Commander Adama readied himself as the raptor slowed its acceleration and kicked on its reaction control thrusters bucked its nose slightly starboard. He stood up and saw the streams of gas blow out form the nose of the raptor, pushing it down. And there, through the raptor's canopy, he saw Galactica.

And she was broken.

"Gods damn," he whispered, so low no one could hear. But if the pilots had turned and looked him in the eye they'd have seen his anguish as his eyes ran slowly and meticulously across the broken body of the stories battlestar. Galactica.

Her topside guns were ripped to pieces. Large gashes and tears were everywhere on her hull. What could only be described as a canyon on her topside ran from stem to amidships. Her flight pod was still smoldering nearly half a day after the battle. The letters 'a', 'ct' and the last 'a' on her intact pod were missing. Galactica's bottom side port engine was dark and badly damaged.

We'll get you home yet, he promised her. We owe you that much, old girl. They owed her much more.

"We're coming in, sir," the pilot reported. Adama heard him mutter a curse under his breath at the site.

The raptor approached and pulled around. As the nimble little transport slowed he could see hundreds of men and women in space suits working on the hull. Utility shuttles were hard at work laying down emergency armor plating over critical sections of the hull. A section near the exchange matrices was still glowing orange from goa'uld plasma bombs.

He could tell the crew was exhausted. And as the raptor touched down with a slight jolt he saw a group from half a dozen different warships moving out with a smaller group from Galactica, a sled in tow, and transition through a portal to the outer hull of the pod.

While Galactica was in ruins her bays were largely functional and the ship's crew focused on repairs. Adama hopped out of his raptor with only a short delay between the elevator and a crewman moving the raptor to an unloading zone. His pilots opened the hatch and he could hear the clangs, the noises of a flight deck and the controlled chaos as many hundreds of men and women worked in unison.

"Frak," the pilot said, looking at the damage wrought within the bay. "They'll need these parts." Valkyrie had sent over precious computer parts; CPUs, new hard drives, and equipment to try and get Galactica's drive operational.

Adama stepped out and shielded his eyes. Large emergency lights were shining up towards the upper rack of vipers, which were mangled and bent. A viper had been violently shaken from its battle locks and was nose first into the deck, its ass pointing straight at the overhead. Crews were trying to either secure it against the bulkhead or move it.

He could see a dozen bays down that four vipers and a raptor were basically all smashed into a viper storage bay by the bay's dozers. They'd be moved to an elevator where a zero-gee dozer would push them out the pod before they jumped.

Adama let out a small sigh. He walked towards the end of the winglet and stopped. A haggard looking young man in a mangled uniform and Marine escort were there to greet him. He jumped down.

"Captain Aaron Kelly, sir," the dirtied and bloodied man said with a precise and sharp salute. His uniform top was off and he wore only the gray and tan tank tops. The gray tank was torn on the side.

Adama returned the crisp salute. "Captain."

"Sir," Kelly nodded, "it's good to have you aboard. We all know your history with the old girl." Kelly took keys from his pockets. "We're all glad to have you commanding Galactica until we can get home." He held the keys out. "The nuke keys, sir, for the ship's CO."

"Thank you, captain." He took the keys and placed them around his neck. He walked forward and motioned for Kelly to follow. "Give me a SITREP."

Kelly took out a comp sheet and unfolded it. He handed it over. "We lost nearly fifteen hundred and with another thousand wounded to various degrees we're short on manpower. Most of those have been taken over to the medstars. We're hurtin'. Most of our engineers were killed when a plasma bomb hit the engine room…" Kelly swallowed. "Galactica has most of her systems shot, few guns are working, networks are down, and life support isn't operational in a quarter of the ship. Lost a lot of good people…" he said quietly. He stopped.

Commander Adama put a hand on the captain's shoulder. "The men and women here fought bravely, captain." Kelly nodded. "Are you the-"

"I'm the senior sur-… the current senior CIC officer, sir. Major Spenser is currently the senior-most pilot on Galactica and heading DC." Adama could see a glassy look in his eyes. Then Kelly snapped back. "Chief!"

Adama turned. The man Kelly had yelled at had his back to him. A group of young knuckle draggers, about a dozen of them in orange jumpsuits with tired and exhausted expressions were listening to him with focus. The chief held up a finger to tell Kelly to give him one. He started pointing. The commander nodded to himself. The chief was getting things done.

The chief turned and did a double take. Adama could see a small crack of a grin under the heavy five o'clock shadow on the man. "Commander Adama?" He walked up. "Sir." He saluted.

"It's good to see you again, chief," the commander said, extending a hand. The chief grasped it hard and left some grimy residue. Adama wiped it off inside a trouser pocket.

Kelly looked surprised. "You know each other?"

"Galen Tyrol here," Adama said, half-turning towards Kelly, "when he was a petty officer and I was still flying vipers, was my viper mechanic on Atlantia. He kept my Mark IV running like it was fresh off the lines. We were both a lot younger then."

"Yes, sir." Tyrol replied. He was smiling. But it quickly faded to a grim and dim expression. "She's seen better days, hasn't she?"

Adama looked around and slowly nodded. "That she has." His voice was low and gravely. "We'll get her back to the Colonies yet. There's too much history for us to…" he trailed off. He didn't want to say it. I won't, he thought.

They had a deadline. If they couldn't get the FTLs operational two nukes would be detonated within her: one in the engineering compartment at the FTL core and another in CIC. There was no way to get her back to the Colonies without FTLs, and there was no way in hell Nagala was prepared to just leave her for the goa'uld to pick apart. And with the wild card that'd been thrown down with the Cylons they needed to make it back to Eluuria and the Colonies ASA-fraking-P.

Damage control was 'get it working now; we'll get it all better later'.

A deck hand ran up to the chief and handed him a tablet. He scrolled through it quickly and scowled. "Gods, frak it." He hit his free backhand on the tablet. Then he suddenly remembered who was in front of him. "Oh, um, sorry, commander."

"What's wrong?"

"We're losing systems all over the ship. They're working fine one moment and then the next, gone." He scrolled through. "You know what… these are all focused on a node… huh… odd, it shouldn't be… but… I've got a raptor filled to the brim at the auxiliary landing bay that's gonna take hours to offload unless we get a move on…"

Adama chuckled. He'd seen Petty Officer Tyrol space out when presented with a problem. The man was an engineering genius, easily on par with some of the Fleet Academy educated, doctorate-level engineers being assigned to some of the more prestigious battlestars. Adama had no doubt the chief could get a teaching position at the Academy or viper maintenance school if he wanted it. But… "I'll leave you to it, chief. Get this old girl fixed so we can get her back to the Colonies, give her a proper homecoming."

Chief Tyrol looked up. His eyes were sharp, focused, and there was determination behind them. Adama saw the devotion in his face, the way he'd straightened up. "Aye, aye sir. We'll get this old girl home."

The commander nodded and started walking towards the ladders for the upper decks of the bay. "Captain, I'll head to CIC. We have twelve hours, fifteen at the absolute most, to get this ship running and her FTLs repaired." He stepped up the first rung, leading the captain. He stopped and looked back. "We'll get it done."

The captain looked up. Adama could see he was exhausted but underneath there was that grim determination to see this mighty old lady back to her berthing above Caprica. "Damn right, sir."

Ensign Kara Thrace cursed as the wrench slipped and jammed her hand. "Fraking gods damnit!" She shook her injured hand and sucked on the cut. "Fraking bullshit." She kicked the wrench and it went flying into the side of the viper bay. "This isn't my fraking job to do." She threw her hands on her hips and turned around, starting to walk off.

"Ensign. Where are you going?"

"To get into a suit, Catman. I'm a viper pilot. Not a gods' damned knuckle dragger." She rolled her eyes. "The damn snakes could hit us, and they need pilots out there."

Lt. George Birch, dirtied and grimey like everyone else on Galactica stood up and shoved his own tools into the pockets of his filth-covered utility uniform. He rubbed sweat and grit off his brow and its stained his green utility sleeve. "Listen, ensign, you're here to do a job. And Dipper wants us fixing these vipers so the knuckle draggers can fix the gods damned ship." He leaned in closer to her. "Understand?"

There was a snort. "I don't think princess wants to get her hands all dirty."

Thrace's eyes went wide. She was livid. She barreled passed Catman. "What the frak did you say?"

The other woman stopped what she was doing.

"Showboat, don't get involved in this," Catman urged, holding up his hand. He kept his eyes on Thrace. The situation was spiraling out of control, and fast.

"I said you're just a little nugget pilot who thinks she hot shit after one battle, that's she better than everyone else. I saw your stunt. You're in it for yourself. You're a danger, Thrace. You're going to get people killed. You're gonna get my friends killed." She walked forward a step. "And I won't let you."

Thrace sneered at Lt. Maria Case. She pointed and Catman put a hand on her chest to hold her back. "Real tough," Kara responded in a mocking tone. "Remind me, how many more kills did I get than you? Your viper gets a little ding and you bugged out back to Galactica you coward-"

"Hey!" Catman yelled as Showboat roared a "Frak you!"

And it was on. Showboat and Thrace lunged at each other. Catman was caught in the middle as the two hot-headed pilots came into contact with a force of personalities that could tank battlestars and end civilizations. Kara rammed her shoulder into Showboat as she ducked a punched, and both pilots hit the deck.

Catman was on the deck after being pushed aside and stumbling on gear.

Showboat threw up an elbow which hit Thrace in the face and knocked her off. Someone cursed and they both lunged again.

Showboat got in a second punch which slid off Kara's chest as she came in at an angle. Kara gut punched Showboat which cause her to almost bend in two before a quick knee to Kara's ass forced her forward and almost face planted her into the deck. Showboat gave another punch to Kara's side.

Then hands were wrapping around the both of them. Pairs of hands were pulling Kara up and off Showboat while others were yanking her back and away. Showboat was kicking while Kara was trying to punch. Both were out of reach of the other and screaming furious.

But the futility of trying to hit each other didn't dawn on them at first. They both tried a few more kicks and punches.

