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ficlet spam
Of course, as true penance for breaking my promise, I will write porn later.
Disclaimer: not mine.
Fandoms: SG: Atlantis, BSG 2003, SG-1, Farscape, Ghost in the Shell, possibly others? I don't know.
Spoilers: everything that was on US tv last year--June 2006 was the date on the days these were in.
Pairings: I'd suspect Kara/Anders to be one of them. Weir/Sheppard, too.
Notes: These are finished and unfinished ficlets and pieces of stories.
She makes herself watch.
The new tech guy in the gateroom made recordings of every one of Kolya's broadcasts.
And she's ashamed that she couldn't watch, at the time. She knows if Kolya had been able to see her, he would have mocked her inability.
It's something she loathes, and so she watches the recordings, pauses them and makes herself see what she allowed to happen.
Elizabeth doesn't lie to herself.
She allowed this to happen. Ladon had no true call on her loyalty. Even John's order wouldn't have swayed her, if she'd simply done the right thing.
In some way, she's responsible for the state John Sheppard was in.
How convenient, for her, that he's back to normal. That she doesn't have to look at his face and see the years added, as if by magic.
-*-
"Sam?"
"Yes, Pete?" Trying not to be irritated, because this was the only chance she was going to get to read this article on imaginary particles, Sam looked up at her fiance. And blinked.
"Like it?" He asked, turning around so she could get the full effect of the leather kilt.
Imaginary particles were suddenly far less interesting. Sam dropped the magazine and stood. "You could say that."
-=-=
The best thing about talking to Batou, or not talking to him, as the case happened, was that the man had enough life experience to intuit that things were bad. And she didn't have to spill secrets that weren't hers to tell.
-=-=-
Lee paid no attention when someone flopped onto the bench next to him. He ignored Boomer's muttered grumbling about the noodles. He'd echo them, but he was CAG, and appearances had to be maintained.
=-=-
"I object."
Most of those assembled turned to eye the newly-minted (and still shiny, for most eyes) President. Dr. Gaius Baltar, for his part, eyed them back with disdain.
"On what grounds?" demanded Major Cottle. The man was an ass, but had apparently lucked into conducting the ceremony.
"What name do you call out now, is it mine? His? Or is still Captain Adama's," Gaius was of the firm belief that Lee Adama was still a puppy, and a captain. He hadn't earned either of his adjustments in rank.
-*-*
"But why is the rum gone?"
"I drank it all."
He tastes like rum and onions and incredibly bad breath. Starbuck decides that kissing him again is pointless. It's not kisses she wants, anyway.
Which is probably for the best, given Captain Jack's utter lack of ability to accomplish even the simplest thing. Kara compares it to her first fumble at fifteen, but decides even then she was better-read on the subject.
----
It's a smell she recognizes.
Underneath the stench of cleaning products, blood and the acid of urine, she can smell a man. There's something dusky about the scent of a man. Something that tugs at the nostrils and lower parts. If she were awake enough, she'd feel her nipples hardening.
Ellen used to joke with her girlfriends that she could smell a man from a mile away.
-==-=
"What are you, the Cylon Imperious Leader?" The tone is mocking, the look challenging.
If she were anyone else... But Leoben looks away, then back. Perhaps there's actually something like hurt in his eyes. "I came back for you, Kara."
She leans forward, as much as the ropes holding her will allow. "That's real special. Your programming told you to come back for me. Cute. Do you do parties, too?"
Regret crosses over his face, and he moves. He doesn't think she can anticipate this blow, but she looks unsurprised as she spits blood. "I--"
"Don't. Don't tell me you're sorry." Her voice is vicious now, "Everything has happened before, remember, Leoben? You told me that. So just get it the frak over with and throw me out the airlock."
"You have a destiny."
"That's my line." And she smiles, tongue coming out to lick the blood away from the side of her mouth.
He should have left her to Simon.
=-=-
Doral thinks it's unfair.
Not that Sharon cares, or wants to really know how he feels. After all, he's never been in love before. She can't help but rib him, though, "No, really, you could be our Imperious Leader. Think about it. All that great PR."
