship, back when it had been their finest new Battlestar. It looked very different now. Bodies were strewn across the deck around him. Explosions rocked the ship and sent sparks flying around the room. Everywhere he could see, flames were licking up from the floor, from the consoles. Someone was screaming in pain. That horrible scream that can only mean certain death for its creator.

In the center of the room was a dark figure.. tall and strong. He could barely make out who it was through the smoke and haze, but he was sure in his gut that it was his father. He tried to call out to him, but no sound would form from his frozen mouth. The heat was so intense.

Then, suddenly, there was another explosion and the tall figure was thrown from his post, cast down upon the deck nearby. Nagala could see clearly now the face of his father, lifeless and charred. Blood and burned flesh covered his left cheek and his eyes stared off into eternity. The flames began to pick up, and the sounds of the battle became hushed.. muted. Then there was silence and darkness.

As the door to the quarters swung open, John's eyes found only blackness around him. Then he remembered. The power was out. He closed his eyes again, trying to calm himself from the dream. The smell of alcohol that wafted into the room along with the CAG was not helping to settle his churning stomach.

He heard her stumble across the room and stop. He would have been drinking himself, were it not for the pain that continued to stab at his gut from the earlier fight. Pulling Gs in a Viper, even though he'd barely been involved in the earlier dogfight, had not made things any better and despite the nurse's insessant assurances that he was fine, he felt horrible.

Then he heard something that caught his attention. He opened his eyes again, slowly, and found himself able to see relatively well in the darkness after having his eyes shut for so long. He watched silently as she began to remove her shirt, slipping it over her head quietly. She probably thought he was still asleep. Then she sat on the small sofa in the corner and began to pull off her boots.

John hadn't really thought about it before but, despite her harsh attitude and strong arms, she had a very feminine, very attractive figure. She was beautiful.. almost fragile somehow. John wondered if it was the same woman who had pinned him to the deck and broken his nose only hours previous. Was it possible?

She stood, apparently having removed her boots, and began to un-fasten her belt. John's interest grew. He watched as she slowly removed the last bit of flight suit she had on, trying not to make a sound. He felt like his breathing could have shook mountains, but she didn't seem to notice it. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"That you, CAG?"

The voice was incredibly loud in the absolute silence, ripping through it like a blunt blade through raw steak. It made her wince, made her wonder how long he had been watching because his voice sounded throaty but not sleepy. But somehow she had suspected that he might be watching.

Her gaze fixed on his face. The weak emergency lighting in her room was reflected by the moist of his eyes, so she knew exactly that their looks met. And instead of grabbing her clothes again and covering herself in her underwear, she straightened her back and responded a plain “Yeah”.

The fact alone that this basic question and the even more primitive answer were not insults or any other kind of opening for an argument was amazing. She couldn’t remember having had a single exchange with him that didn’t immediately turn into a struggle for power. And this circumstance was enough to wash all her strain away at once. Elena walked over to her bed and sat down next to him, looking at his face. All the hatred that was usually there simply… wasn’t there now. Understanding had taken its place.

John watched as the CAG sat down beside him on the bed. Were it not for the ambrosia on her breath and her state of undress, he wouldn't have guessed she was intoxicated. In fact, she was handling her liquor extremely well.

Probably drinks a lot, he told himself. She's had a tough life. Makes sense, I guess... What's my excuse?

“Must be hard for you”, she stated into the re-established silence. Saying this almost sounded like a different approach to the conversation she had had with Tracey before they had ceased talking in favor of hugging each other. But this had a different feeling about it.

They would hit the flag ship first. His father's probably dead.

“I guess it sounds empty and overused but… I really am sorry for your loss.” There it was again, just like before: ‘Your’ loss, like she was addressing all that was left of humanity, everybody else. It excluded herself, like she wasn’t related at all, only sharing the outer appearance. And it made her smile bitterly to be aware of it. Tracey's words and warmth had comforted her, moved her. But then again, as much as she wanted it: After that many years, nobody could set her free from her inner demons just like that.

"No," he said. "That's all right. You know, you're the first person to even.. to even talk to me about it. Actually, you're one of the few people I've even talked to at all since the attack. I tried to find Phoenix after the battle.. but.. but I couldn't find her."

He looked around at the darkness, trying to work out his emotions. He'd spent his life being carefree and arrogant, never really caring about anyone. Now it was too late. All those people he had taken for granted over the years - his mom, his brother.. even his father - they were dead. His friends in the fleet.. what few of them there were, anyways.. were dead too. Phoenix was all he had left. If she was gone too, then...

"I just.." he said, trying to keep his mind off the idea with talk.

"I just wish I wasn't such a frakking jerk off. You know what I mean, of course. All I've been doing since my dad forced me into the service is trying to get out. Now it's all I've got. There's nowhere else to go. My life has become a nightmare and now I can't do a frakking thing about it. All I wanted was to prove to my father that I was a man. That I had it in me to survive as a Viper Pilot. But that wasn't enough for him. I had to become a frakking Admiral before I was getting out.. just like him."

He turned back to her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You don't need to hear this. You're not the damn ships counselor or a priest or anything like that..."

“It’s alright”, she responded, shaking her head at his last remark. She always knew that he couldn’t just be the loudmouth he presented to everybody else, that there had to be a reason behind it. But to look into his head was something she couldn’t describe. It was like she was finally looking into a puddle that showed an only slightly altered image of herself.

She exhaled audibly.

“It’s not that I… really hate you, you know? It’s just that I… somewhat switched sides.” She laughed softly. “Probably sounds like I’m an old woman but... you remind me a little of how I was when I was young, really young. It’s not easy to survive as an orphan on Gemenon. I had to fight to prove myself, to be free, to show that I was hard, that I could take on everybody, even my housemasters. That I wouldn’t pray to their Gods, no matter what they did. The only difference is that I had to fight in order to survive and you did because you didn’t want to be what he imagined you to be.”

She bit on her lower lip, only for one second, and took a breath that sounded like she was on the verge of crying, but her voice still hadn’t changed. Her matter-of-fact tone was still the same, though it sometimes was darker or sounded amused.

“In the end, the difference doesn’t matter. We both fought authority, in a way. Now, somewhere down the road, you were still fighting because the military represented everything your father was to you. For me, it was the opposite. It was a new beginning, a chance to realize my dreams, not to ever give a frak about my past anymore."

