Carta's End
By Gregg Eshelman
January 6, 2000

This story is set on one of the Colonial worlds after the fleet left.
There are many people left on the colonies, some of the estimates
run as high as 8 or 9 billion spread over the 12 worlds. They fight on,
hoping to drive the Cylons off at least one world or to cause them
so much damage that they pull back long enough for them to regroup.
Hope that help may come from an outside agent has long since fled for
most of the survivors.

     The raid hadn't gone quite as planned. An extra squad of centurions
had been posted at the armory the day before and the resistor's recon
had missed it.
     Carta had stayed to provide cover fire as the survivors retreated.
He couldn't run since he had taken a shot from a cylon blaster rifle in
his left leg. He lay there as quiet as he was able, waiting for the
patrols to either pass by or return to their posts so he could try
and get to better cover. Unbidden, his thoughts flashed back a centar
to when he was wounded; "Carta! Stay here. We'll try to get a team
back to pick you up!" Aren had yelled as they tried in vain to press
the raid to its objective. It was only a few more centons until it
was clear they had to retreat. Now Carta lay there in pain, hoping
that _something_ would happen soon, either the rescue team's
arrival or being found by the Cylons. He was beginning to not care
which.
     He snapped awake with a start, catching himself before he sat up.
"Stupid," he thought. "Sit right up so they can blast your head off."
"I'm losing it. Loss of blood, I'm getting delerious. I hope they
get here soon." Now he heard what had awoken him, the signature
whooming sound of the cylon's eye scanners and their thudding gait.
The sound got louder, he tensed, holding his blaster ready, determined
to take one with him. "Little good that will do." was his grim thought.
     The noise got quieter, the search patrol moved away. He relaxed
as much as he was able. Finally he had to put the blaster down and
grasp his right wrist with his left hand, the pressure was building
up again from the old injury. He knew that with a certain twist
of his hand the pressure would ease but it always made a *crack*
loud enough to startle anyone who didn't know about it. Certainly
enough noise to alert any cylon within a hundred metrons. Carta's
mood had swung back to where he didn't want to die and he began
to hope again for rescue.
     "Carta! You be careful with the woodcutter! I don't want to
have to haul you off to the medic with you all chopped to bits. You
hear me?"
     "Yes mother! I'll be careful."
     Not two centons later he was finished with his project. He turned
off the woodcutter and examined the smooth edges of the board.
Carelessly he set the board on the table and the still spinning blade
WHANGED into the fingers of his right hand, ringing like a gong.
     His wounded leg twitched as he slept, skuffling a few pebbles.
A cylon paused, calculated that the noise had a high probability
of being caused by a small animal and continued the precise
search pattern.
     *CRACK*
     "Ewwww! Don't do that!"
     "Sorry, Dima. Its this old woodcutter injury. I have to do that
or it starts to hurt like sticking it in a clamp."
     "Well stop doing it around me. Cutting up this amphoid for
bioclass makes me sick enough."
     Just for spite he made his wrist crack again. Dima playfully
swatted him on the shoulder. "You had better get 'cracking'
on your amphoid dissection or the instructor will be cracking
you over the head!"
     A slight smile formed on his lips as he dreamt about Dima,
sweet, beautiful Dima. Dima of his thoughts, night and day.  Dima
who had gone to Academy while his injury had kept him out of the
military. Dima who had gotten sealed to another man. Dima who now
lay dead with the three billion others who had been slaughtered
on this world.
     He stirred from sleep again, weakened, unable to concentrate.
The thoughts of Dima had disturbed him. "Why her? Why Dima when
there have been so many others?"
     "I can't think straight, my ears are roaring."
     "Damn wrist hurts."
     *CRACK*
     "Oh frack!"
     He didn't make it to his blaster.

The End