Major Jack 'Dipper' Spenser had almost appeared from nowhere in the few seconds the fight had been going on. He was one of the pilots gripping Starbuck, who struggled against kept struggling against his grip but he was too strong for her and held her back. She lunged again and he shoved her against the bulkhead. The wind got knocked out of her.

"You two fraking done!" He screamed with his head on a swivel and his eyes searing each one with judgment and disappointment. Half the deck crews were staring at the two pilots. He had a finger in Thrace's face. "You're done!"

Kara barred her teeth. "She-"

"I don't give a frak!" He leaned forward. "Shut up." Dipper pointed to Showboat and then pointed firmly at the deck next to Thrace. Showboat shoved her shoulder out of Catman's grip and pushed back hair that had been knocked free from the fight. She stood away from Thrace but Spenser had them close enough to make her and Thrace uncomfortable. "I have two of my pilots fighting when many of our friends are dead?" His whisper was filled with anger. "Are you two out of your fraking minds? The unprofessional…"

"Sir-"

"Stuff it." He held up his finger at Showboat. "You. I'll talk to later. Go to med bay three and get cleaned up. Then report back here for DC. You're going to med bay five, Thrace."

Showboat and Thrace exchanged sneers and hated looks.

"Serves her right," Thrace commented with a smile. She saw Dipper look at her, with those cold and steely eyes and felt small. She tried to not do it, but she swallowed. Dipper leaned in closer to her. Catman was there. Others were there, too. She knew they'd hear the chewing out she got.

"I know you think you're the best thing to happen to this ship, Thrace. Your scores are off the charts and you think you're the best viper pilot here. You're still a gods damned nugget, despite your kill count. You think that matters now? We're a crew, we work together, which means we do things we don't always like to do if we have to. To survive." He turned and then turned back. "And I saw the antics you pulled out there. You went for kills without your wingman, you ran dangerously low on ammo and fuel to get them.

"You're reckless. You think you're indestructible, that you could… run off on your own, take on a fraking star in your viper." He snorted.

Kara tapped her chest. "I got more kills than anyone on this boat. I should be out there just in case they come." And as if remember to add it in, she finished. "Sir."

Dipper was shaking his head. "You are trouble, ensign. How about that… you know what, Thrace? Since you're such hot shit and think you're indestructible, why don't we call you Starbuck… maybe you'll get some gods damned humility and learn you can't be a one woman squadron…" Dipper hummed a thought to himself. "Problem with that, Starbuck, is that, is that… you're gonna get someone killed before you learn that… and I pray to the gods it isn't going to be me."

"Dude, you know this is fraking bullshit." The lights flickered and something rattled at the end of the corridor. Pairs of crewmen were prodding along through the labyrinth of corridors in this behemoth battlestar.

"Prosna, cut your bitching."

"Prosna, cut your bitching," Crewman Mike Prosna said back in an annoying and mocking tone. "Prosna, cut your bitching." Socinus punched him in the arm. "That hurt, man. The frak?"

"Yeah well, it's gonna hurt a lot worse if the chief catches us jerking around with our cocks out. Hey, did you hear that Commander Adama came aboard?" He turned a corner and stopped at a hatch. Socinus put down his toolbox and grasped the handle with both hands and gave it a hard twist. It didn't budge.

"Oh, weak man," Prosna mocked as he gently pushed Socinus back with a hand on his chest. "Yeah, he's gonna replace Shelly for the trip back to the Colonies." He pretended to spit on his hands and rubbed them together.

"It's Commander Jordan, Dave."

Prosna shook his head and looked back over his shoulder. "She's dead. Why would she care? She's dead. Jim's dead. Lucy… George, John, Rose… do I have to go fraking on and on? Why do they care anymore? They're dead. They were my friends." He still had his hands on the wheel lock. "But they're dead."

"I know… just…" Socinus motioned at the hatch. Prosna sighed and turned it. He tried.

"You know," Prosna said thoughtfully, "I'm done with this."

"What do you mean?" Socinus asked as he tried the hatch again.

"I'm done. I'm leaving. When we get back to the anchorage, I'm leaving. I don't care if they say I'm A.W.A, I'm outta here."

"Dude… they'll find you. They don't let people just leave. Absent without authorization is a big time offense… especially during hostilities. They used to hang people for that."

Prosna huffed and shrugged his shoulder. He was leaning on the bulkhead without a care. "Whatever. There's dozens of worlds to hide on. Plenty of settlements that don't want anything to do with the central gov, plenty of places where I can live my life quietly. People don't like Caprica, man."

Socinus frowned towards the hatch and ignored his friend. He thought of a quick prayer to Ares for the patron war god to wash his friend's mind of such thoughts. He didn't want his friend to throw away his life for a decade in the brig. He smacked his lips and tried to distract Prosna with a friendly tap on the arm and a snap of his fingers.

"It's gotta be something on the other side. We've got O2 over there." He tapped the atmosphere gauges. Nothing out of the ordinary showed up. He pulled out a tablet. "That section should be good. We need to get there to fix the network lines or the chief will have our asses."

"Yes, I know, the chief told us that. I was there next to you." He tapped his foot, put this hands on his hips and sighed for a long, long few seconds. He did a backhand slap onto Socinus's chest to get his attention. "Come on, there's another hatch down the corridor."

Socinus sighed and picked up his tool box and handed Prosna an extra spool of data cabling. He didn't want to argue. Prosna had been pretty close with the rest of their deck gang and had grown close to them all during the last eighteen months. Socinus felt the loss, but had only known them since he'd transferred in over Eluuria a few weeks before they departed. They may not have been as close with him, but they were getting there. And they were my friends, too, he thought.

The two walked quietly. There were flickering lights and strange sounds. Socinus shivered and Prosna snickered at him and commented on his trepidation. 'It's battle damage' he'd said.

Still, for a nineteen and a half year old crewman who'd only been out of training schools for three months, it was a lot to take in. He'd never expected to be thrown into a battle with fraking freaky aliens with glow eyes and a god-complex so soon after enlisting and graduating boot.

"How do you think we did?" Socinus asked as he tried to break an uncomfortable silence and subconsciously distract himself from the creepiness of the abandoned corridors. "The battle…"

Prosna shrugged. "Dude, how should I know? Do you see admiral bars?" He flicked his collar. They turned the corridor and Prosna almost fell as his foot hit something. "Oh what the frak!" He regained his composure and sat on his heels. He grabbed the box. "Chief didn't say there were others working down here. Hey, David, raise 'em on wireless? It's…" he squinted, "Work detail Oh-Two-Gamma."

Socinus keyed up the wireless. Bzzzzz. "Nothing. Static."

The other man grabbed at it. "Gimmie." He went through the menu. He keyed it up. "Fraking interference screwing with this piece of junk… probably from some damage system putting out EM or something nearby." He shrugged and lazily handed it back. "I don't know." Socinus went to use one of the phones on the bulkhead. "Don't even try, they're all out on these decks," he told the younger crewmate. "These assholes shouldn't be leaving tools around." Prosna shook his head in judgment at the absentee DC work detail and the tools, tablet, and gear still left. A thermos of coffee was by the work area. "They'll get ripped a new one. Come on, let's go." He tapped Socinus in the chest and motioned for him to follow.

They walked quickly towards the next hatch. Again, Prosna tried to open it. "Frak me. Okay… one more…and if it doesn't work we'll go back up and radio in for some cutters…" he leaned back and looked left and right. "That way." He flicked his hand right and stepped off.

At the third hatch they met success. Socinus let out a sigh of complete relief. "Finally. I really didn't want to hike it back up." The trams were down; it'd take near half an hour to get back to DC for this section and back with cutting tools. "Now let's hope the interior hatches in the compartment aren't sealed."

They opened it up and stepped inside. It smelled musty and there was a hint of smoke. Their CO2 readers read at acceptable levels and none of the functioning alarms in this section were active. They were good to go. Socinus closed the hatch, hesitated about locking it, but decided to follow procedure and do it anyway.

Socinus was already out of the service portal at a T junction with hands on his hips. To starboard were ladders leading up a deck and to port was another corridor which rounded and obscured Socinus's vision after about twenty some-odd meters.

"Hey, Prosna, you hear that?" Socinus stopped walking. "Prosna?" He saw Prosna looking at something.

The crewman kneeled and took out a small wrench from his pocket. "What the frak is this… this can't be battle damage." He was sticking the wrench into something.

Socinus leaned forward and peered over Prosna's hunched form. "It's a hole."

"Yeah, but the bulkhead is melted, newbie. There's no heat source here to melt it and…" he got on his stomach and peered inside. "What the…" He got back up and had a surprised, confused look. "I don't know… take a look, it looks weird, like something's in there." He shrugged.

"What?" Socinus bent down and tried to look inside, but the tools he was still carrying were cumbersome. He stepped back and put them down. "You hear that?"

"Clattering… maybe something the other detail is working on? Hey! Anyone down here?" Prosna shouted towards the rounding corridor. He leaned a little bit to glance down, but couldn't see a thing other than a flickering light.

"Huh. Well, let me take a look. You old people get bad vision."

"I'm like, two years older than you, man."

Socinus snickered. "Ah huh." He kneeled down and went to all fours then kicked out. Something clicked inside the ductwork. "You heard that, right?"

"Yup. Why don't you see what it is? You're smaller."

He eyed his crewmate suspiciously and smacked his lips together as he thought it over, still outside from the duct. "You want me to stick my head in there to see what's making the noise within the strange hole?"

"Fine, get back." Prosna tapped Socinus's heel with the tip of his boot. "I'll do it for you, pus. What, you think it's a cylon hiding out in the shaft? They're coming to get you."

"Shut up, man, I'll do it." He made a face at Prosna. He flailed his hands about mockingly. "Cylons. Give me a break…" he scooted forward. He held his hand back, palm up. "Light me, man." Prosna slapped a flashlight into his hand. "Thanks." There was more clanking and chirping. "Yeah… okay… huh…"

"What?" Prosna could see Socinus manipulating the light. "Hold the light steady so you can get a look at what's making that noise. If something's broke we gotta tell chief about-"

The clattering became a scurrying, and it got loud. Fast.