He glares, "I could have crushed your little rebellion. With a few words here, a carefully-spun moment there--"
"But you didn't. And you won't."
She's right.
"Because God loves us. And," she's smirking again, "You're not D'Anna."
---
Starbuck is drunk off her ass and falling over when the cylons attack. The call to action-stations rings loudly through the ship. Around her, pilots and deck crew spring into action. Starbuck just laughs and stays where she is, watching the room spin, just a little.
"Kara!"
"Hey, Lee." She grins stupidly at him, "Come to join the party?"
"I need you in a bird, Kara. Now."
"'M Drunk, Lee." She leans closer, breath wafting out, full of alcohol and cigar smoke. "See? Drunk."
"I can see. I don't care. Cottle gave me special dispensation to use stims when I need to." He holds out a hand, two white pills sitting in the palm. "Take these, you'll be fine in two minutes."
"No. Lee, no. I won't." And Kara is suddenly serious. "You can't put me, drunk and wired into a viper, Lee."
"I can and I will. Or the cylons will kick our ass completely."
"One pilot is not going to make a difference! I'm a liability!"
"DO as you're told, Captain!"
"Sir, yes, sir." She snarls, grabbing the pills from his hand. This is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea.
Helo pops back into the room and grabs her, "C'mon, Kara. Get you to a bunk--"
"No. Flight deck. The CAG insists."
--
Suicide is a sin in the eyes of God.
But she isn't really dying, isn't really going to some place that doesn't exist. She's returning to a new body. Getting a new lease on life.
Just one more, she sometimes thinks. One more, and it will be enough. She'll adjust and be like the others.
Conform.
None of them have realized that she takes the dangerous missions on purpose. That she walks a not-so-fine line until the resistance spots her.
Then the bullets fly.
She can feel every shot she's ever taken tearing through her flesh when she wakes.
Sometimes, she doesn't want to wake fully.
It wasn't until the third time she died that she recognized her own pattern of behavior. Self-destruction is also a sin, in God's eyes.
Waking staring at herself, watching them all welcome her back, she felt a curious sense of dislocation.
I want to die.
She never says it aloud. Never thinks it where they might hear--surface thoughts can become broadcast
Once noticed, the pattern is unavoidable. And hard to conceal. She tries, though. And succeeds more than she thinks she should.
There's no shrink to catch a cylon in the act.
After all, dying in the service of the glorious cause is where it's at.
---
Dude. The 80's music is Bear Mcreary doing Justin Haywood. BSG meets Star Cops. HAHAHAH. OMG. OMG. That would be so frakkin' awesome. Nathan Springer, ambassador of Earth?
-
Nathan Springer was not, in the norm, an impatient man. He wasn't precisely patient, but he did understand that some things took time to do.
However, Pal Kenzy could drive a buddhist monk to murder.
"Kenzy."
She ignored the warning in his tone, and snapped, "I'm just saying that, I don't think it's fair."
"You don't, do you? Well, how would you like me to make you third shift super. Would that suit your need to be in charge?"
"Oh, bloody great. Put your most effective copper on the shift where nothin' happens."
=-
He wasn't the one supposed to die.
Not with his youth, and his inexperience and his exuberance and joy.
It was supposed to be her.
She was slated from the beginning, she fulfilled her role.
She expected to die, expected him to carry on her legacy.
This is the gods' tally, she thinks, sometimes. His life for hers. Her life for his.
It wasn't fair.
Never was, never is, and the rate of attrition never quite stops.
Sometimes, she watches the other children, and almost calculates the kind of adults they'll grow into. None of them come close to him.
=-=-
HAHAHAH. Leela as a member of Caprica's resistance?
"They bleed?" Leela brightened and fingered the hilt of her knife, "Then killing them shall not be hard."
=-=-
Their fourth fight was Kara's fault. Not that she'd admit it.
"Hey." Anders wandered into the room that had been Lee's office and was now hers. He dropped a kiss on her head and eyed the paperwork on the table.
"Hey."
=-=-=
"It's good to know we understand each other, Admiral." Nathan Springer said smoothly.
