puszysty

Skulls was saying something about “doesn’t this remind you of…”, probably telling that story about dodging space rocks near that tilium mine they’d captured from the cylons a while back. He’d told the story a million times now, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t all been there to begin with. Racetrack wasn’t really paying attention though. She was more concerned with the asteroid that seemed to be headed their way.

“Break left!” Racetrack yelled, as she realized the asteroid was not about to divert from their path.

The raptor veered left, but not soon enough to avoid the asteroid completely. The ship jerked, indicating they’d been hit. Then the censors went off.

“Frak me!” shouted Racetrack. “Our landing gear is ruined. Marine squad, you can forget about getting into the Colony now.”

“Any way to fix it?” asked Skulls.

“Not unless you feel like taking a space walk in this,” replied Racetrack. Given the rate of asteroids flying by their heads, that would be a no. This might have been a suicide mission, but it didn’t have to be futile.

“We should probably turn off those nukes then. We’re going to have to make a crash landing on Galactica, and I’d rather not blow the old bucket up in the process,” said Skulls, reaching for the button that controlled the nukes.

Racetrack stopped him. “Keep em hot.” She’d been considering something like this since they’d gotten word of the mission. Any return to Galactica meant a return to prison, leading a miserable life while the toasters ran things around the fleet. This was her last chance to do something that was going to mean anything in their now futile existance. No way she was going to let it slip by.

Skulls gave her a puzzled look, or at least that what she assumed he was doing, since she was still watching for asteroids. “Admiral said this was a suicide mission, right? Well, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Racetrack could hear protesting from the marines, but she didn’t give a damn about them. They weren’t the ones trying to pilot a broken ship. She also outranked them all, so the tactical decisions were hers.

“What are you saying?” asked Skulls.

“Once Galactica jumps out of here, or we get the signal that the mission’s failed, we’re going to crash this raptor into the Colony and blow those toasters straight to hell.”

“You think it’s gonna work?” asked Skulls.

“Damn well better,” said Racetrack. “We’ve got six nukes, and if the cylons have got any, it’ll set off a chain reaction. Toasters won’t even have time to kiss their asses goodbye.”

“Your call lieutenant. Nukes are hot and ready to go.”

Skulls made the call into Galactica to inform them of the plan, while Racetrack bided her time avoiding another hit that might frak up her plan. She supposed her life should be flashing before her eyes, or whatever it was that happened right before you knew you were going to die. But she’d always flown as a dead man walking, and now that she actually was, it didn’t seem to make a difference. Besides, she was about to get what she had always wanted: to die a hero.