"What the frakity frak is that fraking thing? Are they using RR drones down here…?"

"No, Socinus, there are not RR drones down here unless we got a shipment of them and weren't told. Plus the commander hates that drone shit."

"Well… how about… hold on… FRAK!" Socinus screamed.

"Socinus!" Prosna watched as Socinus's body began to violently convulse. He smelled something- flesh- burning. He yanked Socinus out. "Soc-" he almost threw up. "Oh my gods…" half his face was melted. He heard a chirp and a flutter and threw up his arms, and screamed, as something lunged at him.

Starbuck was fuming. She'd almost shoulder-checked a crewmate when she was entering med bay five. She didn't want to be here, and she knew the major was wrong. She knew it. Who the frak does he think he is? Fraking jealous old man… I saved more lives on this ship by taking out snake bellies. Frak them and this ship… Command will see my kills and transfer me to Pegasus. Starbuck was almost shaking from the rage building inside of her and her eyes told anyone fraking stupid enough to dare talk shit to her or piss her the frak off…

She clenched her jaw and took a seat on an empty bed. Her body ached as it started coming off the adrenaline dump. Her arms were folded and she started to wait. Impatient she sighed, only to earn the ire of a nurse from across the way.

Starbuck sucked in a breath and sighed loud enough to get the attention of one of the nurses just standing around doing nothing at a computer terminal. Hurry the frak up, she wanted to shout at her. She had duties to attend to. She needed to get back to her viper and go on CAP despite what Dipper wanted, her place was out there!

Her eyes were closed and she was picturing smashing that arrogant bitch of a pilot Showboat in the next war game drills. Frak, she just might challenge her to a h-band sim. Put a few thousand cubits down on a bet. Maybe Showboat losing a month's pay would shut the bitch up, Starbuck thought to herself. She snickered.

She kept her eyes closed and laid back on the bed. Her hands were rubbing her eyes. Her face hurt and her body. Frak, she hits hard…

She'd closed her eyes but her pilot's instincts caught up to her. She started to listen.

'Gods doc… please…'

'We won't be able to save him, move to the next patient…'

'No, all the surgical bays in the whole gods' damned fleet are filled up… frak…'

'We ran out of his blood type... get the synthetics.'

'He'll lose the arm, Major Cottle, unless we-'

Starbuck opened one eye and then another. She slowly sat up. Her head began to clear. To her left was a man, badly burned, to her right were two men sharing a bed, one with his arm in a cast and the other bandages over his eyes.

She looked left and right and then behind her. She was-

"Why are you on a bed?"

Starbuck snapped back to reality. "Wh… what?"

There was a nurse standing in front of her. She was short, maybe a head shorter than Starbuck and looked to be maybe from Gemenon or Sagittaron. Hey hair and eyes were a dark black. She had surgical gloves on. Deep pockets ringed her eyes from lack of sleep. Her eyes were focused in on Starbuck but not really. "What's wrong with you?"

Her tone caught Starbuck off guard.

"I was, um…" Starbuck began to see what was around her. She began to smell what was around her. She began to hear what was around her. "I was in a fight-"

The nurse scoffed. "A fight? You need a bed for that?" The nurse was staring at her. Starbuck couldn't look her in the eyes and she'd lost her voice, umming and not finding the words. "Fine. Take it. I'll be with you soon. After I help them." She jerked her head towards two men who were burned, one with a foot up in a sling, and the other moaning from pain.

Starbuck gulped. She felt her eyes grow heavy. She felt small, wrong for being on the bed. She shot up and off. She almost knocked over a monitor. The nurse glared. Starbuck saw it all, smelled it all, and heard it all. The bay was filled with men and women who were wounded and injured. She saw one man near the hatch with a look of horrific pain washing over his face, clenching his teeth, and refusing to scream as his injuries were treated.

Half a dozen beds on the far side of the bay had black body bags.

Doctor Cottle, the gruff and chain smoking old medical genius everyone on Galactica loved to hate but always wanted to be seen by, dropped his clipboard and rushed over to a patient who started convulsing.

A man walked by, led by his who was holding his hand. Bandages were wrapped around his eyes. "Excuse us," the guide said as he slowed, grasped his friend's hand tighter, and put one hand on his shoulder to help him. Starbuck could see the burn marks from where the bandages didn't cover.

Starbuck looked at the deck. She pushed off from the bed but her legs wouldn't take her anywhere. She just kept looking at the men and women around her, their condition, what they'd been through. She-

There was a hand on her back. She turned.

"Oh gods…" she took a step and hugged the man, real tight, and wouldn't let him go.

Commander Adama didn't hesitate. He saw Kara from across the bay and could sense something was wrong. By the time his hand had touched her shoulder a sense of knowing had enveloped him. He knew what she was going through. He knew it, because he'd been the exact same.

So when she hugged him he hadn't hesitated. A senior commander in the Fleet, renowned for his tactical prowess and 'against the odds' reputation, hugged the young and inexperienced and cocky pilot. "Kara."

"Commander." He could hear the surprise in her voice, like she just realized what she'd done, the breaches of etiquette and bearing. She stepped back. "I'm-"

He kept a hand on one shoulder and rubbed the side of her other arm caringly. "I know how it feels, Kara. It's overwhelming. We've been there." He could see a small tear in her eye.

"I was… I…"

"We make mistakes."

He knows, somehow he knows… Starbuck thought. She could see it in his eyes. She could read it in his body language.

"I fraked up, sir."

"You learned, and that's-"

There was a scene of mass commotion. Commander Adama and Kara turned quickly. A man had almost fallen to the deck, only to be grabbed by a crewman and a nurse. Doctor Cottle was rushing over but the man, badly burned and shaking, pushed them all off.

He had a look of absolute fear, absolute horror on his face. "It killed Socinus!" He yelled. "Gods! Get off… we have to…"

"Son, you gotta calm the frak down!" Doc Cottle was over him and ordering nurses and crewmen to hold him and force him onto a bed. He tried to examine him and the crewman pushed and kicked back. "Hold him!" Cottle yelled. "Prosna, you have to calm down so we can help you, son!"

Adama and Kara were closer, watching. Adama felt something strange, a rumbling in his gut and a tingle in his spine. 'It killed Socinus'… he swallowed. 'It killed Socinus…' Adama could smell the burned flesh.

"Get off of me!" He kicked. His eyes were wide and filled with fear. His uniform was burned, almost melted onto his skin, which was red and black and already blistering. "Get… Commander! Oh gods!" He pushed away and fell to the floor. He was pulled up but with almost superhuman strength pushed the nurses away and stumbled forward. He fell into Adama's arms.

The commander grabbed him and held him up. "Son, you have to-"

"Commander… Adama…" Prosna breathed heavily with a near manic fire in his eyes. His grip on Adama's arms was bruising. "It killed Socinus… more of them… metal… bugs… they're all over the ship… they killed him… killed Socinus…" Prosna looked him in the eye. He shook the commander. "Metal bugs… eating the ship…" and there was a second, a flash of understanding in Adama's eyes, a look on his face. And Prosna knew the commander knew. In a heartbeat his body slumped and the life of this man Adama did not know, but had been so very brave faded… another casualty…

Commander Adama had arrived in CIC and Captain Kelly had immediately rushed over. He'd ignored Starbuck trailing him. Both the captain and Major Spenser looked ragged and haggard. "Commander," the captain said with a salute.

"What've we got?"

The four walked to the DC center, where a large video screen was projecting Galactica's innards and a series of compartments had been isolated and highlighted with red.

"We've lost all contact with these six sections of the ship," Kelly began as the section lit up, "and the ten men and women assigned to work damage control in them. Chief Tyrol confirms that he sent the DC parties down there himself and roll call has been unable to locate them. Lt. Burrell-" a small profile picture appeared for Adama- "is the current senior Marine officer. He's taken his platoon down to the section for recon. He should be there momentarily."

Major Spenser stepped forward and ran his hand over the video screen. "If Cylons managed to board the ship, this section is only six frames forward of FTL control. If they gain control of secondary FTL they could jump the ship."

Starbuck shot the commander a look. "How the frak could Cylons get aboard the ship?"

Adama kept his eyes focused on the video screen. "This is classified: Fleet coms picked up Cylon transmissions coming from a number of goa'uld vessels." He saw the others exchange shocked looks. "The Cylons may have snuck aboard at some point during the battle. We have no idea how far their technology has progressed in the last forty years."

"Why?" Starbuck asked. "Why sneak aboard?"

Kelly snorted. "Do the Cylons need a reason? We still don't know why they attacked us fifty years ago. Only guesses, ensign."

Starbuck's jaw tensed.

"Sir, priority call from the flagship, it's Admiral Nagala." Lt. Gaeta said as he looked up.

The command crew of Galactica and Atlantia stood by as they watched the Marines move forward into the sealed compartments…

Lt. Terry Burrell, fourth platoon leader, wiped the sweat from his brow and swallowed deep. He felt his stomach growl from nearly a day of 'I'm too busy' to eat. Or was it something else? He sniffed and smelled a faint scent of burning waffling lazily down the corridor. The temperature in the previous corridor and this were fluctuating wildly. Cold air was mixing with the hot and humid and creating a slick surface on the deck, and condensation on the bulkhead. To make it worse and set the scene lights were flickering and Burrell could hear faint clicking and scurrying noises.

He stopped and raised a fist. The platoon was at the T intersection. The paint on the bulkhead read 03-15-65, so he knew they were in the right spot. He signaled for Gunny Mathias, his senior surviving NCO, to take left while he and six others would take right. Mathias had seven other Marines with her. They should have had double that, and should have been going in at three or four ingress points, but the hatches had been sealed. These two on the starboard side of Galactica were the only two into this deep and secluded section of the battlestar that could be cut through in a reasonable time.

The Marines moved up, split apart, and stopped at their respective hatches. Burrell had one of his corporals engage the cutting torch. The line was blindingly bright even as they looked away. A minute ticked by and then a second and a third. Interior hatches were designed to protect against decompression and weren't as heavy or thick as the exterior hatches. Cutting was easy.