--
It takes 36 hours to start a revolution.
Not quite down to the second, of course, but Caprica (as they were calling her) knew it was their window.
Five hours into the window, and she was beginning to realize that change takes time.
Change doesn't just happen in five seconds, much less five hours.
"You're not listening."
"They don't want to listen. They're machines, they need logic."
"This isn't logic," she snapped at Gaius, "This is emotion. Revenge is emotion, hatred is illogical."
He tilted his head to the side, "Love is an emotion."
----
Kara showed up for the first morning briefing with a bottle of ambrosia and three glasses. She set them down on the map table and proceeded to pour.
"What the hell is this?" Tigh really sounded cranky as a bear with constipation.
"Just thought I'd start our day off right, sir." Flashing the trademark Starbuck grin, Kara picked up her glass and downed it in one go.
Adama harrumphed. "If we're done here, Starbuck?"
"Yes, sir." Kara looked innocently at him.
--
Two days after the cylons started their occupations, stickers began appearing.
"Don't blame me, I voted for Roslin" was tacked onto tent walls and lamp posts. Stall owners had to remove them before opening business for the day.
Some people snorted, others looked angry. A few seemed to think the stickers were aimed directly at them.
Three marines stated categorically that they had tried to fix the election for Roslin, of course, they were drunk (most of the marines had nothing to do all day, and ambrosia was easier to come by than water). Most didn't believe them, or thought they were just being obnoxious.
-=-
Kara had promised Anders she'd be back for them. It wasn't something she had done lightly, and her word was law (God's word is always law).
But that was then, and this was now. The utter refusal to even entertain the notion of returning to Caprica made her reckless. It made her wonder how much a promise was worth. How good her word was.
There was also an oath taken to defend the articles of colonization. Apollo would know all about that.
Defending the miners, keeping the fleet running, training new pilots only to see them shot down by Scar. By raiders.
Kara wasn't afraid of Scar.
Somewhere, Kat was screaming, telling her to break off. But Scar was Kara's. Scar was going to die by her hand, or she'd die trying.
A strange laugh escaped her.
Boom. Her bullets ripped through Scar, disintegrating the raider into pieces.
Her viper screeched with the stress of fatigued metal as she blew through the cloud of debris that the raider had left behind. Turbulence threw her sideways, then she was tumbling over and around, the viper's engine stuttering on and off.
Chunks of metal and rock surrounded her, the blood of the raider's innards spattering her canopy.
Dust obscured her vision.
Too late, she saw the edge of the asteroid.
"FRAK!"
With no time to eject, she slammed into the rock, her viper screaming, the canopy buckling. The momentum smashed her head sideways, and Kara blacked out.
-
What if Galactica and the fleet had been gone when Kara made it off the moon?
Kara stared at the empty space surrounding the moon. Three passes had shown her nothing. The fleet was gone, running again from the ever-present cylon threat.
Frak.
She'd so hoped that they'd still be there. That Lee, the old man... Lee wouldn't have wanted to leave. The old man, Tigh, Roslin. All of them would probably have understood the expediency of leaving one pilot behind.
One person. Or 50,000. Not a hard decision, by their standards.
It still left her abandoned with no hope and no frakking clue where to go.
She wasn't a frakking navigator, she couldn't even begin to guess where the others had gone. And even then, she had no idea if she could make the raider jump correctly.
An alarm suddenly sounded, and Kara stared out the window as three basestars appeared. "Frak."
Tiny dots launched from them, raiders heading out to swarm the system. Probably searching for their lost patrol. Or the colonials. Not that it mattered.
Kara gave a reckless grin and headed for them, "Let's see how many of your frakkers I can take out."
"Closer..." They didn't seem to notice anything wrong until Kara veered, hand reaching for the ligament she'd squeezed earlier. Three raiders went up in a blaze before they all turned towards her.
"Well, it was nice knowin' ya." Kicking in the drive, Kara aimed for the nearest basestar, intent on taking it out.
A blast shifted her in her perch, and she grabbed a control she hadn't touched before. Her stomach dropped out, the world went sideways, and she couldn't breathe.