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't cover all of her sadness. And she wondered how it was possible for her to open up like this to him, after everything that had happened. Was it because of Tracey? Because he seemed like a similar mind? Anyways, it felt relieving. Not as much as before but... good. And it even felt good to listen to him, take a little of his pressure, ease his pain. Still, she wanted to avoid showing too much of her own sorrow as possible, even if it was a losing game.

"It was my chance to show that I was strong, that I was smart and that I could do anything I wanted to, get to the top. And every time you behaved like that, every time you challenged me and my rank, it hurt because you showed me that all of my work might be meaningless and that, in the end, nothing changed at all. That I’m basically still in the orphanage and fighting the other children just to be safe for one more day.”

Her voice cracked at the last few words.

Meanwhile, John sat in the dark, listening. So there was more to Ice than she showed. Pain and anger inside, like himself, that she kept to herself. She was human after all.

"I'm sorry," he said. The words were unfamiliar, but true.

"Sorry for what I did. I know I can't change the past, but you should know that I... That I only act this way because.. I.. I don't even know why. Maybe because I can't deal with my own problems. I turn my anger at myself and at my father on other people. I never hated you either, and I never really meant any of the things I said. Just my way of trying to alleviate my own insecurities. Around you, I feel incompetent and.. well.. inadequate, I guess."

He smiled.

"And hey," he said. "I mean, you kicked my ass pretty bad earlier. I know it might not sound like much coming from the likes of me, but you're probably the toughest.. most badass person I know - man or woman. You earned your rank and I've just been coasting through unhappily on my fathers coat-tails. You don't have to prove yourself to anyone. Least of all me."

For a moment, she looked at him in surprise. Then she... laughed, barely managing to get a "Thank you" out. And she laughed even harder when she went on, "It really feels good to have you kissing my ass for once".

And it really did. Not so much for the compliment, though she really felt a little better, but more for the fact that this teasing remark wasn't an insult but just a joke; that he, for the first time, gave her the feeling that she could make a joke that he wouldn't understand as mocking. And that she could laugh wholeheartedly in his presence, which had basically been an impossibility.

Once she settled down again, she couldn't help but yawn, stretch her back and arms, even wrinkle her nose, just like a cat would do it. And at that occasion, Elena looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, you're not seriously going to sleep in my bed with your boots and your gear on, are you?" Her voice made clear that it was a rhetorical question. But this apparently strict side of her vanished again when she winked and said: "My rack, my rules."

John's smile grew and he shrugged.

"Yes, Sir!"

He stood up and moved over to the other side of the room, pulling off his jacket as he walked and tossing it on the sofa ahead of him.

She grinned at him and laid herself down, rolling over to wall side of the bed and covering herself with the blanket, watching him undress. So did he, at least for some time.

"It would be unfair, if you were the only one to watch somebody, wouldn't it?", she asked in a innocent, charming tone. This, actually, was one of the alcohol's effects: She was a little more talkative, a little more teasing and cared a little less about some things, such as how her behavior was perceived or where it might lead.

John stopped for a second, then finished pulling his shirt over his head. He rubbed his arm sheepishly.

"Oh. So you knew I was watching... Uh, well, you know.. I'm a Viper Jock. Can't really help it. Hope you don't mind."

She didn't look like she did. After all, she had gotten undressed anticipating that he was awake, knowing he might be watching her. How much farther would she have gone, had he not spoken?

"Right."

He kicked off his boots and slipped out of his pants, folding them neatly on the sofa beside his jacket, then headed back over to the bunk, feeling like it was an entire gallery of people watching him, not just this one woman.

"Like what you see?" he asked with an obviously forced chuckle, trying to break the tension forming in his own head and calm the butterflies in his stomach.

She rested her head on her arm and gave him a look from the side when he lay down next to her, wearing just as little as she was. There was nothing to deny about the impressiveness of his build. He simply was good looking, attractive down to his bare skin. He probably was just as popular with the women as she was with the guys. But there was nobody in the room but them, right now. And he was close, very close to her... It was strange how that occurred to her...

John couldn't help but admire her. At first she had seemed so cold, so masculine. Unapproachable. Now, here they were, together in her rack, each of them wearing very little. She was incredibly beautiful. That was impossible to miss. Her body was shaped wonderfully, and he couldn't help himself but notice, now that they had opened up to eachother.

"Um... You know... Out there, during the attack... You really saved me back then. I don't know, my..."
He seemed to draw closer, while she made a long pause, underlining her words...

"...mind went blank when the Raider turned about in front of me and... I gave it too much thought, wondering, instead of shooting."
No... Elena was the one who slowly moved, who's heart and head had gone numb before suddenly racing.

"I probably would be dead now, if you hadn't... Well..."
An innocent voice in the back of her head asked, what exactly she was planning to do, while her gaze was jumping from his lips to his eyes and back again, constantly.

"Don't worry about it... I mean.. I..."

She knew that she had crossed the point where she found excuses for her movement, where she could ignore, or rather deny it. He noticed, too. Neither of them could deny that she was dangerously close. Then she even lifted herself up and put her other arm to John's opposite site to keep her balance.

Their faces were only centimeters apart and, taking in his scent, his looks, his facial expression and dry lips, her chest felt like it would burst open, like her heart would stop at any moment from the stress. Elena looked into his eyes, searched for a reason not to go on, not to give in, almost begged him. But she couldn't find any rejection in then and reason itself wasn't strong enough to stop her. They were both too close, both anticipating too much what she had initiated.

"I really shouldn't do this", she whispered, her voice trembling from want. Audibly, her last line of defence went down and she ceased all resistance against her craving. A split-second later, their lips met, her tongue already eagerly brushing against his skin. And it just felt good. Good enough to last for some time, their eyes closed, concentrating on the feeling...

When it eventually ended, John looked at her. Even in the dim light, he could make out every feature. Her olive skin, nearly the same shade as his own. Her black hair, no longer in a ponytail behind her head, but perfectly framing her face, caressing her shoulders.

"You're right," he said. "You shouldn't. Then, neither should I.."

He swallowed hard, felt his throat tighten and release. He'd never been this nervous before in his life. Not during training, not when his dad came home drunk and angry, not around any of the dangerous women he'd mingled with over the years. There was something different about her. Something intangible, and yet overpowering.

"..but I think both of us just did."

Instead of feeling relieved, Elena felt better but also... worse, like she had been clean from a drug for years and now took a sip of it again. She looked down at his face, her torso lifted on top of him, their mouths still very close.