"We're in, sir," the corporal said as he turned off the fuel source and the torch snapped off. The hatch was glowing a bright orange around the locking mechanism. Molten metal had dripped and cooled along the frame.

"Gunny, progress?" Burrell asked over the tac-coms.

"We're in."

Burrell nodded to himself and swallowed. His grip tightened on the battle rifle. He wanted to check his magazines and gear one last time but pushed back his nervousness. This would be his first actual engagement, his first real firefight. Maybe… if Prosna wasn't delusional from gasses or something toxic… Burrell thought, but who the frak would seal up hatches? Frak me…

He exhaled and then gave the signal to enter. The Marine keyed up his throat mike. "Burrell to Galactica Actual, we're heading in." He received a confirmation and a 'good luck'. Frak…

The hatch was pushed back quickly. No point in being quiet. The torch would've alerted anyone who wasn't deaf.

Burrell was in quick. Everything seemed to be functioning well. He'd been told the lights and atmospheric scrubbers in this section were acting all screwy after the battle but they were fine. Strange…

"What the frak?" It was Corporal John Gams. He had his rifle pointed at a hole. "It looks like it was melted from the inside out…" he leaned closer at an angle and threw in a camera ball. "Let's see what we can…" the ball started to move down the ventilation shaft but the video fuzzed and went dead. "Frak."

"Could be some sort of interference. Let's stay on the hop, corporal," Burrell said as he tapped the Marine on the back of the shoulder as he moved by.

Burrell scanned his area and kept his breathing steady. Despite that he could feel his chest heave and sweat trickled down passed his ear and tickled his neck as it disappeared underneath his collar and armored vest.

There was nothing but the sounds of footsteps and the hum of machinery and gravity plating. All normal sounds he'd have expected.

The lieutenant held up a hand. The map projected onto his combat goggles showed they were near where Prosna had been assigned his work detail. He used hand signals to move his Marines forward. Two covered the rear and others covered a side corridor. Burrell and Gams moved up, along with two Marines.

They came around the corner.

No one was there. "Burrell to Galactica Actual… we're at the work site, negative on contacts. No sign. Bravo Lead, status?"

Gunny Mathias's voice crackled over the coms. "Negative on contacts, Alpha Lead… shit… wait one…"

The com unit cut out. Burrell felt his stomach churn and a tingle run up and down his spine. He swallowed. His grip tightened. And it happened so fast.

Nothing was happening. No signs of these 'bugs' Prosna had described in his mad death rant to the commander. No sign that Socinus was even dead… then it happened.

In seconds the sounds of something scurrying towards the Marines was all around them. Holes formed above them and on the bulkhead separating the corridor from other compartments. Dozens of holes and things began crawling through. The holes disgorged dozens, hundreds of bug-like mechanical monsters, which scurried towards them from all directions.

This was an ambush.

"Open fire!" Burrell yelled. He pressed his battle rifle to his shoulder and pulled the trigger. He shot at two of the mechanical monstrosities trying to come from a hole and then turned his fire on a second hole and then a third that appeared. "Alpha Lead to Galactica Actual!" Static. "Galactica Actual!" More static.

His Marines were shooting in all directions. Combat discipline began to fade, trigger discipline was almost non-existent as more and more of these monsters replaced the ones that were shattered by their bullets.

"There's too many!" Someone yelled. "We need to get outta here!" Another screamed. "Oh frak!" Yelled another until a blood curling cry of pain met the ears of every Marine.

The team saw a bug spit acid onto a Marine as the young man tried to cover his face with his hand. The synthetic material of his glove melted near instantly, followed by flesh that dripped onto his face and chest, and finally tendon and bone. He screamed and screamed. The bug reared back, ready to spit acid once again, and Burrell charged forward and kicked it off.

The acid sprayed wildly and Burrell yelled a curse and fell to a knee. A tiny and what should have been insignificant amount of acid got on his pants. A drop. A small drop. But it was enough to burn a tiny hole into his leg. It was excruciating, debilitating. He held back the scream. He focused his strength and grabbed his Marine and pulled him to his feet. The young man was about to pass out form the shock but Burrell yelled at him to stay with them.

Burrell ordered the retreat. He pulled back Gams who was firing and not moving.

He felt the private fall and Burrell turned back. A bug had latched onto the Marine's leg and jabbed its mechanical appendage into the calf of the young man. It used its mechanical appendages like knives, tearing and slashing into flesh. He fell to a knee and a second bug jumped onto his back and stabbed him again. A third bug and a fourth jumped on and swarmed over the body, stabbing it and spraying it with acid.

His Marine yelled and grabbed at Burrell for help.

The lieutenant felt the horror rush through his body, tear into his mind, confuse and enrage him. He released a spent magazine, threw a grenade down at his dying Marine to end his torture as his team rounded the corner, and with a disciplined hand put in a fresh magazine into his weapon. He shouldered it and as he walked backwards shattered two of the bugs and a third and a fourth.

Then his team took its next casualty.

A bug had jumped onto Corporal Jen Fern. It dug its claws into her chest like her armor wasn't even there. She screamed but the sound was muffled as she gurgled up blood. Her eyes rolled back and she collapsed to the deck, dead.

Corporal Gams fired on the bug. It was torn apart. "There's too many of them!" He yelled over the roar of automatic gun fire. An explosion almost threw them all to the deck. "Frak..!"

Lt. Burrell could taste blood in his mouth. He spit onto the deck and used his sleeve to wipe his lip. With what little strength he had left he rolled from his stomach onto his back and fired and fired again at the oncoming swarm of these murderous and bloodthirsty attackers.

He tried the wireless again: "Alpha lead to Galactica Actual, respond. We need reinforcements!" Nothing but static answered him. He couldn't raise Bravo.

The young man looked around. He could feel his emotions pushing passed his training. He could feel the fear running straight towards him, ready to bust through his walls and incapacitate him. He could feel his body's desire to curl up into a ball in the corner and just wait for, accept death. No.

He saw the exit. "Move it! We're almost there!" He pulled back his Marines with one hand while using the other to fire. He ejected another spent magazine and placed in a new one. The mechanical bugs were exploding left and right.

He lost another Marine when a swarm broke through their fire. They were so close to the exit.

"Move!" They fired. They did everything they could. Someone threw a grenade. It cleared the corridor for precious seconds until dozens more of the mechanical monsters swarmed passed.

He stepped through the hatch and began to pull it shut. "Gams, let's move it!"

"Coming L.T.!" He yelled. The corporal turned and stepped. Then stopped.

"Gams!" Burrell held out a hand. "Gods…" A bug crawled over Gams's shoulder then dug its appendages through his collar bone and straight into his chest. Gams fell to the ground, his eyes staring back at the lieutenant. A second bug crawled over him and sliced at his neck.

Burrell stood motionless.

Then he felt himself being pulled back. And as the hatch slammed shut Gams disappeared.

Commander Adama felt the loss. They were his Marines now, Galactica Marines. His eyes searched the schematics of Galactica and already he was working on a plan to defeat those mechanical monsters. Cylons? Why are they here?

Then was relief as the wireless clicked on and the tac displays showed Lt. Burrell's wireless come alive. His voice was hard and heavy and there was pain underneath the grizzled tone.

"We took eight casualties between the two teams, sir," Adama could hear Burrell say over the wireless, which was still filled with intermittent static. "Uploading our video... the… bugs… they were mechanical sir. They're not like anything I've ever seen anywhere, sir. They spit acid. Killed a lot of good men and women. And they used their appendages as stabbing weapons."

"We're quarantining the entire section, lieutenant," Adama said, "let the medics take care of you and your men." He saw the dots of additional Marine fire teams taking up positions. Are there enough…?

"Aye, sir. Can't send video, busted… I'm sending the gunny up to get you the video… fill you in… frak!" The wireless shut off after one of the medics was heard telling him to lay back and be still.

Commander Adama informed the fleet commanders of what happened.

Commander Adama turned towards a video screen, which has Admiral Nagala's image, as well as other fleet commanders and Major Upland. He saw the FID operative with a worried look, and the admiral… Adama knew the admiral had already made a decision. "Admiral, we have to evacuate the Galactica and contain this."

"Evacuate as many as you can, commander. We need to… contain this… send your evac ships to-" Nagala's image fuzzed out and blurred. His voice was distorted. "Commander. Commander, are you there?"

"We're still here, sir," Adama said. He looked to the side. Major Spenser looked tense and was cupping his chin in his hand. Captain Kelly's eyes were scanning the internal readouts of Galactica. Starbuck looked ready to charge headlong into this… infestation. "We have two platoons of Marines stationed in the vicinity, admiral. We're arming every crewman we can but-"

"This threat has to be contained, commander." Off screen, to where Adama couldn't see, Nagala was doing something. "Atlantia and her escorts will remain here with Galactica."

At that moment Gunny Mathias entered the CIC. She looked like she'd seen hell, and barely lived to tell the tale. Her uniform was ripped. There was blood on her face and her hands. She smelled like gunpowder and sweat. Dirt and grime were everywhere on her.

She tried to throw up a salute. "Sir."

"Gunny, thank the gods you made it," Kelly said as he stepped forward and let her take his place. He took the memory card from her. "We-"

"There were a few seconds where we didn't think we'd make it." She swallowed. Adama saw that her eyes were glassy, distant. "Everything's on the video."

Kelly slid the card into a reader slot and brought up the video. It was Burrell's team and it was fast and savage.

"His team never had a chance," Kelly said. Major Spenser closed his eyes and shook his head. Adama saw something worrying in the major's eyes when he glanced back up, before looking back down at the floor.

Adama was about to speak when Upland leaned forward. Her image was grainy and there were lines of static running up and down. The image resolved fully then snow began to appear and wash out the color and detail.

"Commander… these may be the… that SG1 briefed… no one believer them… if they're the… you must destroy them… or… they called… replicators…have to…"

The image completely vanished. Kelly was tapping on commands and had called over to Ensign Gaeta. Commander Adama kept a stone-like expression as his eyes stayed focused on the snow-filled screen. These… creatures… replicators… they were once again proof the Colonies were still woefully uninitiated on the galactic scene, and their very name evoked a feeling of horrible, dreadful thoughts on why they were called that.

