Battlestar

***

Benjy is constantly checking his surroundings, one eye on the plasma weapon's charging status, when the feeling of dread suddenly returns, with a vengeance. He immediately checks his threat screen, nothing shows, then a call on the group frequency shakes him up, "Red flight Blue squadron calling, we just got jumped by at least a dozen bogies, we are running and they don't seem able to keep up with us." He swallows, red flight blue squadron is Helga's outfit, Run girl, he thinks, while his stomach clenches. "We are one ship down," the voice continues, then the woman audibly loses it, "They got Red Two, they got Bunny."

He feels his stomach churn, and calls up the deployment plan. Blue squadron had been the unit deployed deepest into this fucking mess, Storm is Bunny's flight leader. He taps his mike, "Scorpion calling Storm, what was Bunny's last position and vector?" It takes long seconds for her reply to come in, he quickly feeds the information into the navcomp. It looks hopeless, it is hopeless, for pilots living by the rules, luckily he got his wings before they invented those rules.

He switches to the group frequency next, "Lieutenant Commander Arundel here, she's too far inside, there's nothing anyone of you can do, retreat at full speed as ordered. I'm going to blow the wreck now." The plasma weapon's display blinks 'armed', and he fires up the Hurricane's short range hyperdrive, it's charged and ready. Then he does what every pilot nowadays learns NOT to do, he starts plotting an FTL course inside the system, way inside the local star's hyper limit.

It's the only way to get to Helga before it's too late though, so fuck the rules. Plotting a course soon proves near impossible though, due to the complex ever shifting gravity and debris puzzle the system is. He ends up overriding the system, putting in some 'best guess' data here and there. You're crazy, he thinks, you should accept she's gone, take the slow route, make fucking sure you finish her by blowing up her fighter, and then try to save your own ass.

Her face appears before his mind's eye, and he feels tears form in the corners of his eyes. Helga's face morphs into that of Alfhild, the former love of his live smiling reassuringly. Looking at the plot he realizes that if this goes wrong his re-entry is bound to cause an explosion so large it will take out anything within a considerable distance, including any disabled Hellcat fighters that might be floating nearby. His mind eases; if he miscalculates the three of them will be drinking beer in Valhalla together.

He engages the manual override of the hyper drive, which will enable him to correct the plotted course on the fly, then takes aim at the wrecks dormant M.A.M. reactor and fires. The plasma bolt digs deep into the wreck, vaporizing the reactors containment field generators. He watches the chain reaction start, then whips the Hurricane around to the plotted course, Here goes nothing, he thinks, engaging the hyperdrive. Behind him the wreck silently blossoms into a growing ball of super-heated plasma as all the anti-matter remaining inside its reactor converts its mass into energy.

***

The Scourge fighters had stopped following them as soon as they neared the edge of the system. Elise had felt awful leaving the system behind, they hadn't just lost a squadron mate, their squadron mate was going to be infested, and then experience a slow and agonizing death. Forming up with the rest of the squadron again a Royal Navy pilot with the call sign 'Snake' contacts her. "Don't worry," he says on the private channel, "Scorpion didn't ask you for her last position and vector for nothing. He's going to take care of her."

"He'll never get there in time to save her," she replies.

"I never said he would," the answer comes.

She feels like lashing out at him, even starts too, then the tone of his voice registers, it tells her Bunny's fate hurts him too, she just swallows the rest of her reply. So an Imp with the call sign Scorpion is going to try to help Helga out of her misery, risking his own hide in the process, that means something, doesn't it? In the privacy of her cockpit tears start running from her eyes, she really really liked Lieutenant Korobitsyna.

***

Helga watches the cocooning process that had started at the tail of her fighter slowly crawl forward towards her cockpit. Once the cocooning is completed the larva will be sent into the Hellcat. It'll find her, paralyze her, penetrate her lower body through her anus, then the long suffering will start. She's half in shock by now, then her eyes are drawn towards a bright red spot blossoming a short distance away over her port bow.

