Ayesha gripped tightly to the stick as her Viper rattled towards what she hoped was salvation and not another Cylon trick, towed by a Civilian Ship, already overloaded by pilots who had ejected and found themselves rescued. The Olympia was gone. Her friends were gone. All she had was the Viper she rode in and a small rag tag group of Raptors and Vipers. Cylons. Myth, Legend, horrible reality.
There were other Vipers in tow, and being reeled in as close as they dared to the Freighter. Their systems had been sliced into. Their power gone. No ability to fight back. Some had been shot out of the sky as soon as they had lost power. Others, had been… lucky… hidden in the floating debris as the Cylon fleet soared over and around them. Many around her, like her, had played dead as the cylon fighters had zoomed by. No use in destroying what was already dead. Her head hurt, and her forehead was sticky. Her viper was badly damaged and it luckily was NOT leaking air. Though she knew her weapons were completely useless and she had no real steering.
All she had was the grip on the rudder and it was more for comfort then anything else. A flash of light signalled as another Viper was reeled in so the pilot could disembark. It would then remain in tow until they got where they were going… hopefully…. salvation. This had been going on for hours. A raptor jumped into the combat zone, hooked a Viper, jumped out and they were placed in tow.
But that had soon ended and now the Raptor had gone, jumping off to the rendezvous while the Civilian Freighter hauled in those who had been meant to save the colonies. Hours passed, her O2 reserves were low as she popped the hatch in the cargo bay of the freighter known as Cyclops. She pulled off her helmet and climbed out of the cockpit with help from several deck hands. She looked around. Pilots were slumped against walls. She sighed. They had to reach salvation soon…..