Gaeta had taken off his headset and swirled around in his chair. "Transmitter's there but we're picking up odd signals from inside the quarantined section. Something's-"

The lights flickered and they were in darkness.

Emergency lights had activated within seconds. The hanger deck was bathed in an emergency red that cast shadows in every direction. Crewmen were already grabbing generators. Marines were rushing knuckle draggers, snipes, and everyone else to rescue and evac ships. A group of near a hundred were crammed on a lift as it rose upwards towards awaiting rescue transports.

"Get a move on, get a move on! Third round of evac birds leave in thirty seconds!" Tyrol yelled as he made his way through the crowd. He clapped to motivate some of his work crews to pick it up. "Let's go! Tarn! We got plenty of those back in the Colonies, leave everything! Go! Go!"

He helped push guide a few people up a Raptor. He wiped sweat from his brow.

Chief Tyrol had heard the evacuation klaxon six minutes ago. Already the crew was moving like the well-oiled machine the years of drilling trained into them.

He heard some light footsteps- somehow in the roar of so much commotion he didn't know- and turned. Tyrol stopped and his mouth fell open. He quickly composed himself. "Cally? Get out of here, you heard the evac order." He was frantically pointing and gesturing towards an awaiting ship down the bay.

"Chief!" The young woman protested, wide eyed and with a pitied look on her face, "if you don't leave with us you'll be stuck here until the first flight returns."

Tyrol put on his best fake smile and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I've been through worse than just Cylon boarding parties, Cally. Now go." He pointed. "I'll be behind you in the next wave of evac buses, I swear." The chief put up a hand to pretend swear. He grabbed a passing Marine and told him to watch her and make sure she actually did get on one of the evac buses.

A few minutes passed, and Tyrol was feeling less trepidation, less nervous about his fate. When he'd seen part of the CIC crew come through he'd had an 'oh shit' moment, but they'd be evacuated per the Old Man's orders. Tyrol knew Adama would stay until the last and if the Old Man was staying, he was, too.

He picked up the sound powered telephone and jabbed the old button for 'CIC.' Part of the first 'C' was rubbed off from years of wear and tear. "CIC, Ensign Gaeta."

"Is the commander available? It's Tyrol."

There was a pause.

"Chief? Tell me the good news."

"We've got half the crew evacuated and…." The chief stopped talking. Something was about to happen. There was a shift in the deck plates, subtle, but he felt something rumble. A tingle came up his spine. His eyes scanned the hanger bay. He put his hand on the bulkhead and closed his eyes. "Sir… the-" yellow lights enveloped the hanger deck. There were two quick buzzes, followed by a longer third whine. "Sir, the pod's retracting!"

Tyrol looked around. The work crews had stopped. Everyone was standing. He put back the phone and started to move towards the center of the bay. And he heard the strangest sound of clattering, a strange sound, almost like rain, like a tapping of water on a tin roof which grew louder and louder, and it was coming from everywhere.

Commander Adama picked up the sound powered but Tyrol was gone. He hit the button to transfer the call to the nearest sound powered close to the quarantine zone. Nothing.

"Sir?" Captain Kelly was standing opposite him at the command plot. He had a pistol strapped to his leg now. There were Marines in the CIC. "Gaeta tried to reach our Marine teams. No luck."

Adama kept his eyes on the ship's readouts, which were streaming by on the monitors. But they weren't refreshing properly and the red that should indicate retracted pods was still green, indicating extended. "The replicators are into our computers."

Ensign Gaeta was up and standing near Kelly. "I can take the networks offline." Adama nodded at Gaeta for him to do just that.

"Why the hell would they retract the pods? If they're trying to take over the ship, why have more of us here?" Spenser asked. He was tapping his finger quickly. "Makes more sense to let us all leave."

"Is that what they're doing? I thought they just wanted to kill us all…" Kelly quipped. "My dad told me stories during the Cylon War, boarding parties would try to fight on our ships for as long as possible, disabled them, and force other ships to 'watch' them… they knew we wouldn't fire on our own people."

Adama gave him, all of them, a 'don't bet on it' look. "They're not Cylons."

Starbuck scoffed. "They're machines, captain. Is there ever a reason we can understand?" She'd somehow managed to procure a battle rifle. "I think the only thing we need to focus on is killing them."

The captain smirked, but his smirk quickly faded and his eyes grew grim. "Commander, what did that woman mean…? SG1? Replicators? Is that what these are?"

"There's a lot that's still classified, captain."

Starbuck spoke up. "I can grab everyone I can find, get to the armories. What about going in with everything we have? Push in hard and fast. Demo charges at key sections." She slammed her fist into her palm. "We can do it. These things go down to our bullets. That's all we need to know."

Gunny Mathias looked at her like she was some mad woman. "They massacred our teams, ensign." Her jaw was open as she tried to find the right words. "Marines. There's no way-"

Starbuck protested. "We can't just sit here and do nothing." She looked towards the commander. "We don't just roll over and die!"

"Starbuck's right," Adama said. "Gunny. Get her one of your Marines and have them escort her to the armory. Everyone's trained in basic firearms. If these things are building more of themselves-"

"How can they do that?" Mathias interrupted and then had a sheepish look at the breach of protocol. The demands of the situation forgave her.

"Gunny…" Adama was slow with his words, "what we've seen out there in the last couple of years… what we've heard exists… it's beyond our nightmares. These things… are… worse… We need every hand holding a gun and fighting back if we're going to keep this ship."

"Aye, sir. Starbuck," Mathias turned to the woman, "with me. Sergeant Kaska will get you to the armory."

The commander watched the two leave. "Lt. Burrell, organize your men. The defense of CIC is a priority until we can evacuate or reclaim the ship. Any action we take will need a nerve center." He brought up a schematic of the area. "If we lock down the hatches here and here," he pointed, "we can funnel the bugs into two approaches, which leaves us a choice of exit."

The lieutenant was leaning up against the command plot obviously injured. "I have fifteen Marines to cover those two approaches. I want to keep at least six in CIC to serve as a reserve for whichever approach needs it." He tapped a secondary display. "We still have about a hundred Marines around the ship. Most would be in the pods or engineering. They'll try to rendezvous with us here."

"Get with your men, organize them as you see fit." Adama turned his attention to Kelly. "We have to-"

There was a power drain and they all felt light headed, with an unease that washed over the CIC personnel. Adama felt his gut twist into knots and Kelly looked sick. Starbuck gave him a look. She didn't say a word, but her lips mouthed an 'oh frak.'

Ensign Gaeta shouted out what everyone knew had just happened: "Commander! We've jumped!"

There were moans and creaks in the Old Girl as Lt. Burrell stood quietly with his men. He was stoic. Remote cameras set up to monitor distant corridors with approaches to CIC had gone to static. Wireless was spotty at best. He knew there were hold-outs all over the ship. He could hear the gun fire from time to time. He knew of a large group trying to make its way out of engineering to the auxiliary landing bay.

He had faith that whatever these creatures were that Colonial firepower would prevail. They were susceptible to gunfire, he knew that.

"Frak, you think they got the runners, LT?" Gunny Mathias asked.

"Pray that they didn't," Burrell responded as he licked his lips. If the runners were gone they couldn't re-establish contact with the Marine units spread throughout the ship.

Lt. Burrell heard their approach. He leveled his rifle as the sounds of these mechanical monsters began to approach. And suddenly, they stopped. The emergency lights were bathing many of the corridors in eerie shadows.

"I don't like this, L.T.," Gunny Mathias said quietly. She too had her rifle ready. She swallowed loudly and cringed.

"We'll take care of this… infestation, gunny," Burrell noted. "They go down easy to our weapons. We just need to push hard."

He readied his Marines. There were five, including himself, guarding this section of the corridor. They were armed with explosive rounds to annihilate any sort of initial assault. There was plenty of ammunition between the five, as well as additional rifles stacked on the bulkhead just in case.

The other approaches to CIC were covered by additional Marines. They'd managed to pull up a few squad weapons as a last ditch 'just in case' right outside the CIC.

"Sir…"

It was a worried voice. It was from Private Vance, a new transfer to Galactica straight out of training and LOGNA.

"Hold to it, private." Burrell turned his head as footsteps approached from the rear. "Ensign, major, are you two joining us for the fun?"

Gunny Mathias looked back. "Starbuck, Dipper, good to have you both with us. We could use the extra firepower." She nodded to their battle rifles.

Starbuck cracked a grin. "Pow, pow, pow."

"Stow it, Starbuck," Dipper hissed. "Keep yourself focused."

Lt. Burrell noticed that Dipper's voice was shaky. He knew the pilot was afraid. But frak, they all were. Burrell felt gods damned impotent standing there with only a handful of his Marines, standing as gods knew how many of his men and women were being slaughtered on the other decks or how many of the crew was still holding out and waiting rescue by the Marines.

He knew that his men and women were well-trained and that they'd organize themselves. He knew the crew would go for the armories and organize search/rescue/kill parties. He'd read of ships during the Cylon War in far worse shape with legions of Cylon boarding parties that had fought them off and lived to fight another day.

He wanted to do something. Not sit by and just defend. It spat in the face of all his training. Every school he'd been to engrained offense. Taking the fight to the enemy… he felt sweat drip down his forehead as he thought of this. He felt his heart pound in his chest as the lights began to flicker more and more. The Old Girl groaned again. His ears ticked as he heard gun fire far in the distance, carried down the corridor, around corners. He couldn't place it.

Private Vance broke the pregnant silence. "Why don't we go out and do something, sir?" His tone bordered on demanding.

Lt. Burrell knew the waiting could kill his unit's cohesion just as much as the enemy could. "We hold on, follow orders, and-"

There was a moan that cut him off and forced him and the squad to tense. Shoulders felt the push of individual rifle butt stocks and muscles tensed. Sweat dripped down the cheeks of everyone standing guard. Clothes stuck to their sweaty wearers. Breaths were slow and light.