Then the sensation was gone, and she was floating over a planet.
"Frak me..."
It was a familiar planet, one she'd seen from space a lot.
Caprica.
Disclaimer: not mine.
Fandoms: SG: Atlantis, BSG 2003, SG-1, Farscape, Ghost in the Shell, possibly others? I don't know.
Spoilers: everything that was on US tv last year--June 2006 was the date on the days these were in.
Pairings: I'd suspect Kara/Anders to be one of them. Weir/Sheppard, too.
Notes: These are finished and unfinished ficlets and pieces of stories.
She makes herself watch.
The new tech guy in the gateroom made recordings of every one of Kolya's broadcasts.
And she's ashamed that she couldn't watch, at the time. She knows if Kolya had been able to see her, he would have mocked her inability.
It's something she loathes, and so she watches the recordings, pauses them and makes herself see what she allowed to happen.
Elizabeth doesn't lie to herself.
She allowed this to happen. Ladon had no true call on her loyalty. Even John's order wouldn't have swayed her, if she'd simply done the right thing.
In some way, she's responsible for the state John Sheppard was in.
How convenient, for her, that he's back to normal. That she doesn't have to look at his face and see the years added, as if by magic.
-*-
"Sam?"
"Yes, Pete?" Trying not to be irritated, because this was the only chance she was going to get to read this article on imaginary particles, Sam looked up at her fiance. And blinked.
"Like it?" He asked, turning around so she could get the full effect of the leather kilt.
Imaginary particles were suddenly far less interesting. Sam dropped the magazine and stood. "You could say that."
-=-=
The best thing about talking to Batou, or not talking to him, as the case happened, was that the man had enough life experience to intuit that things were bad. And she didn't have to spill secrets that weren't hers to tell.
-=-=-
Lee paid no attention when someone flopped onto the bench next to him. He ignored Boomer's muttered grumbling about the noodles. He'd echo them, but he was CAG, and appearances had to be maintained.
=-=-
"I object."
Most of those assembled turned to eye the newly-minted (and still shiny, for most eyes) President. Dr. Gaius Baltar, for his part, eyed them back with disdain.
"On what grounds?" demanded Major Cottle. The man was an ass, but had apparently lucked into conducting the ceremony.
"What name do you call out now, is it mine? His? Or is still Captain Adama's," Gaius was of the firm belief that Lee Adama was still a puppy, and a captain. He hadn't earned either of his adjustments in rank.
-*-*
"But why is the rum gone?"
"I drank it all."
He tastes like rum and onions and incredibly bad breath. Starbuck decides that kissing him again is pointless. It's not kisses she wants, anyway.
Which is probably for the best, given Captain Jack's utter lack of ability to accomplish even the simplest thing. Kara compares it to her first fumble at fifteen, but decides even then she was better-read on the subject.
----
It's a smell she recognizes.
Underneath the stench of cleaning products, blood and the acid of urine, she can smell a man. There's something dusky about the scent of a man. Something that tugs at the nostrils and lower parts. If she were awake enough, she'd feel her nipples hardening.
Ellen used to joke with her girlfriends that she could smell a man from a mile away.
-==-=
"What are you, the Cylon Imperious Leader?" The tone is mocking, the look challenging.
If she were anyone else... But Leoben looks away, then back. Perhaps there's actually something like hurt in his eyes. "I came back for you, Kara."
She leans forward, as much as the ropes holding her will allow. "That's real special. Your programming told you to come back for me. Cute. Do you do parties, too?"
Regret crosses over his face, and he moves. He doesn't think she can anticipate this blow, but she looks unsurprised as she spits blood. "I--"
"Don't. Don't tell me you're sorry." Her voice is vicious now, "Everything has happened before, remember, Leoben? You told me that. So just get it the frak over with and throw me out the airlock."
"You have a destiny."
"That's my line." And she smiles, tongue coming out to lick the blood away from the side of her mouth.
He should have left her to Simon.
=-=-
Doral thinks it's unfair.