"You ought to stop me", she stated quietly, while her legs crept closer to him, following the example of her head. Booming heartbeats filled her ears but couldn't drown their labored breaths. She was well beyond self-control. She couldn't have done it in the first place. All the circumstances added up: The stress from the attack, her pent-up longing for physical love, the alcohol and the feeling Tracey had caused in her, especially with her kiss... It all lead into one direction: The part of her that was in control wanted to go on, no matter how stupid, how dangerous it was.

An electrical jolt was sent up her spine when the skin of her legs touched him. Don't..., reason yelled in a last, futile attempt. But she did sit down on his lap, their faces still very close, her open hair shaping a veil around them. Their chests touched and they felt each others hearts, pressed up against one another other with each breath. Again, she lowered herself, found his lips and kissed him, more demanding this time, while one of her hands slowly traveled down his neck.

John wrapped an arm around her back. He too, was beyond the point of no return. He was weak, and he knew it. He could never hold his own against a strong woman in any capacity, and Ice definitely fit into that category. She kissed him again, this time more forcefully. He returned the gesture. His hand ran up along her thigh as they began to move together, the wonderful sensations coursing through their bodies still only teasing them; small glimpses of what was to come.

He began to lose track of individual moments, the sensations blurring together in his mind. He felt her hands on his bare skin, his on hers. Somehow they found their way out of the few remaining clothes they had on and shed them like old, unwanted rags; tossing them across the room in favour of nature's perfect vestments and pulling eachother closer. Together they worked out a rhythm, every movement bringing new and incomparable sensations...


Joint post by:
Elena Vance
John Nagala

Ethan was unceremoniously pushed into his quarters as the marine guards closed and locked his door. "Frakking prick," Ethan muttered to himself as he started unbuttoning his uniform and walked over to his desk. Hanging his uniform top over his chair, Ethan took one look at the reports on his desk and shook his head. "Frak it," he muttered. "I’ll let the poor soul replacing me worry about it."

"What did I tell you about your language when our daughter is in the same room," a voice suddenly said from behind him.

Ethan turned his head and saw Samantha standing behind him, wrapped in one of his bed sheets. "Watch your tongue or lose it?" Ethan said lightly as he took out a bottle of ambrosia from his bottom drawer and poured himself a bit. Swigging down the drink, Ethan poured himself another one and leaned forward onto the table in front of him.

"What’s wrong?" Samantha asked as she approached Ethan from behind.

Ethan laughed softly as he downed his second glass and resumed leaning on the table. "What makes you think something is wrong?" Ethan asked as he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist.

"Other than the fact that you are drinking, which you rarely do, your body is as stiff as a pole, which only happens when your stressed out," she said as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "Not to mention the fact that I was once one of your pilots back in the good old days when you were a CAG. And although you may not have thought so, we paid attention when you spoke and got used to knowing when you were angry just by listening to your voice."

Ethan laughed again as he turned around and faced Samantha. Her arms were still wrapped around his waist. "Am I really that easy to read?"

"Only to me," she responded with a smile.

Ethan smiled as he leaned over and rested his head in the crook of her neck. The two embraced each other for several minutes, ignoring the outside world. "I’ve been relieved of my position," Ethan said suddenly as he pulled back and looked into Samantha’s eyes. "The Commander and I had a disagreement regarding the condition of the crew and how to deal with them."

"What do you mean?"

Ethan shook his head and pulled out from the embrace. He started to pace behind his desk as Samantha stared at him, waiting patiently for him to explain. "Apparently, any man who is grieving and acting irrational because of that grief, deserves to be shot," Ethan said as he ran a hand through his hair. "We had a pilot earlier today, try and steal a raptor to rescue his family on Aerelon. According to the Commander, any man who tries to do that deserves to be put against a wall and shot."

Ethan stopped and looked back and Samantha, conveying his frustration through his eyes. "The man is so bloody afraid of losing control of his ship, that he doesn’t realize that if he keeps doing what he’s doing, he’ll lose control of the ship anyways. I tried to tell him that the crew needs a Commander right now and not a dictator, but he flat out refused to listen to me."

Ethan unceremoniously fell into his chair and dug the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to get himself to remain awake. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say the man was trying to get us killed," he muttered offhandedly.

Samantha sighed and walked behind his chair and started massaging Ethan’s shoulders. "There’s something wrong about that man," Samantha said suddenly.

Ethan furrowed his eyes brows and looked over his shoulder and Samantha. "What do you mean?"

"Just… Just the way he was looking at Alexandra and I, when we first met him," Samantha said as she relived the moment. Her hands stopped their worked on Ethan’s shoulders as he covered them with his own hands. "Something about his look sent a chill down my spine."

21:38

The Battlestar Rhea floated aimlessly through the asteroid field, quiet and dormant. Aboard the ship, the living slept or lay awake praying. All thoughts turned to those dead. Some were glad to have escaped their pasts - others mourned their losses. All, however, felt secure in the knowledge that they would continued to fight back against the Cylons.. those machines, devoid of compassion, who had coldly wiped away the civilizations of man.

None of them knew how soon that battle would begin.

In the silence of space there was a brilliant flash of light as a great ring formed. Collapsing back upon itself, a ship appeared - its long spires glinting in the light of the nearby sun.

"We've arrived," said the Four softly. He looked up at the Six, who stood across from him, eagerly awaiting his news, and smiled.

"They're here - and it looks like they are without power. I'm not picking up any engine activity or fighter deployment."

The Six touched his shoulder and nodded happily.

"Should we begin firing on them?"

"No.. No I want to find out just what Cavil was up to. Why they fled from the battle rather than dying with the rest of the fleet."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Most of the fleet."

"Fine. Most of the fleet... Anyways, I want Cavil brought back here alive. We're out of resurrection range and if we destroy the ship now we destroy him. He may yet have value. Assemble ten Centurions and prep a heavy raider for deployment. We'll bring back Cavil and destroy the ship from within"

The Four sighed.

"What?"

"I can't help but shake the feeling that this is personal. Like this whole course of action is just to prove wrong a certain resident One."

"Don't be foolish," she said, her gaze suddenly turning icy. "I don't bring personal feelings into command. Unless you want to waste time taking a vote..."

"That's.. not necessary."

"Good. Send the boarding party."

"By your command."