A shadow began to lurch down the corridor. There was the mechanical chirping and clanging of the damned bugs. Then they stopped as the shadow approached. Lt. Burrell ordered his squad to ready their weapons.

"My gods!" Vance said. "No…" Mathias added. "What the frak…" was what Spenser added. Starbuck was silent, staring down the sight.

"Lower your weapons!" Burrell ordered and he swiped his hand down to give the signal. "That's Gams! Gams survived! Vance, with me, we gotta get him before the bugs come."

"How the frak did he survive the fraking ambush?" Mathias asked. Her mouth was open. She was wary. And her rifle was at a high ready.

Gams stopped. His eyes were glassy. He reached out. His uniform was tattered and there were cuts along his arm and torso. "Help…" he fell to one knee.

"LT, I'm not-" Mathias started. "LT?"

Something happened to Lt. Burrell. He rushed forward. Starbuck yelled for him to stop. Mathias ordered a Marine back that followed. Private Vance leapt up and was on the heels of his lieutenant.

"Gams, thank the…" Burrell was within arm's reach. He stopped mid-stride. Then his heart stopped.

He saw one of the things on his back. He saw the blocks under his skin, torn into his clothes. Slashes and cuts on his chest and neck… there was no explanation for how Gams was alive. He wasn't. "Gams…."

The dead Marine, with superhuman speed, grabbed Burrell and pulled him in. His fist contacted the lieutenant's face as the built Marine tried to fight back. Vance threw up his rifle and readied to fire but Gams grabbed the barrel and yanked it so hard that it broke Vance's finger and pulled him forward to the ground, breaking his nose and scrapping his face.

Blocks formed over Gams' arm and fist. He reared back and slammed the fist into Burrell's chest, caving it in. He threw the lieutenant back, who landed dead by the Marines.

Vance was already dead as replicators swarmed over his body as they detached from Gams' back.

"Open fire!" Mathias yelled.

Rifles fired and metal ripped into Gams who went down to bullets and explosive rounds which tore him apart. Replicators exploded into showers of blocks as explosives made hard contact. Vance's body was shredded by bullets and explosives. A replicator detached from Gams, scaled the bulkheads and jumped forward to a Marine, spraying acid and burning through his armor before the Marine could take it off.

The screams were blood curling. Major Spenser backtracked, yelled something no one heard, and wildly fired his rifle. A stray bullet struck a Marine in the calf and he fell back from the friendly fire. The replicator jumped off the Marine with the burning and smoking chest and latched back onto the bulkhead.

More replicators were out near Gams' body and Vance's. They were coming fast. And they were swarming over the dead.

"Frak this!" Spenser yelled. He was getting back to CIC.

"Keep firing, hold the line!" Mathias urged as she let a spent magazine fall and clatter to the deck. She stepped back just as a replicator sprayed acid. It burned the bulkhead. She fell to a knee, pulled her sidearm and shot the replicator with two well-placed bullets.

Another bullet tore the leg off another attacker and a rifle burst ended its short existence. Mathias continued to fire until she sensed she had time to grab the Marine injured from friendly fire and just pull.

"We gotta get outta here!" Starbuck yelled. She back peddled and slung her rifle and grabbed an HE grenade from her pouch. "Get back!" She grabbed one of the last Marines and yanked him.

Two were providing covering fire and tearing into the replicators. They paused and retreated just behind a bend. They could hear far more approach.

She tossed the grenade, ran and took cover as an explosion ripped through the corridor. She felt the heat on her back and the hair on the back of her neck burn. She pulled back a hatch and locked it tight and Starbuck started running towards the ship's nerve center.

They had to evacuate CIC.

They moved fast. Adama, Starbuck, Kelly, Gaeta, Mathias, Dipper, and a part of the CIC staff. There was barely time to breath as the group made its way through the bowels of the mighty and gargantuan battlestar.

Commander Adama held up a fist, and the group halted. Starbuck came up to his right and Gunny Mathias on his left. Mathias moved forward slowly as Adama and Starbuck covered her.

"Where to, boss?" Starbuck asked.

The Old Man considered his options. Kelly came up beside them both.

"Sir, with boarding protocols crew would be forming into pockets. We should take the fight to the bugs," Kelly advised.

"Blow the ship," Starbuck offered.

Adama nodded. "We'll try and retake the ship if-"

Gunfire erupted from the rear of the formation. A crewman was firing his pistol and soon the bangs of a half dozen firearms were heard. There were screams and shouts.

Starbuck raced back and faced the oncoming swarm of mechanical monsters. She fired into one that jumped at an injured crewman, who she tried to pull forward, but he was overweight and difficult to move. He was moaning and yelling. "Frakking get up!" She screamed and fired her rifle one handed. The recoil bucked it back. Only her first bullet succeeded in damaging a single replicator.

She could hear the Commander shouting orders to form up. But younger crewmen scared out of their minds were rushing forward and preventing the commander and Mathias from getting to the rear. A Marine went down to two replicators.

"Left, Starbuck!" Dipper yelled. He and she both fired simultaneously as a large replicator- a beetle more than a bug- charged at the group.

A second Marine was firing right, taking down replicators with precision bursts. A young crewman, little more than a grown kid, was firing his pistol too fast to take aim. It clicked and clicked and he was paralyzed from realizing a need to load a new magazine.

Within seconds they were being pushed back, but the crewman didn't fall back. He couldn't move.

"Get back!" The Marine by his side shouted over the road of gunfire.

Smoke was filing the corridor. Acrid fumes were beginning to waffle down from replicators burrowing holes through the decks and bulkhead with their acids.

A second and third mechanical beetle charged around the corridor. Both made speed towards the isolated crewman. He screamed and back peddled, but a replicator rushed by and slashed an appendage into his calf. He collapsed.

"Fire on those things!" Starbuck yelled as she shifted fire. Her rifle clicked and she quickly changed magazines. Her bullets dinged on the bulkhead, knocked one beetle back, and quick bursts from Dipper finished it off.

The other beetle was too close. It leapt onto the crewman, burrowed its metallic, blocky appendages into his chest and as he screamed pincers materialized as blocks rearranged. It bit off its head, which fell on the dead along with the collapsing body.

"Frak!" Dippper yelled. They all focused their fire on the beetle. It exploded into a shower of blocks.

"Starbuck, Dipper!"

Starbuck heard the commander yelling for her. She chanced a glance back and the group was becoming separated. Starbuck saw something happening above. Melted and gooey metal dripped down. Remnants of acid spray hit the Marine who'd been by her side and he began to yell at the pain as the liquid ate away at skin and muscle and began to poison his blood.

Replicators dropped from the holes above. Starbuck and Dipper turned and began to fire at the decks and bulkheads above them.

A replicator lunged onto the head of another crewman, and a second latched onto his back. They dug their appendages into his body and tore. Skin was opened and muscle was shredded and blood sprayed everywhere, onto Starbuck and onto Dipper.

Too much smoke was filling the area. Starbuck and Dipper were being pressed into a corner and separated from the main group. More screams.

She fired and fired, destroying one bug after another. It was dark from the smoke.

Dipper fired until he was out of ammunition for his rifle, which he threw down and opened fire with his pistol. He loaded an explosive round and shot it off into a pack of near a dozen replicators swarming the corridor. The blast's light blinded him and his ear rung.

Starbuck shielded her eyes and saw spots everywhere. Whatever moved she fired at. She could barely hear the cracks of gunfire.

He let a spent magazine fall to the deck. His hands felt two more. He loaded one and began firing. His pistol jerked from the quick fire.

Starbuck was isolated. She'd moved a few steps away from Dipper in the intensity of the battle and she could feel her heart racing, thumping in her chest and struggling to break free. She was breathing rapidly and her eyes stung from fumes and sweat.

Suddenly she felt something knock her to the deck.

Starbuck kicked back at a replicator. She yelped from kicking the bug but it was knocked far enough away she just barely managed to bring her rifle to bear and fire two rounds into its face.

"Commander!" She yelled. "Help!"

She fired again. She saw Dipper. She tried to yell for his help. For a moment she made eye contact, but he turned and made his way back to the group, firing his pistol at anything that could move.

Starbuck growled, bore her teeth and cursed.

As she tried to bring her rifle back up a replicator scurrying over her arm and slashed at it. The pain was excruciating and she lost the grip on her rifle. It was on her chest.

And from the smoke Commander Adama rushed forward. He didn't have a shot. He could see the replicator positioning to kill Kara, to jab its blocky forward legs into her chest.

He grabbed it as it brought its legs down and slashed into his forearm. He yelped in pain and with all his might threw it as far back as he could. Kelly was beside him and the captain destroyed the bug with well-placed shots as Adama grabbed at Starbuck and pulled her up.

As Starbuck turned one of the larger bugs stopped and made ready to pounce. It wiggled its stubby, metallic pseudo wings. Then as it prepared to leap it was shattered from ear-piercing gun fire.

Starbuck turned and saw Dipper, who'd materialized from the smoke behind Adama and his gun barrel was smoking. She nodded to him and he took down another replicator.

She grabbed her rifle and they fought for their lives.

Galen Tyrol knew they were fraked. He had a sense about things like this. His stomach had been giving him fits prior to the attack on Delmak and now… now it was in full out open rebellion.

He heard Cally gasp as they rounded a corner. Tyrol shot her a look that said in no kind way to 'shut the frak up.' He had no idea what these things were capable of hearing and no idea what sort of sensors were built into them… he had no idea where those sensors even were.

Tyrol slowed for a second and closed his eyes and cursed himself. He regretted the look he'd given Cally and he couldn't blame her for gasping. The carnage was extensive. Bullet casings were everywhere. Holes were melted, blasted, or shot into the bulkheads everywhere. They'd already passed dozens of bodies mangled, burned, and butchered. He'd almost slipped on blood twice already, only for Cally to catch him both times.

He put up a fist.

Cally was up beside him. Three more deck hands were behind her. And a Marine they'd found was behind them, taking up the rear security. "What is it, Chief?"

