At the controls of the lead raptor of the formation, Sykes keyed the wireless, “Keep your intervals and your eyes open, theirs lots of debris in close to the target.”
Two groups of raptors destined to separate insertions points, one of the good flight pods left attached to the Columbia-class battlestar, and the other one to one of the Cylon landing bays. Sykes would lead that latter group of raptors there.
The group of twelve raptors with their fighter escort zoomed toward the debris field and the massive wreck of the two capital ships. The military ships weaved through small bits of debris at first, and then bigger recognizable debris. A shattered Mark II Viper that had broken free long ago from the Battlestar, slowly rotated as it must have for over 40 years, seem to hang overhead as the Colonial formation race by.
“Bravo flight, break.” ordered Sykes on the wireless. Bravo flight made up half of the formation and would go to the Battlestar. “Rest of you stay close, its going to get tight.” He looked back at the squad of regular marines in his ship. “One minute.” he said through his helmet’s microphone, warning them they will be landing soon.
He made a sudden course correction to avoid a half wing of an old Cylon raider. “Heads up, raptor 4!” He warned.
“Frak! Is that a body?” said the co-pilot looking up above through the canopy as the raptor continued toward the landing bay.
“No, that’s frakking robot.” Sykes replied as he slowed down his approach to the designated bay. He pointed, “There is some more over there.” There was a half dozen broken Centurions together hovering in the vacuum.