(OOC: There we go. got it started and got it to a point where the ship will start to know it. Hope no one minds just had a moment of creative flow)

”Fraking command types! They get to sit in comfy office’s and make all the hard choices.”

”Pipe down Tom. Last thing we need is to get them thinking we are starting a mutiny.”

Both men looked at each other and laughed, having just finished a double shift trying to repair part of the power grid. Walking down one of the corridors they continued their banter until ahead of them two of the emergency lights began to flicker then fade to nothing. Looking at each other Tom grabbed the screwdriver from his kit.

”It’s probably the anodine relay again. Damn things never work the way they are meant to. Should never use them.”

He walked towards an access panel a few feet from the dark corridor. Opening the panel he turned and grabbed a flash light from his belt.

”What is it tom?”

Turning back to Sam, Tom shrugged his shoulders and was about to turn back when a worried look from Sam made him turn suddenly. All Tom saw before he felt the cold embrace of death was the red glow, moving from side to side, humming gently. A lament to the colonies.

”FRAK ME!!! TOM!”

Sam turned and ran around the corner, narrowly missing the hail of bullets that rained on the bulkhead behind him.

Seeing a small group of Marines ahead of him he ran even faster.

”Cylon’s or something that way. We ne…..”

His sentence was blocked out by a spray of blood from his mouth. 5 fresh and bleeding holes pieced the man covering the marines in his blood.

”OPEN FIRE!”

The marines started to fire on the metal beast’s. 2 Marines fell almost instantly the rest began to work there way around the next corner. Reaching a phone the Fire teams CO picked it up.

”Get me who ever is in charge! We have cylons down here! We need back u…”

The phone and the head that is was attached to ended up sprayed over the wall as the metal clanks and humming of the beast’s walked past and continued to their target..

21:53


The room was silent again. Moans had filled it earlier, but they were gone now. They had faded, turned into stressed breathing, and eventually went soft, peaceful. The previous-arch-enemies were asleep; Elena still lying half on top of him, resting in his arm, cuddled up against him. She was dreaming of her childhood, the orphanage, the dark rooms and hostile faces that all seemed to look the same... and also some misplaced images. Some from corridors that resembled those of a battlestar but were different, and some from pitch-black rooms with tubs in them, filled with strange, opaque liquids. The most bizarre fact about it was that she seemed to be in one of them herself. Elena heard a voice; knew that she did though there wasn't one, turned her head, looked into the barrel of a gun, held by an old man with a somewhat familiar face-

-and woke up startled, inhaling heavily. She looked around, alarmed, but eventually breathed out and let the strain go again. Only a nightmare... There's nobody around who's going to shoot. The warm body next to her was comforting, led her heart back to its resting pulse. Then she realized that there was somebody next to her, that she knew who it was and that they were both completely naked. And her heart started racing again. We really did it. We had sex. Gods, this was really so far over the line...

A sound made her wince. Something like a leftover from the dream. But then, there it was again.. and not only a single one, but several at once: Gun shots. There was no doubt, now. Elena lifted herself up a bit, staring into the darkness of the room. There was yet no other source of light than the emergency lighting. Once she had found her balance, she shook John's shoulder.

"Hey!", she whispered urgently, knowing that the gunfire had been quite close. "Hey, wake up! Wake up, John!" She shook him more anxiously. "Come on, wake up, soldier!"

John stirred from his dreams, which had taken a more pleasant turn from the nightmares of earlier. He had had a wonderful dream in which he and the CAG had...

Wait a second.

He looked down, then to the side. There was Elena, still naked, looking over him with a look of urgency.

"Oh frak, did..."

He shut up, suddenly, hearing the gunfire ringing out in the halls as well, followed by a muffled scream. His head turned sharply towards the door on the other side of the room. The sofa, where both their clothes lay in haphazard piles. His head told him to run for his gun, check that it was loaded, be ready for anything. Gunshots in the ship could mean any number of things.. none of them good.

But something else made him hesitate. He looked back at the woman he had shared a bed with.. and so much more.. and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, lightly stroking his thumb across her warm skin.

Then he got up, quietly, and headed towards the other side of the room, towards his weapon. As the sounds of gunfire grew closer and closer, he looked back to see if she was following him.

And she did, picking up her underwear while drawing closer to her armory belt, just like Nagala. Dressing up felt more daring now than it had to undress, with all the muffled screams around them. Elena was fast, though, and once she wore a pair of trouser and a top over her undies aswell as her boots, just the most necessary garment, she put on the belt, drew the gun and pointed it at the door, so that now John could savely get dressed.

"I don't know what's going on but it probably isn't too far fetched to assume that we were boarded. Our rifles just don't sound like... that." As if to emphasise her statement, rapid fire was audible. She didn't really sound frightened, but rather professional, calm, just like she had to be. Figuring out what the Cylons would do and preventing them from it was something else, though. They were two people, and had only two pistols and nothing else.

"We should raid a small-arms locker first, see if we can find some bullet-proof vests, ammunition, machine guns... whatever might come in handy. And then... maybe we can find someone else; either we get information or we raise our number."

John nodded, his gesture going unseen as Elena fixed her eyes on the door.

"Right."

He finished doing up his belt and pulled on his dark grey tank top then moved over beside her. Looking over at her, he saw someone much calmer and more collected than he felt.

He tried to look confident as well, but didn't believe it himself. If there were Cylons on the ship then they could all be dead at any second. Toasters would probably try to either blow the ship or suck all the atmosphere out into space.. and there was no knowing how many there were or how long they'd been there. Death could be lurking just around the next corner.

"Ready?" he asked.

She slightly turned her head. No matter how hard he tried to look cool, she could feel his tension, even if she was barely able to see it. And probably at this point, Elena made her third great mistake in the row she'd started: She leaned in, following the stream of warm air back to its source, and gave him a kiss. She could tell that he was both surprised and pleased.

"Here. Keep that in mind. There's at least one thing to live for other than fighting." She raised the corner of her mouth.

Elena hadn't really given it a second thought. She just did something she had learned a long time ago, something she was good at: Playing sex to ease the tension. It just felt right now and then, as if it was part of her instinct. There was just one flaw in that behavior: She never cared enough about the consequences.

"Let's go."

Ethan shot up out of his rack at the sound of banging on his hatch and another sound that he couldn't quite place. Shaking his head to rid himself the haze of sleep, Ethan swung his legs over the bed, being careful not to wake Samantha and Alexandra, and stood up. Reaching over to the nightstand, Ethan grabbed the pair of blue duty uniform pants and put them on.