Tyrol kneeled down. He used a rifle he'd taken from a dead Marine to poke at the mechanical bug. "It looks like its still-"

"Alive?" Cally asked, her voice filled with equal amounts terror and awe.

"I don't know…" Tyrol poked it again.

"You think it's a Cylon weapon, Chief?"

Chief Tyrol licked his lips. He put the rifle over his knees and cupped his chin. His eye ticked and he wiped sweat from it. "I don't… no, it's not Cylon. Look." He pointed. "There's no obvious optics, no obvious sensors… frak, Cally, I don't know how these things see, hear, or move… we shoot them and they just fraking… fall apart. Cylons had power cores, gears… What the frak is making them move? What's powering them? Nothing about this is consistent with Cylon technology…"

"But we can still kill 'em," Cally pointed out.

Tyrol huffed at her to-the-point observation. "Yeah, Cally, we can still kill them," he said dryly. Tyrol was going to reach for the bug, try and manipulate it with a small screwdriver he had in his pocket when he heard more noises. "Up, up, up…. Take position over there. George!"

George, the Marine, came up and readied a grenade. These machines went down fast to explosives. And they weren't going to go without a fight.

Suddenly the figures emerged.

Tyrol breathed a sigh of relief. Survivors. Each group stopped and stared for a moment.

"Commander…"

Adama grimaced as he moved his arm. The pain shot into his shoulder and around his back. He flexed his hand and opened and closed it from a fist. Starbuck was across the compartment with a look of desperation. Gaeta was starring at the deck plates and Captain Kelly was leaning against a bulkhead while Major Spenser was checking his magazines with an unblinking look that had the commander worried.

"Everything alright, Dipper?" The commander asked with a voice that did its best to hide any fear and convey some sense of fleeting and desperate hope. "We're close to the hull now."

"Sure, commander…" the major said quietly. Dipper started to take magazines out of his vest and lay them on supply crates.

Chief Tyrol and Cally were huddled off in a corner. She was clinging to him like…

The Old Man shook his head and bit his lip. He ran his hand down to the sling of his rifle and placed it on a storage container. His vest was dirty and grimy and he smelled horrible. Part of his uniform was torn and there were blood splatters along the knees, where he'd knelt trying to keep fallen crewmen from bleeding out.

This is it… this is how it ends…

There was a cling and a bang. "Oh gods!" Dipper yelled. "They found us."

"Shush!" Starbuck scolded. She held her finger up to her lips. "Listen." She calmly walked over to a bulkhead and leaned close. "It's gunfire. It's gunfire!" She got on all fours and put an ear to an air vent. "There's still people alive out there and fighting."

"Fighting?" Spenser was up and on his feet. "How many bodies are lying in the corridors? Dozens… hundreds…" he sneered and turned. Then he turned back to Starbuck. "You stupid, naïve bitch. We're done for. Are you blind? Did you see what they did to… to Gams? I won't…" he was shaking his head.

Starbuck gave him a puzzled look. One where she was saying 'I can't believe you just said that' sort of look. Her nose wrinkled like she smelled something awful. "There's always hope if we have faith." She gulped. "There's always hope."

"She's right. I have a plan," Adama declared. He looked towards Tyrol. "Gaeta, can we extend the flight pods?"

The ensign sighed and closed his eyes. He rubbed his forehead. "Um… no… I tried. Those things locked us out of the system. We'd have to manually extend them… that'd take dozens of people at different points on the pod."

"Wait!" Tyrol shot up. He started wagging his finger. "Wait! A raptor was unloading supplies at the auxiliary landing bay oh-nine. It should still be there."

"Then we head there. We also end this infestation once and for all. The secondary missile bay is two levels down from the auxiliary landing bay." Adama saw eyes go wide. "We grab a tac-nuke and set it off inside the ship," Commander Adama said as he grabbed his rifle and walked over to the air vent. He crouched down. "Gunfire. Starbuck's right. We have faith in ourselves we can do this. We're Colonials. We don't give up." He stood and looked everyone in the eye. "You hear me?"

Major Spenser snorted. "Then fight those bugs and watch your face get melted off." Commander Adama moved towards the major. "Don't." He held up his hand like a stop sign. It was cut up, with dried blood at the fingertips. His sleeve was torn on his flight suit. Those were the minor injuries Dipper had. "Just don't commander." He tapped his chest. "I saw what those things did to Gams. They freaking took over his body. I could see it in his eyes. He was still there." His chin dimpled. "I won't let that happen to me."

Commander Adama swallowed slowly and quietly. A noise distracted him, something that sounded like banging, and the entire group of survivors focused on the hatch. When it passed he was able to relax, let his shoulders drop and take a breath. "Major… listen…" his voice was stern and hard, military-like. They needed a leader, not a father. They-

He heard a BANG!

Adama jumped around. The way he turned he saw Starbuck first. There was blood on her face and she had a horrified, frightened look. She was shaking. She was afraid to move.

The commander's eyes tracked down. Lifeless eyes stared back.

Dipper had shot himself in the head.

Adama, Kelly, and Tyrol moved quick and cautious around the bend in the corridor. Adama stopped and scanned the darkened corridor beyond with his gun-mounted flashlight. They needed to move forward, but surprises and ambushes had forced them all into paranoia over their surroundings. These bugs were adapting quickly to their tactics.

Faint sounds of gunfire Starbuck had heard had quickly disappeared only to be replaced with eerie silence.

There were more bodies. Not a single one wounded… barely alive… not a single one… Adama had thought. Can we do this? Galactica is lost… can we survive… is the raptor even there?

The Old Man's nostrils flared as the smell of ozone and burning flesh touched them. There were streaks of crimson at the far end and scanning the flashlight down he saw what was a hand poking out from the corner. He prayed there was a body still attached to it and hoped that whoever it was had been given a quick death by these mechanical monsters.

The hatch at the end of the corridor was right there. It was dented and marks and scars pocketed the bulkheads around it. Spent shell casings were everywhere. Had others with access had the same idea? The compartment was one of the most heavily shielded with double hatches to prevent radiation leaks and its own closed ventilation. Could there be survivors in there locked away and awaiting rescue?

Adama motioned Kelly and Tyrol forward. He could hear the chief's heavy breathing. Kelly was quiet.

He put up a hand, a fist. Both Tyrol and Kelly scanned left and right and then took covering positions next to the hatch.

"The captain and I have to turn out keys simultaneously to get in from this way, sir," Tyrol advised.

Adama nodded and took a covering position. "Do it." The Chief and captain counted down and turned. The hatch unlocked with a click Adama swore was loud enough to be heard ten decks up in CIC.

"Okay, I'll be back in a minute." Tyrol began to open the hatch.

Commander Adama put his hand on the chief's and pushed as the chief tried to pull. "I don't think so, Chief." The commander's eyes slowly moved to the display panel, which, while broken and cracked, was still barely operational. "I may be old but my eyes aren't that bad. I can see the red bars, chief."

The chief tried to pull against the commander's resistance. "Sir, I… you're-"

"The commander," Adama stated. His eyes never wavered from the chief's. He took one step forward. Chief Tyrol didn't budge and was blocking Adama's access. "We can't do this here, chief. Stand aside."

Chief Tyrol frowned and looked to Captain Kelly for support. Kelly grimaced; he closed his eyes for a brief second as the chief saw pain and despair wash over his face. Then the captain turned back to guard the approach without saying a word.

"If you can go in and out fast enough you may be okay, sir."

Adama swallowed. "We know that's not true, son."

The chief gave his silent consent and stepped aside. He took another step back as the hatch closed. The chief could hear the locks cycling. After ten seconds he heard the thump of the inner hatch opening. Chief Tyrol felt a sickening and piercing pain stab at his heart as the red bars began to violently flash.

Commander Adama had the backpack with the tactical nuke in it. It was heavy on his back and the straps were cutting into his shoulder, but he couldn't stop. He ran. Starbuck ran. Tyrol ran. Kelly ran. Everyone was running as fast as they could.

Starbuck yelled out for cover and Adama glanced back as she half-turned, still running, and threw a grenade. Its explosion was deafening. Cally screamed something. Starbuck turned, ran backwards and fired at any of the replicators she thought she had a chance of hitting.

Gaeta slowed and turned and fired as Starbuck reloaded. He expended his last rifle magazine, dropped the now useless firearm as he pulled his sidearm and loaded in an explosive round. He quickly aimed and fired and the round shot out, leaving a small trail of vapor in its wake, and exploded against a far bulkhead to his left. Five, maybe six or seven replicators were blasted to pieces. And another was smashed by two bullets.

"Let's go, Felix!" Starbuck yelled as she pulled him forward. They both ran.

Adama saw them catch up in the corner of his eye. He turned and fired, sniping one replicator off the ceiling.

"Get in!" Tyrol shouted as he waved everyone forward.

Adama pushed Starbuck and Gaeta forward, then Tyrol, and he fired again as a replicator tried to enter the compartment. He kicked one away and shut the hatch with Tyrol's help.

He let himself rest against the bulkhead as the replicators pounded on the hatch. It wouldn't hold. They only had a few dozen seconds.

"Kelly," Adama called.

The captain softly pushed his way forward through the battle fatigued band of survivors. They'd picked up two more. One of the two was missing fingers and the other had burns over her legs. Both were moving on pure adrenaline and a lot of stims to ward off shock.

But their numbers had dwindled. They numbered just about a dozen.

"Sir…" Kelly was tired but he pushed his shoulders up and back and tried to stand tall in front of the Commander.

"Captain. We don't have time. I think…" Adama grimaced from the pain in his arm and a fresh wound in his side. He kept a hand up to ward off the captain. "I think if we split up, take the nuke one way, they'll follow it."

Captain Kelly was shaking his head. "Sir, we don't know that."

Adama looked him in the eyes. "The remote switch is gone, captain. It'll have to be detonated manually… it's a fifteen second timer."

He didn't see Starbuck come up on them. "Boss… wait, what are you saying?" Starbuck looked her commander in the eyes. "No. No. I won't let you, I won't-" She started going forward. Kelly grabbed her and kept her back. "Let go of me!" Kelly let her go when Gaeta came up and kept her back.