She knows what she's looking at, yet can't believe it. A re-entry point is forming, way inside the local star's hyper limit, its reddish color indicating huge gravitational imbalances. You're going insane, it only takes a fraction of a second before a small craft explodes from its center, its surfaces shedding clouds of super-heated plasma. It curves towards her position in a mind boggling tight turn, the three Wraiths surrounding her disengage, but they are too late. She recognizes the craft's familiar shape a fraction of a second before its' cannon totally shred one of the Scourge fighters trying to get away, it's a Hurricane!

The Royal Navy fighter blazes past, the remaining two Wraiths start to accelerate hard in its wake, their green exhausts blazing. She watches them move away, in the distance three additional green exhausts light up. She releases her harness, floats further up in her cockpit, checks the surroundings for more activating Scourge craft, there are none, at least not within her field of vision, the Mark I eyeball can't look through the Hellcat's belly.

The two Wraiths that had been cocooning her fighter break off their hopeless pursuit and now move to join up with the other three. It's still an impossible five to one, but before they manage to actually join up a pair of missiles rush in and turn them into expanding debris clouds. Three remaining! She feels hope, the other Scourge fighters release half a dozen missiles in return. With her heart in her throat she watches them converge on the lone Hurricane, which breaks away hard at the last moment, spitting countermeasures.

Half a dozen blue spheres blossom, grabbing at the speeding Hurricane, but failing. As she watches the Hurricane launches another four missiles, emptying its weapons bay. The Wraiths start to evade in turn, but still two of the four missiles find their targets, and another two Scourge fighters are turned into blossoming clouds of fire and debris. The Hurricane closes on the last one remaining now, which in response launches two missiles down its throat.

The range is close, the Hurricane doesn't evade, it accelerates instead, the missiles reaching it just seconds after launch. She flinches, but the missiles don't explode. She watches them pass the imperial fighter awfully close by, then explode harmlessly in its wake. They didn't arm in time! The Hurricane spews return fire; its cannon bolts don't need time to arm themselves, they leave their barrels primed and ready. She watches the salvo shred the last remaining Wraith to bits.

The Hurricane sways for a moment, then stabilizes, comes around and starts to close fast on her position. Flipping around at the last moment it comes to a blazing stop just meters above her cockpit. She now wonders how its pilot is planning to get her dead Hellcat out of here, as far as she knows Hurricane's don't come equipped with a tractor beam projector. Even if they did, towing is a slow process; they would never make it out of the system without the Scourge catching up with them.

Still he must have a plan to get her out somehow: why else come back for her. As she watches the scorched belly of the Hurricane its weapons bay opens, and out comes this small disc shaped remote repair drone. It moves down towards her cockpit, and ends up hovering next to it. It takes her a second or two to grasp what it's doing, but once she does, she quickly buckles up again and checks her suit. The damn thing is activating the outside emergency hood release mechanism, which will still work, because it's mechanical.

The cockpit roof first lifts out of its seals, air escaping, turning into a white cloud of freezing moisture. The clamps holding down the cockpit roof next disengage entirely and it starts to float slowly away. The drone appears above her, and extends its main manipulating arm. By now she's grasped the plan: she's to move inside the Hurricane's weapons bay, but does he know her emergency air supply will never last for the entire trip back to Pacifica? And even if he's mad enough to hyper out of here, his drive will still need more time to recharge than she has left.

The drone wiggles nervously, clearly urging her. It's right of course, more Scourge could arrive at any moment. She unbuckles, uncouples her helmet umbilical first, then her air hose, grabs the drone's extended arm, and slowly pushes herself up out of the cockpit. The drone's little thrusters work hard, moving her over to the gaping bay above them. As she comes close she notices the Hurricane's scorched skin still radiates heat. As soon as she can reach them she grabs one of the now empty missile clamps.

The drone circles around her, and she watches its arm reach out and flip open a small panel located in the roof of the weapons bay, revealing a small compartment. It puzzles her for a moment, until she notices the triangular yellow warning symbol next to it. The drone lights the inside of the small compartment, revealing a familiar looking valve connector that probably got standardized on Earth a zillion years ago, long before man reached for the stars. She pulls herself up inside the weapons bay, and the doors start to close behind her immediately, the last thing she sees are some faint green specks against the black of space.