The unknown noise in the background repeated and Ethan suddenly froze. "Those are gunshots," he said out loud. Getting up, he walked quickly to the door and opened it just as the marines outside hammered at it again.

"Sir, there's something going on," said one of the three marines. An obvious look of fear passed through his face.

Ethan nodded his head. "Obviously," Ethan said as he looked down the hallway. "Is it just the three of you?"

The marine furthest from him shook his head. "No sir. Sanders went to go see what the frak is going on. He still hasn't come back."

"Alright," Ethan said. "Hold here." Turning around, Ethan moved quickly to his bed and shook Samantha awake.

Samantha rolled over and stretched a little as Alex rolled out of her light grip. "What's the matter?" she asked with a yawn.

"Something is going on," Ethan said seriously. "We have to move, now."

Samantha's eyes shot open at the serious tone in Ethan's voice, knowing he only talks like that if something was really wrong. "Do you know what's happening?" she asked as she started getting out of the bed. Outside the door, more gunshots sounded in the distance. This time closer.

"I don't know. I think we've been boarded. It wouldn't surprise me considering the state of the ship," Ethan said as he bent down and picked up his daughter.

"Daddy," Alex muttered as she snuggled closer to into the crook of Ethan's neck.

When Samantha was out of bed and decent, Ethan handed Alex to her. "Here, take Alex and wait by the door." When Alex was safely in Samantha's arms, Ethan moved quickly to his desk and opened up the bottom drawer.

Reaching in, Ethan took out a standard, Colonial issued pistol and holster. Putting on the tanks hanging on the back of his desk chair, Ethan buckled the holster around his waste and moved towards Samantha and Alexandra. He kissed both of them on the foreheads before opening up the door to the hallway.

Ethan glanced out and saw the three marines hugging the walls and pointing their rifles down the hallway. Drawing his firearm, Ethan moved to the far wall, and moved behind the marine. "Corporal," Ethan said in greeting. "I want you to take my wife and daughter and escort them to lifestation."

"Lifestation?" Samantha asked from the doorway.

"Sir?"

Ethan jerked his head behind him. "It's away from the gunshots and it's probably the most secure part of the ship at the moment," Ethan said as he looked at Samantha. He could tell from the look on her face that she wanted to aid in the defense of the ship. After all, she was once a Viper pilot.

"Yes sir."

Nodding his head, Ethan moved to the other side of the hallway quickly and kissed Samantha on the lips. "Go with the Corporal," Ethan said after he removed his lips. "He'll keep you safe."

"What about you?"

Ethan smiled. "I'll be heading towards the gunfire."

Looking down at their daughter, Ethan kissed her on the forehead again and looked Samantha in the eyes. "I love you," he said.

Turning around, Ethan nodded at the Corporal. "Go, we'll cover you." Without looking over his shoulder to watch his future wife and daughter go, Ethan pointed his firearm down the hallway and concentrated on the intersection ahead of him.

Glancing over his shoulder, Ethan checked to make sure Samantha and Alexandra had cleared the hallway, and nodded at one of the marines. "Alright, lets go," he said as he started to move down the hallway, towards the increasing gunfire.

Cavil sat at his desk in the dark room that served as his office. It had been good to him in the very little time he had occupied it, even if the people in it with him were not always acting the way he would have liked. The Cylon transponder glowed faintly beneath his desk, illuminating his legs with a pale red light.

The sounds of gunfire had begun several minutes ago, and he did not doubt that soon the Centurions would begin venting chambers of the ship - perhaps even his. He was prepared for that, if it happened. Better to die than to keep living amongst the humans.

The phone beside him rang and, for a moment, he considered not answering. The stronger part of him wanted to let it ring, sit back, smoke a cigar, and wait for the inevitable end. The more reasonable part, though, told him never to take a chance. The humans had pulled off a miraculous escape once or twice before and if the ship did somehow survive, he couldn't risk being discovered. Certainly a ship's Commander doing nothing to save the crew during a boarding attack would constitute an oddity of character (to say the least).

"Cavil," he said, sleepily. "Sitrep."

"Sir.." it was Ream. He sounded nervous. Cavil was not surprised.

"What is it, son?"

"Uh.. Well.. I'm not sure, sir, but reports are coming in from all over the ship of Centurions aboard. We received a broken transmission from what sounded like Corporal Tyson a few minutes ago. It sounded... Sir, it sounded like he was shot."

"Thank you for alerting me," said Cavil, doing his best to sound genuinely surprised. "Can we contact any other parts of the ship yet to warn them?"

"No," said Ream. "Only outgoing calls we can make are to Sickbay and you. All other calls must be incoming and from a hand-powered phone."

Cavil nodded, despite the fact that he could not be seen. An odd human trait he'd never bothered to work out of his programming.

"Right. Is my acting XO there?"

There was a pause.

"Yes sir, but she's busy managing the Damage Control Console. Should I get her anyways?"

"No. No, the best thing for you to do right now is keep track of the Centurions as best you can as people report in. Send some marines around the ship to collect as much information as possible and report back to you. Relay this information here or, if I'm no longer in my office, to Major Woods. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Good..." now it was Cavil who paused. "Send a team to Auxiliary Fire Control. The Centurions will be heading there."

"Sir?"

"I've studied their tactics from the first war. If they're at all the same now as they were then, I imagine they'll head for Auxiliary Fire Control first. They'll try to overload the ships weapons, cause massive decompressions along our spine and belly. We can't let that happen."

"Right, sir. I'll dispatch a team ASAP."

"Get to it."

The Commander hung the phone back up with a weary shrug. He felt his old muscles complaining and wished he'd been given a more everlasting body.

"Metal might be nice," he chimed.

Standing up and moving away from the desk, he walked over to the door and swung it open. The marines stationed out front had left several minutes before the gunfire had begun, their shifts being over. The marines meant to replace them had never shown up.

Reaching into his holster, he removed the standard pistol he carried with him at all times. Colonial protocol. He gently pulled the safety switch off. Then he removed the Colonel's sidearm from his inner jacket pocket, flicked off the safety on that one as well.

"Well," he said. "This ought to be interesting..."

And he plunged into the mad darkness all around him.

Tracey walked carefully down the dim hallway towards what she hoped was, indeed, the nearest mazagine. After finally getting a hold of her self and parting from Elena, she had headed for the Starboard Flight Deck. It had been flooded with black curling smoke that billowed out as soon as the hatch had been opened, filling the hallway with a darkness even more impenetrable than the one already enveloping her.

