Rascal and his unit returned to the secret prison early the next day. Other teams searched the surrounding buildings. Rascal was eager to continue the investigation. He finally had something to occupy his thoughts. Perhaps they would find answers, answers to explain how the horrible massacre occurred, and to learn why the civilian government let the siege happen. Some Marines had begun to count the number of bodies near the city walls. They couldn't come up with a precise figure but they thought they could get a fair estimate of the total number. Early estimates put the death toll at about 40 percent of the total pre-siege civilian population of the city, and untold casualties in the smaller settlements scattered across Pergamos. They could only guess at the death rate among the Marines from the Pergamos base. Possibly all of them.
Rascal's unit searched the upper floors of the prison building. They found no other bodies there so they proceeded to the ground level. A stairwell led to the basement level. The Marines discovered passageways leading to even lower underground levels, but they decided to scout the main basement level first.
They found several small rooms, each containing the bodies of more dead Marines. Rascal examined the bodies, looking for signs of torture. He stood in melancholic contemplation, wondering what it must have been like for these Marines, fellow fighting men and women, his compatriots. Did the civilians kill them, their brothers in arms? The thought was almost too horrible to consider.
Rascal heard a faint noise on the other side of a wall. It sounded like... yes, it was a barely audible moan. Rascal burst out of the room and ran down the hallway. He found the room, the only one with a living prisoner, another Marine. He showed signs of malnutrition and dehydration. He was bruised and bloodied. He wore only a tattered pair of pants and torn shoes.
The stench of human waste and blood hit Rascal almost as if it were a physical force. Unlike the punch of a fist or the butt of a gun, the foul air reached deep into Rascal's sinuses, along his olfactory nerve and into his limbic brain system. Rascal fought off the powerful urge to cover his face or to flee from the impending danger that his brain sensed was near.
The shackled Marine recoiled in terror at the sight of Rascal. Rascal tried to reassure the Marine that he was there to help. The Marine cowered to the far wall, as far as his restraints would allow. Rascal put down his machine gun to show that he meant no harm. The other Marines entered the room. Rascal signaled for them to stand down. Soon, they too recognized the fragile psyche of the prisoner.
Rascal asked the other Marines to leave. Perhaps the prisoner was intimidated at being in the room with four other people. Rascal suggested they continue their search. If the prisoner spoke, he would contact them. Rascal waited patiently for the prisoner to come to his senses.
"We're Marines just like you. We're here to help."
Rascal would have removed the shackles but each time he approached, the prisoner experienced another panic attack.
After the better part of an hour had passed, the prisoner looked at Rascal. Rascal had nodded off, tired from waiting around.
"Marine," he whispered. No reaction from Rascal. "Sir... sir!"
Rascal awoke with a start. He looked around and saw the prisoner. "Oh, it's you. Ready to speak now, I see."
"You must get out while you still can. They will take you."
"What? Get out from where? Here? Yeah, we weren't thinking of staying here forever."
"They will take you."
"Who?"
"They. The evil ones. The civilians. Cormorante. And the sympathizers."
Rascal's eyes widened as he took in the information. Cormorante, the territorial governor? The civilians and sympathizers?
"We have to get you out of here and then we have to report this to our commanding officer."
Rascal called the other Marines over the radio and asked them to return to the holding cell. They entered the room while Rascal was trying to break the prisoner's shackles.
"Tyler, we need to cut the cable down there. We can take care of the wrist restraints back at camp."
"Can we burn through it? It looks like a woven metal cable inside a protective plastic sheath."
"Yeah, get out the propane torch. It's not powerful but it should be enough for the cable."
After a few minutes, the prisoner was freed. Rascal noticed that the cable had been attached to a pair of wires inside the floor. Rascal picked up his machine gun and advised the others to do the same.
Rascal helped the freed prisoner to his feet. Two of the Marines walked into the hallway, weapons drawn and ready. Suddenly a flash of light on metal shone in their eyes. A Cylon Centurion directly in front of them!
The Marines opened fire. The sound of machine guns in the enclosed space of an interior hallway was deafening, but the Marines continued to shoot. The Centurion didn't stand a chance. The metallic Cylon slumped against the wall before falling down face first upon the hard concrete floor.