Once the doors are fully closed the locking mechanism engages, and by that time she has managed to couple up her air hose. There's a barely audible click in the back of her helmet, with its electronics dead it is the only indication she has that she's now connected to the Hurricane's air supply. The drone has nested itself again; its electronic eye seems to be locked on her faceplate. The next thing she notices is acceleration, and lots of it, as her feet slam against the bay's aft bulkhead. Either the acceleration compensators are out, or he's really hauling ass - she suspects the latter.

***

The whole flight back has been awful, Elise can't stop criticizing herself for not keeping Helga on a tighter reign. The girl had been too eager, she should have been stricter with her, Fuck! Their flight is the last to land, when she gets out of the cockpit the atmosphere is bad, everyone is depressed. She walks over towards where the Royal Navy pilots are huddling together, something neither she, nor anyone else from her wing, has ever done before. They seem as depressed as her own people are, "Which of you is Snake?" she asks.

One of them turns towards her, "That would be me."

He's a bit short for a Nordican, but still taller than she herself is, "I'm Storm," she says, "I'm sorry I started taking it out on you."

He shrugs, "You're excused, it isn't easy losing a mate that way."

She nods, "Thank you. Any news from Scorpion yet?"

He shakes his head, "No, maybe he's experiencing comm problems, or maybe..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, Elise swallows, "Whatever the outcome, we owe you guys one."

He seems to think for a moment, "No," he says, "Not after what happened today, we all knew her, we are one unit now, no one owes anyone anything anymore."

She doesn't know what to answer, an alarm blares, someone comes running up to them. "Benjy's coming in," he shouts, "He reported damage, a medical emergency, and has asked for a complete detox."

She watches the emergency teams deploy, six men in haz-mat suits quickly set up their field projectors in the center of the wing's landing area. A half sphere of shimmering green light rises from the projectors, big enough to hold a fighter. Only seconds later he comes in, way faster than the automated landing system would allow for, "Fuck, he's on manual," one of the nearby Royal Navy pilots half whispers.

The Hurricane looks badly scorched, primarily bare metal and composites covered in soot. All of its external antenna are missing, burnt off by the looks of it. That explains him coming in on manual, and also the comm silence: only his local comm will still be working. The Hurricane looks like it has gone to hell and back, it slows down at the last moment, slides smoothly inside the force field and touches down. She can hear its power-core spooling down, the cockpit opens and out climbs the pilot with the call sign 'Scorpion', all limbs still firmly attached by the looks of it.

Around her the Royal Navy pilots sigh, relieved, she envies them, and it seems to make her own loss register even more painfully. She watches Scorpion drop down on the deck, then move underneath his scorched Hurricane, pulling levers. A moment later the fighter's weapons bay doors slowly slide open, and out rolls this large bundle he catches in his arms. He steps back and turns, she can't believe her eyes as he lowers his catch onto her feet, a stunned silence descends on the bay.

The haz-mat team moves in through the force field, checks both pilots with their sensor prods. A minute later the force field blinks out, declaring to everyone that nothing unwanted has been detected. They both remove their flight helmets, and she watches Helga simply drop hers on the deck, then move up against Scorpion, and close her arms around him, visibly crying. He reacts by dropping his helmet too, and closing his arms around her too, the whole bay erupts with loud cheering.

The haz-mat team moves away, picking up the field projectors. Everyone else closes in now, but the med team reaches them first, their presence keeping the crowd at bay. They are finished quickly with the large Imp, though take somewhat longer with Helga. By the time they are finished with her Elise has elbowed herself to the front. "You're both okay," she hears the head medic declare. That's when Helga turns pale, starts to shake, then collapses as her slender legs give out.

Scorpion clearly was ready for it, and scoops her up before she has the chance to drop. She immediately clings to him, burying her face against his chest, "It's alright Helga," she hears him say, "You're safe now."

One of the medics gets out an injector, pushes it against her exposed neck and injects her, then turns towards the gathered crowd, "Give them some room please, she's suffering from psychological shock. It'll go away, but she needs rest and a bit of time." He then turns towards the lieutenant commander holding Helga, "Shall we get her on a stretcher, or are you going to carry her to sickbay?" he jests.