There were still people left inside and, cursing herself for spending so much time selfishly indulged in crying over the past, she had rushed in to join the rescue effort. Not many people made it out and those that did were usually seriously injured. She had completed one final sweep with the ragtag team that had formed in the hangar bay before sealing the room up. Anyone who was left in there was either already dead or completely beyond help and everyone knew that leaving the door open any longer would only continue to fuel the fire within.

With the deck sealed, it could be vented and the fire extinguished. The entire time, she had been reciting the mantras of Colonial procedure. It was the right thing to do according to protocol, she knew, but it still felt so very wrong.

After helping attend to the wounded as best they could, everyone still in the area had headed for sick bay in search of some sort of respite. Everyone except for Tracey. She had headed for the Port Flight Pod, knowing that she wouldn't be able to rest until she'd made sure everyone there was safe as well. Quickly she had found herself lost in a horrifying maze of all-encompassing darkness with no end in sight.

She had searched endlessly for some sign of life- another person, a flashlight swinging down around the next bend, anything. All she had found was a broken walkie talkie and an empty handgun surrounded by ammunition casings. She had taken the latter and decided to arm herself and then head back to the flight deck. Her people were there and they needed her now more than ever.

Along the way she had heard the sound of gunfire and the clanks of heavy machinery. The rate of fire hadn't sounded like anything she'd heard before except in old war movies. The Cylons had been advancing on 'outdated' human weaponry, making it faster, lighter, better in virtually every way. If it was the Cylons on board, then it certainly sounded like they had succeeded.

Now she walked along as quietly as possible, her own sidearm raised high in front of her. Her arm had begun to wobble with fatigue and fear as she moved along.

"Wish you were here," she whispered, thinking of Elena. Really, anyone would have been welcome company, but the image of the moment she'd shared with the CAG kept filling her mind. It was a ray of hope in the dreary blackness that filled her vision and her heart.

As she neared the mazagine, the sounds of gunfire grew ever closer...

22:05


"Cross the wrists, a flashlight in one hand, the pistol in the other. That gives you both maximum stability and sight."

That's what they were told during basic combat. That's what they were doing in movies. And that was exactly what Elena did, too. While she lighted the corridor up ahead, ready to shoot, she wondered what the Cylons would look like. If they would be armored. How good their sensoric abilities were. And how many of them were around, slaughtering the crewmembers unlucky enough to cross their paths.

And then, at the sound of gunfire awfully close, maybe just one deck above or below, she started wondering who was dead by now and who might still be alive...

"Frak me," said John, cutting into Elena's thoughts. "Is it just me or are they getting closer?"

He wiped the sweat that beaded on his forehead with his wrist and swallowed hard. His throat hurt from the stress and it felt like he were trying to swallow nails.

Elena gave no response.

Probably the smart thing to do.. thought John. Shut the frak up, don't give away your position...

The two had left The CAG's quarters and turned left, towards aft. They knew that there was a small arms locker at the end of this hallway. It probably would have been smarter to head straight for CIC, sickbay or the hangar deck, the, most likely, well protected gathering points. But Elena took point, went this way because it was closer and Nagala didn't complain. Who would have thought that, of all people, he'd be the one covering my back now?

Her ears told her that she heard something. It sounded somebody was stomping hard on the floor. Or maybe not someone but something...

She shut her flashlight off and clicked her safety audibly on and off again, to get John's attention and make him do the same.

As he turned off the safety, he turned his head to look at Elena. Only an hour before he had been completely without concern about the Cylons. Now his expression conveyed just how sorry he was that he had let them slip through the cracks.

She returned his look with a little worry but then aimed for the corner and listened closely. The gunfire drowned most of the following steps. But when there eventually came a figure around it, it came clear that it wasn't mechanical. Or maybe just less stiff than the machines she remembered from the museum. But she was not able to make out any features.

So, not letting her guard down, without putting her flashlight on, she said loudly, so that it would echo through the corridor and make it hard to spot her: "Identify yourself!"

Alex came to a halt as he heard the familiar woman’s voice. Knowing that the Cylon’s were mechanical he called out to the voice.

”This is Ensign Sola, Tactical officer. Who’s there?”

Alex didn’t make any moves for fear of taking fire, The sounds of gunfire getting closer every minute.

She lowered her gun, letting a good part of her strain go.

"Captain Vance, CAG."

Elena turned her flashlight on, took a look at Sola, recognizing him, then showed herself and John, who relaxed visibly as the light came on and revealed a very human Sola standing in the hallway, rather than the deadly Centurion he'd been expecting.

Seeing the CAG and a pilot standing in the hall way showed that at least there were people still alive on this deck.

”You need something better then those pee shooters against these things. Rifles and explosive rounds are all that seem to stop them. I just came from the Weapons locker back that way. Where I got all this. There is still equipment left there.”

John turned to Elena and said,"We should probably head there. See if we can get some explosive rounds. I don't want to run into these things with nothing but this pistol."

"That's why we were headed there."

I don't think that the pistol's too useless, though. Easy to load an explosive round into it. As easy as with the rifle. And if these standard bullets won't break through the hull of a Centurion, then neither would those of a rifle... Guess, spending a little time with those marines during flight school pays off.

Alex raised the rifle and turned hearing more gun fire. Hoping that his next beam of light wouldn’t hit a Cylon he turned back to the CAG.

”Orders Sir?”

This question forced her to think ahead. Up until now, she had just looked ahead as far as she was able to see in the near-darkness. She shot a glance at Nagala again. And wasn't too sure about her 'plan' anymore.

"Um... Let's get to the armory first."

Alex merely nodded.

"Right.. Uh.. Following you, Ice."

Carefully but fast, they crossed the last distance, opened the hatch and found themselves at the gate to a literal paradise of weaponry, with pistols, rifles, all kinds of ammunition, explosives and grenades. Also a small locker in the back, with armored vests and helmets. Some of the boxes were open, some of their interiors gone, but there was still enough left to fully outfit a platoon.

"Alright, clearance sale. All you can carry."

She went to the back, took an armored vest and put it on.

“Best to take explosive rounds and heavy rifles. Seems to work best according to reports.”

Alex stated as he pilled on more ammo, slung an extra rifle on his back, strapping on an extra leg holster and filling his vest pockets with as many explosive rounds as he could.