The Marines remained on guard in case there were more Cylons in the building. They listened and watched, the air leaden with tension. No sounds, at least no metallic sounds. They heard footsteps nearby. The sound grew louder. They had to be human, possibly other Marines coming to assist after hearing the gunfire.
At the end of the hall, some civilians appeared. They were in relatively good health. They were also armed with pistols and shotguns. The Marines were relieved that they weren't Cylons, but they didn't relax completely. There was something about their demeanor, the steady manner in which they walked toward the Marines...
"Tyler, something's not right here."
"Quiet. Let's see what --"
Tyler's sentence was cut off by a burst of gunfire from the civilians. One of the Marines was hit in the chest and collapsed to the floor. The other Marines took cover.
Tyler shouted out, "Hey! Hold it. We're Colonial Marines! Hold your fire. We don't want to shoot any humans!"
"Frak you, traitors! Betrayers of humanity! People like you caused the Cylons to attack us," the civilians yelled out.
"What the frak, Tyler? Why are they shooting at us?"
"Damn them! It sounds like sympathizers. Get on the radio and call for back-up."
Rascal arrived at the position with his machine gun. He also brought along some grenades.
"Tyler, stand back. Let's see how they like chomping on a few of these."
"Rascal, those are humans down there, not Cylons."
"Yeah, I know, but Cormorante is behind it all. He's a sympathizer. They all are, the government, the followers. We have to take them out. It's them or us."
"I can't argue with that," Tyler said as the civilians continued to fire away.
Rascal pulled the pin and tossed a grenade down the hall. The explosion tore a chunk of concrete from a wall. Tyler and the Marines resumed firing. Rascal threw another grenade at the civilians. Another explosion.
All was quiet in the hallway. Rascal waited for the dust and smoke to settle. A voice interrupted the silence.
"Scalliant, please report your location."
Rascal spoke into his radio. He described the building and nearby landmarks.
"We'll be there shortly."
Rascal's heart was racing and pumping so hard that he thought his chest would burst. The situation was getting worse and worse. Who was their enemy? The Cylons. And the civilians? But not all of them.
The government? Yes. The sympathizer militia? Yes. Who else? The next time he encountered a civilian on patrol, Rascal would have to determine if he was friend or foe. Who else, indeed.
A few minutes later, several teams of Marines arrived. The senior officer agreed that they needed to scout the remaining floors of the building and take care of any threats. Rascal's team would continue to explore the lower levels. The other teams searched the remaining sections of the building as well as adjoining structures. Two Marines brought the freed prisoner to the main lobby of the building to keep him out of harm's way.
After regaining their composure, Rascal's team walked through the subterranean chambers and passageways. Some of the holding cells contained more dead bodies. Other rooms were protected by heavy cast-iron doors. The Marines continued down to the third basement level. The hallway was much wider than those in the upper levels. All of the team members recognized that this area was more significant than the holding cells. Perhaps this was a headquarters for the Cylons or the sympathizers. Maybe a laboratory or planning facility. Whatever it was, the place was abandoned, except for the corpses.
Rascal spotted a steel and glass door. He tried to open it, but the door would not give way. Tyler saw another door at the far end of the corridor. Rascal looked over as Tyler reached for the handle. Rascal saw a small flashing red light.
"No! Don't touch it! Tyler!"
Tyler was startled by Rascal's shout. His hand grazed the door handle. He heard a high-pitched beeping noise and a low whir. The noise became louder and louder.
"Get out of here! Now!" Rascal yelled.
The Marines raced down the hall. Rascal reached the stairs as the explosives went off. The rapidly expanding burst of flames quickly consumed the third basement level. Rascal kept on running, jumping two steps at a time. His left foot hit the side of the stairwell, causing his knee to twist awkwardly. Rascal felt a sharp twinge of pain shoot through his leg, and yet he didn't stop.
He heard the roar of the flames below. He felt the burning heat. He ran and he jumped until he reached the lobby. He shouted for everyone to run. Run outside. As though their lives depended on it.
From a safe distance, the Marines watched as the building crumbled to the ground. The upper floors toppled over as the support structure was demolished. A cloud of dust rose into the air, to take the place of the building that was, that had been.
***
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