"Captain, get them to the raptor. I'll try and lead the bugs off."

Kelly sucked in a breath. His nostrils flared as he prepared. "Aye, sir." He handed the commander extra ammunition, a few grenades.

"NO! I'll do it!" Starbuck wrestled passed Kelly and Gaeta. She grabbed the commander. "Please! Don't do it!"

They could all smell the acid as the replicators began burning through the bulkhead.

"Starbuck." He grabbed her shoulders and held her. "Kara…" his eyes watered, hers did, too, but both were strong. "Take care of Zak… and Lee, especially Zak… he needs you, he loves you."

"Gods! Fraking no!" Starbuck screamed as Gaeta pulled her back and away. She tried to keep a grip on Adama's uniform. "No!"

Kelly swallowed after turning back from watching Starbuck. He saluted. "It was an honor, sir."

Adama returned the salute. He hid his pain. He buried his fate under his duty. "Get them home, captain."

Kelly nodded. "Give me ten minutes," he told the Old Man.

"Ten minutes."

Adama reloaded his rifle. He checked his pistol and made sure the grenades were in easy reach.

The Commander went to the far end of the compartment and opened the hatch and ran towards the center of the ship.

Starbuck didn't want to board the raptor. It was there, waiting for them, just as she'd prayed it would be.

Stepping on that raptor she would be abandoning the Commander. She couldn't/

Tyrol was back securing the rear hatch. There was a second hatch to the observation and control room they couldn't secure. She prayed the replicators weren't coming that way. The window wouldn't hold a tenth as long as the thick metal hatches.

She closed her eyes and just stood there. The groans of Galactica, the smell of the old girl, and the feel of her deck plates, her gravity, filled Kara with a sense of hopelessness. Her world was being shattered. The Commander was sacrificing himself. For them. For her.

"Why…" she whispered. "You have so much more to give than I do. I'm a frak up. I get people killed." She let her rifle fall to the deck. It clattered and rested by her foot. She could feel its pressure on the side of her boot. "Frak."

She felt a tear roll down her cheek. It wasn't just for the Old Man, for Bill Adama, but for everything and everyone who was gone.

They would survive. Everyone else was dead.

The horrors she had seen… had Dipper been right to… she choked back a sob and threw that thought away. Her fists balled. Kara felt rage. She felt sorrow and hopelessness.

Starbuck heard Tyrol yell for her. He grabbed her. "We gotta go, Starbuck!" He shouted at her. She snapped to. "NOW!" He pulled her. She didn't want to go. "Starbuck… I… I loved the Old Man. He was the best man I ever knew. He couldn't… the storage bay was flooded with radiation. He went in so I didn't have to… radiation was… too much to survive. But he got the nuke. He got it so we could live. Honor that!" He pulled at her.

Starbuck didn't resist him. She fell in step with him. She'd loved him, too.

The hatch on the raptor began to shut as replicators swarmed into the bay. The exterior hatch on the bay slammed shut.

Captain Kelly was there, staring at her. She looked at him as tears rolled down her eyes. Pain washed over his face.

The raptor jerked and hopped as it detached from the docking rings. Starbuck opened her eyes and her breath was stuttered. But she moved forward to the cockpit. She wasn't dead. The commander would want these people saved.

But...

The commander would be dead soon.

Adama felt his chest heave. His uniform was bathed in sweat and blood, both his and… the blood of too many others. He kept running as fast as he could. He fired and rolled his last grenade. Something gave way, and he fell.

He fell into part of the engineering deck. He cursed and rolled onto his side.

He spat out teeth. He felt a broken nose and his face was cut up from the catwalk. Adama looked up and saw the replicators had melted a huge hole in the deck above engineering.

He rolled again and grabbed the railing and yanked himself towards the edge. He stared into the deep pit of the FTL core. Machinery was everywhere, but he could just barely make out the deep black bottom. It was easily a hundred fifty meter down to the bottom. He placed himself quickly: he was near the upper assemblies, between the starboard and port drive energizers. Which put him above the massive FTL apparatus as it spun and pumped exotic energies into the drive core.

Ahead of him the catwalk split towards different pieces of vital machinery. Not that he had to be anywhere near them, not with the nuke. He looked over the side again.

He mouthed a curse. There was something on the drive core. He looked down again. No, not on it he realized, but hovering over it. Built over it. Blocky pylons extended for near a hundred-odd meters on either side and held a strange orb with spikes over the core. Energies laced between the spikes, and the bolts jumped from the spikes to the drive core.

Then his eyes followed one of the pylons… a giant mechanical bug, parts of it glowing was attached to the pylon. Energy flowed from it towards the spiked orb. And on the right side of the bug more were appearing… there would be a dull blue, almost white light, and bugs would appear. Others were crawling over the giant, glowing bug carrying pieces of the hull.

What the… frak…

Two things he thought of: the replicators were preparing an FTL jump- to where he had no idea- or using the core to build more bugs. He couldn't fathom what these things were doing to the core. The energy from the big bug seemed to move towards the core… it had to be an FTL jump. A massive one, but to where?

He could hear the bugs coming. He could hear them chirping and squawking as they rampaged through Galactica, consuming her and replicating. They had him in their sights. He knew that. He knew that this would be the last.

And he could see replicators scurrying around the bulkheads, racing towards him from the drive core.

He sucked in a breath, held it and then released it slowly. In those few seconds he felt calm.

He snorted. He'd given those fraking machines a true, honest to the Lords of Kobol, fight. He'd unleash carnage on them.

Dozens, maybe hundreds- he wanted to think hundreds- had been blasted to pieces by his bullets. But he was out of bullets for his rifle now. In a minute now…

Adama stared at his arm again, how wrecked it was and how broken he felt. He managed to pull himself up and he fell back to a knee. His ankle was broken, his knee twisted. He didn't say a word. He barred his teeth and pulled off the backpack.

He let the rifle lay where it'd fallen. He was out of ammunition anyway. He took out his pistol and felt its weight in his hand. It felt good. It felt right.

His ears ticked. He heard replicators. Adama unzipped the backpack and took out the manual detonator. He checked his watch. He still had a little time…

"We gotta jump, now Starbuck!" Kelly yelled.

"I'm trying!" Starbucked shouted back. "I have no gods' damned idea where we are. If we jumped without a reference we could end up any-fraking-where-"

People were yelling in the raptor. People were afraid and crying. The woman with burns had passed out and Tyrol and Cally were applying first aide as best they could.

"Just jump, we'll figure it out later!" Tyrol yelled.

"We're too close to Galactica-"

The star fields were completely unknown to any of them. Starbuck's eyes latched onto a green-blue nebula as it swirled in the distance… light years away. Birthplace of stars. Birthplace of planets. Life.

It was beautiful… it was-

"STARBUCK!"

"I know Felix. I'm trying to…" Starbuck trailed off as a dozen massive flashes appeared around them. DRADIS wailed. "Oh… my… gods…"

Cylons.

Baseships.

"No… it's impossible… we didn't survive this to be killed by them!" Gaeta yelled.

Captain Kelly was in the co-pilot's seat. He activated weapons. "We have… two missiles…" he looked towards Starbuck. "Can we jump?"

Starbuck bashed the console with a fist. "No…" DRADIS blared. "They're moving in!"

"It's not fraking fair!" Gaeta protested. "No…" his protest was so weak Starbuck barely heard him as he gave up and slouched against the rear of the cockpit.

She felt her chest heave. The pressure was insurmountable. To survive that and to be killed by this… the baseships closed in. DRADIS whined as fighters were launched. A massive baseship unlike any scene before moved within mere kilometers.

It hovered over them. It was taunting them. They were too insignificant compared to the behemoth staring them down.

Starbuck prayed one final prayer. She didn't pray for a miracle. She prayed for forgiveness.

She kept her eyes open. She would face her end.

Starbuck never felt more determined, never felt everything was so right as she jammed the throttle forward. "Frak this. If we're going down, we're taking something with us!" The raptor's sudden acceleration jammed them all back into their seats. Gaeta went falling backwards into the passenger compartment.

Kara Thrace's upper lip curled into a snarl as the raptor neared the baseship…

The raptor was painted, targeted. DRADIS yelped. But she flew forward, straight, and would not waver. She would show the Cylons her resolve…

She saw blue swirls and vortices to her left, above the Cylon formation. Things came out.

Cylons baseships began to explode.

There was a bright white light.

Galactica disappeared in a massive nuclear explosion.

And then there was darkness.

Commander Adama would die on his feet. He swore he would die on his feet staring down these monsters.

He stood. Pain burned through his body. He sucked it up.

He activated the nuclear warhead. Fifteen seconds.

Replicators fell through the hole and onto the cat walk.

He stared them down. They wanted the nuke. They wanted to save Galactica. Destroy the galaxy.

They lunged.

He fell backwards off the railing, clutching the backpack and holding onto the nuke.

Replicators jumped after him.

He fell towards the bottom of the drive core.

The replicators were splayed outwards, coming towards him, falling towards him, but moving so slowly…

He could feel the strange effects of the exotic energies of the core as they manipulated gravity and warped reality.

Adama felt a sensation, something he'd never felt before. He saw Carolanne, he saw Zak and Lee. He saw his sister, his father, his mother, his uncle. He saw them all. He smiled and released his hold on the nuke.

The light was so bright…

AN: And that concludes Part 1 of Dust of the Stars.

Thank you all very much for reading. There will be a Part 2 with some material posted to push the time line up a bit. Some flashbacks and whatnot.

Please leave a review and tell me what you thought. Reviews concerning how the story has progressed, anything that may need to be worked on in part 2 (pacing, character development, who you all like to read about/don't like to read about) let me know.

Spartan was a massive help in getting these last chapters out. Both Spartan and Dusel have been great at bouncing ideas off of and reading over material.

I can't give an exact time for when Part 2 will be up. But I've been working on it here and there with the first few chapters. Things are going to change and start moving fast for a lot of characters. I'd also expect to see some more Commander Cain, a bit more SG1, and some of the other canon characters.

Thank you all again for sticking through these many hundreds of thousands of words.