"Those reports are from forty years ago," said John as he rummaged through stacks of ammunition, looking for any explosive rounds hiding out of plain sight.

"Who says the Cylons haven't built themselves bodies that are impervius to gunfire. For all we know they're built like tanks now!"

"Well, in that case, you can either try to get a good shot or hide behind my back."

John scowled, prepared to shoot off some smart-ass comment, decided it was best to keep it to himself.

Elena took two pistols, both with laser-guides, replacing her previous one, loaded it with both standard ammunition and explosive round and smiled to herself when she looked at the two sidearm in her hands before placing them in their holsters. She had already filled every of her pocket with reserve magazines and rounds, even a handful of grenades. She considered taking a rifle aswell but knew that it would be too cumbersome to carry. And she was still well equipped without it.

Watching the CAG arm herself, Alex couldn’t help but notice the grace in which she adorned herself in the weapons of war.

”What’s the plan of action then?”

"Well, uh... We...", she sighed and looked awkwardly.

"I don't... really have orders for you. What I want to do is... most likely suicidal. And I won't force you to follow me."

John looked over at her, saw the determination on her face and scoffed quietly. Nobody seemed to take notice at it.

Knowing that any plan at this point would be suicidal which ever way they went, Alex merely picked up his second rifle and cocked it.

”Suicidal or not, we have a duty to take down these frakkers. Better as a group, then individually.”

"You can go to the flight deck, CIC, sickbay... Each of it will probably be safe. Just I... I can't go someplace and wait for things to turn out well. I'm the CAG, I've got responsibility to take. More than you. And I can't wait for a marine fireteam to miraculously show up. The Cylons could have come from everywhere, could have killed most of our marines while they were asleep. So, I'll head for the gunfire and look if I can take them some of them out. Alone, if I have to. That won't keep me from going."

"Are you frakking kidding me? There's only one reason I've stuck around in this sorry excuse for a military as long as I have: and that's killing toasters... I'm with you no matter what, Elena."

A grin spread across her face.

"See? That's what I meant by suicidal."

The grin faded again. Even in the twilight, she couldn't hide all traces of concern. You had to look closely, though, deep into her eyes.

"And that's why I won't force you. I won't give you an order. It's all up to you."

She looked back and forth between them. But when she had several times, her gaze fixed on John. And her thoughts wandered back an hour or so, while she gave them time to think.

John just stared back. She knew his intentions. She was all he had left now, and he wasn't about to lose her: not to some Cylon prowling in the darkness. If she was going to die that night, then so was he.

”When do we leave?”

Alex stood still, not as a colonial officer, not even a marine, but a warrior of the Colonies, fighting this battle as if it was for the 12 colonies themselves.

"Right now", Elena said and started to grin again. It wasn't merry it all. It was just easier than looking concerned. And it somewhat felt good to have to men with her that were as crazy as she was.

But when they left the small arms locker, looking down a corridor that would have led to the safety of the flight deck, she couldn't but think about the Chief and wonder, if she was safe. No matter where she is, she'll be a lot safer than you. Some of her worry remained, though...

Ethan moved quickly down the hallway as he and the other two marines behind him hugged the wall closely. Stopping suddenly at an intersection, Ethan peaked around the corner before crossing the intersection and continuing down the hallway.

"Sir, where are we going?" one of the marines behind him asked.

Stopping at the next corner, Ethan turned and looked over his shoulder. "Unless I'm mistaken, which I'm not, there's an arms locker at the end of this hallway here," Ethan said as he nodded his head towards the intersection. "While there, we'll pick up some more weapons and ammunition. Hopefully we'll bump into a few more marines and figure out what the frak is going on."

The marine furthest from him nodded his head in understanding, while the more nervous looking marine looked up and down the hallway as if a Cylon was about to jump out and blast them all to Hades. "What if we run into Cylons sir?"

Ethan smirked as he turned and looked down the corridor, sure enough at the end there was a door labeled 'Armory A5.' "Well then, we'll just have to blow them to high hell and keep moving," he responded turning back to the marines. "Alright, the armory is down there. Let's move."

Keeping his sidearm pointed down the hallway, Ethan moved towards the armory door and stopped at the intersection in front of the door. Taking a look down both hallways, Ethan found them void of movement and crossed into the armory. Opening the door, Ethan sighed in relief as he found a room filled with weapons and ammunition.

Holstering his pistol, he moved forward and opened up a case containing explosive rounds. "Take what you can," Ethan said as he opened up several more boxes of ammunition. He walked towards the far wall and took a bulletproof vest hanging off the rack. "Even the explosive rounds. We might need-"

Ethan stopped suddenly as the bulkhead door opened. In no time, Ethan had his pistol drawn, pointed at the door. The other marines did the same with their rifles.

"What the frak's got you all jumpy?" Staley said as he entered the room to see multiple guns aimed at him.

He reach into his pocket for his cigarettes shuffled one to the top, removed it with his mouth and lit it up.

"Is this how the recruits treat senior officers?" Staley baded. "So you are the new recruits, We have one rule on this ship. Everybody fights. Nobody quits. You don't like it, sign the fraking 1248, pack your shit and go home."

Staley began to walk amongst the marines eying them up as he went.

"I am Marine Executive Officer Staley. You will not laugh you will not cry, you will learn by the numbers, I will teach you. I will teach you the skills you need to survive. This is war. A war in which the strong survive and the weak die. Do you maggots understand?"

"Sir yes sir!" The marines chanted back.

"Welcome to the Battlestar Rhea." Staley called back.

Ethan raised an eyebrow and holstered his sidearm. Not giving the man or his companion a second glance, he picked up a rifle and slung it over his shoulder. "Instead of scaring the new recruits and giving them a dress down, how about you grab some gear," Ethan said to the marine, making his presence known.

Grabbing several explosive rounds and sticking them in the ammo pouches, Ethan turned and gave the silent marine that just walked in a look. "And what's your name marine?"

"My name? Master Sergeant James Mackenzie, Master-at-arms here, sir." he eyed Ethan carefully, awaiting his response.

"Well Master Sergeant James Mackenzie," Ethan said walking over to the entrance and opening it slightly to peak outside. "Why don't you gear up instead of standing around like a bloody statue."

"Aye, sir." James saluted smartly and turned to round up his gang. Wonder what the hell is going on, they tell us nothin' he thought.