She watches as Helga clamps herself onto her rescuer; the big man grins, "The lady prefers to be carried."

Elise watches him move off with Helga in his arms, suddenly feeling faint herself as the terrible dread she had felt from the moment Helga's fighter got disabled evaporates. A strong arm closes around her slim waist, "I got you," a soft voice she recognizes as 'Snake' whispers.

The Warrior

The sedative works fast, and she's asleep in his arms long before he reaches sickbay. Two female medics are waiting there for him, and lead the way to one of the many rooms. There are three beds inside, the medics point him towards the middle one. He starts to explain what happened to Helga while walking over to the bed. The older one, a commander, stops him, "The med team logged her file already. She's suffering from post-traumatic shock. They gave her something to relax her: she'll probably sleep for a day."

He tries to put Helga down on the bed, but she clings to him, even in her sleep. The medics smile, each taking one of her hands, and gently prying her fingers loose. The girl mewls softly in her sleep, "She sure likes you..," the younger medic whispers with a smile.

He feels himself blush, "I was just the one closest by."

The older medic lifts an eyebrow, "That still doesn't explain you carrying her in, and her clinging to you like this."

They start hooking her up to the console next to the bed, "Something wrong?" he asks, the anxiety in his voice even surprising himself."

The older medic smiles, "No, it's just a precaution, standard procedure, we just don't take any chances."

He stands back, Fuck, you're acting like an enamored teenager.

The older medic grins, "You're a bit of an open book, Lieutenant Commander." He doesn't know what to answer, "You two an item?" she asks.

He feels himself stiffen, "No.., why.., I'm much to old for her."

The younger medic, who looks to be about Helga's age, throws him a surprised look from across the bed, "You aren't Sir, just take my word for it."

The older Medic standing next to him takes him by an arm and turns him towards the door, "Well, we're going to get the Lieutenant out of her suit now, and with the two of you not being an item that means you'll now have to leave."

***

Benjy walks out of the room on auto-pilot, the hatch closing with a soft whoosh behind him. His thoughts are a mess. Yes, he likes her. Yes, he's attracted to her. But that wasn't why he risked his hide to save her. Wasn't it, Benjy? He swallows, anyway, she made perfectly clear she isn't even interested in talking to him these past weeks. She didn't cling to you, she clung to the man who saved her life. Once the shock has passed she'll be embarrassed as hell, and half the fighter group witnessed what happened.

He doesn't really expect for the euphoria he just witnessed in the hangar bay to last, and once the earlier animosity between his people and hers returns she'll be the girl that got cozy with 'the enemy'. Then there's still the shock, he has to help her get through it, make sure she gets back on her feet again. If she doesn't get back inside a cockpit soon she might never fly again, he has seen it happen before. So he finds himself walking over to the 647th wing's pilot quarters, where he receives a warm welcome from a small group of federation pilots.

After having accepted their thanks, and having been pumped for information about how he managed to save Bunny, he asks them where he can find the commander of Bunny's flight. One of them, a young guy named Jason, offers to show him the way. Following him through the corridors he learns he's the third man in Helga's flight, and what exactly happened to them when the Scourge attacked. He curses inside, she had acted impulsively, and nearly gotten herself killed.

When they arrive at her flight leader's quarters Jason announces him through the com panel, "Lieutenant Reeves? There's a visitor for you."

The hatch opens almost immediately, Helga's flight leader looks to be in her late twenties, so she's just a couple years older than Helga herself. The young woman is still suited up too, she blinks surprised, "Lieutenant Commander..," she steps aside, "Please come in Sir."

He does as asked, and the hatch whooshes close behind him. "Is everything okay with Helly?" she asks before he can say anything.

"Yes," he answers, she sighs relieved, then her face darkens. "You're angry," he notes.

She shrugs, "Yes, I'm angry with myself." He raises his eyebrows, "Helga was too inexperienced, and too eager. I should have kept a better eye on her. And then I failed to get her out of there. I failed her badly."