As he leaned against the frame of the bulkhead door, Ethan opened the mass of metal and took a peek outside. Seeing nothing but the dull red glow of the emergency overhead lights, he shut the bulkhead door again and turned to face the marines.

"Alright," he said leaning his rifle onto the wall. "Here's the sitrep."

"The Rhea has been boarded. We don't know who they are or how many of them have boarded. But I think it's safe to assume that it's the Cylons."

"Marines. Our enemy is cunning and ruthless. Shoot to kill. Head and chest shots only." Staley said checking his .454 Casual "Fit yourself with F2 Loadouts."

"Sir yes sir!" the marines called back.

Nodding his head at the enthusiasm of the group of Marines, Ethan slung the his rifle around and opened up the bulkhead door once again. [color=steelblue]"We're going to move and secure Aft Damage Control first," he said softly over his shoulder. Nodding his head at the marines, he moved.

After peeking his head out the door to check and make sure that one side of the the hallway was clear, Ethan turned around and pointed his rifle down the other end of the hallway as he started heading towards the aft section of the ship.

Graff was heading back to his bunk, ambrosia bottle under his arm. He'd just walked into the rec room and taken it, no one stopped him, no one even looked at him, they were all wallowing in their grief, some sobbing, others staring blankly at the wall. He didnt want to end up like that.
The doc wouldnt give him any painkillers, said he'd have to keep him under observation if he did. Prolly afraid I'll kill myself. Cant say I blame him, but I can get a gun for that, the corner of his mouth twitched in an attempted smile.

As he rounded a corner, something bumped into him hard and knocked him over. The pain from his ribs shot through the rest of his body like an electric current and he clenched his fist and punched the deck a couple of times before he could even breathe again.
As he got back up, Graff looked around for someone to spew his cusses at. A young woman stood opposite him, also pushing herself on her feet, her face and clothes sprayed with what looked like blood.

"Oh please tell me thats not blood." Graff said nervously.
At first she didnt even respond, just stared down the hallway she came from, then finally turned back towards him.
"It is blood," her cold voice surprised Graff, it didnt match the frightened look in her eyes at all. "And we need to get the hell outta here before the toasters catch up."
Graff nodded half-heartedly and started running after her, down the corridor opposite to where she came from. His mind started racing as well, both trying to cope with the fact that the cylons had found them and it was all probably over, and to picture where they were and what they were heading for.
"This is no good," he finally spoke up. "We're right between the toasters and aft damage control."
"So?" She snapped back.
"So thats where they're heading, thats where everybody's heading, thats where the fight's gonna be.. and all we've got is a pea-shooter and a bottle."
"Why aft damage control though?" She looked at him curiously.
"Because you can vent the whole ship from there, my dad told me thats what cylons did when they boarded a ship. If toasters get to it we'll all be breathing vacuum.."
"What? Who the frak designs these things?"
"Eh, same people who design intelligent, genocidal robots. We're a pretty suicidal species it seems." He concluded, before leaning against a wall and peering around the corner, at the same time signaling her to stop. He couldnt see anything, but he distinctly heard gunshots and screams from that direction. "We'll talk later, for now keep your voice down and stay behind cover."
Soon, they were on the move again, shadowing the walls as much as possible and attempting to stay out of sight.

22:15


Blood. There was no need for normal lighting. The pattern on the wall was unique, speckled with pieces of bone and brain. Nobody would doubt that it was cerebral matter. A dead marine with hole in his head was lying in front of it, eyes still open in shock, the rifle in his hand still on safety.

"So much for armored vests", Elena murmured while knealing down to him and closing his eyes. Even though she barely saw anything, it was easy to notice that the bullet in his head hadn't been the only one. Rapid fire, no doubt. Where it hit him directly, the vest had kept him safe, but at the sides, with an angle, it was ripped to shreds. The kinetic energy of the gun responsible for this had to be incredible.

"Gods," whispered John, sullenly. He noticed the expression on Sola's face matching his own feelings. "This is happening all over the ship..."

She stood up again and lid down the hallway in front of them.

"I wonder where the frak they are heading...", she started thinking out loud and walking at the same time. "The Cylons got to have a plan of some kind. I mean, we always hear the gunfire up ahead, either below or above us. But what do they want here? Blow the engines up or-"

Elena stopped suddenly and her two followers almost ran into her. She had raised one of her hands, as if she wanted them to be quiet.

"What the hell is this sound?"

At first, they didn't hear anything. But when they all held their breaths, there it was: A faint beep, repeating itself over and over again. And if you watched closely, there was a small red light, appearing and disappearing in perfect unison with the beep.

The Captain's voice was a groan of disbelief, instead of fear or shock:
"Oh Gods, please, no..."

Alex just looked at the other two, as the tension of what they had walked into set in.

As if their voices, even their remote presence had triggered something, the beep and light slightly changed rhythm, speeding up.

"Uhh..."

"Run" was everything she said before turning about and sprinting down the corridor they came.

"My thoughts exactly!" said John, running after Elena as fast as his legs would carry him down the dimly lit corridor in search of some sort of cover.

And it was than that Elena realized that there actually was some kind of slow motion. She looked around and took everything in, her head and thoughts worked fast and clear. And she wondered why the hell she was running farther away instead of seeking shelter immediately. And she corrected her mistake immediately.

"In here!", she yelled over her shoulder while jumping at the next manually operated hatch and opening it with swift, precise movements. It was pitch black inside but she didn't care.

Nagala stopped, turned around in time to see Elena ducking in through the open hatch. Sola was fast on her heels, moving in to the dark room. With nowhere else to go, John leapt through the hatch and rolled hard on the deck. He turned up just in time to see Elena still by the door, grabbing the door's latch.

Once they were past her, she followed quickly, closing the hatch-
Halfway in, the charge detonated. The shockwave followed up almost instantly. It literally threw the bulkhead shut and her through the room, giving her a close-up of the opposite wall, knocking her out.
Apart from this, they were miraculously safe though. The hatch was sealed automatically behind them, showing one thing clearly: The corridor had been decompressed. They wouldn't leave that way.

Alex had managed to get through the hatch and hold on as the explosion hit the hatch. He saw Elena head towards the wall and hit it. Running towards her, Alex managed to just reach the cargo containers when the ship rocked again. ”Probably another bomb” Alex thought, Before he hit his head on the corner of the cargo container and the world faded to black.


This JP written by:
Elena Vance
Alexander Sola
John Nagala