Not that Sharon cares, or wants to really know how he feels. After all, he's never been in love before. She can't help but rib him, though, "No, really, you could be our Imperious Leader. Think about it. All that great PR."
He glares, "I could have crushed your little rebellion. With a few words here, a carefully-spun moment there--"
"But you didn't. And you won't."
She's right.
"Because God loves us. And," she's smirking again, "You're not D'Anna."
---
Starbuck is drunk off her ass and falling over when the cylons attack. The call to action-stations rings loudly through the ship. Around her, pilots and deck crew spring into action. Starbuck just laughs and stays where she is, watching the room spin, just a little.
"Kara!"
"Hey, Lee." She grins stupidly at him, "Come to join the party?"
"I need you in a bird, Kara. Now."
"'M Drunk, Lee." She leans closer, breath wafting out, full of alcohol and cigar smoke. "See? Drunk."
"I can see. I don't care. Cottle gave me special dispensation to use stims when I need to." He holds out a hand, two white pills sitting in the palm. "Take these, you'll be fine in two minutes."
"No. Lee, no. I won't." And Kara is suddenly serious. "You can't put me, drunk and wired into a viper, Lee."
"I can and I will. Or the cylons will kick our ass completely."
"One pilot is not going to make a difference! I'm a liability!"
"DO as you're told, Captain!"
"Sir, yes, sir." She snarls, grabbing the pills from his hand. This is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea.
Helo pops back into the room and grabs her, "C'mon, Kara. Get you to a bunk--"
"No. Flight deck. The CAG insists."
--
Suicide is a sin in the eyes of God.
But she isn't really dying, isn't really going to some place that doesn't exist. She's returning to a new body. Getting a new lease on life.
Just one more, she sometimes thinks. One more, and it will be enough. She'll adjust and be like the others.
Conform.
None of them have realized that she takes the dangerous missions on purpose. That she walks a not-so-fine line until the resistance spots her.
Then the bullets fly.
She can feel every shot she's ever taken tearing through her flesh when she wakes.
Sometimes, she doesn't want to wake fully.
It wasn't until the third time she died that she recognized her own pattern of behavior. Self-destruction is also a sin, in God's eyes.
Waking staring at herself, watching them all welcome her back, she felt a curious sense of dislocation.
I want to die.
She never says it aloud. Never thinks it where they might hear--surface thoughts can become broadcast
Once noticed, the pattern is unavoidable. And hard to conceal. She tries, though. And succeeds more than she thinks she should.
There's no shrink to catch a cylon in the act.
After all, dying in the service of the glorious cause is where it's at.
---
Dude. The 80's music is Bear Mcreary doing Justin Haywood. BSG meets Star Cops. HAHAHAH. OMG. OMG. That would be so frakkin' awesome. Nathan Springer, ambassador of Earth?
-
Nathan Springer was not, in the norm, an impatient man. He wasn't precisely patient, but he did understand that some things took time to do.
However, Pal Kenzy could drive a buddhist monk to murder.
"Kenzy."
She ignored the warning in his tone, and snapped, "I'm just saying that, I don't think it's fair."
"You don't, do you? Well, how would you like me to make you third shift super. Would that suit your need to be in charge?"
"Oh, bloody great. Put your most effective copper on the shift where nothin' happens."
=-
He wasn't the one supposed to die.
Not with his youth, and his inexperience and his exuberance and joy.
It was supposed to be her.
She was slated from the beginning, she fulfilled her role.
She expected to die, expected him to carry on her legacy.
This is the gods' tally, she thinks, sometimes. His life for hers. Her life for his.
It wasn't fair.
Never was, never is, and the rate of attrition never quite stops.
Sometimes, she watches the other children, and almost calculates the kind of adults they'll grow into. None of them come close to him.
=-=-
HAHAHAH. Leela as a member of Caprica's resistance?
"They bleed?" Leela brightened and fingered the hilt of her knife, "Then killing them shall not be hard."
=-=-
Their fourth fight was Kara's fault. Not that she'd admit it.
"Hey." Anders wandered into the room that had been Lee's office and was now hers. He dropped a kiss on her head and eyed the paperwork on the table.
"Hey."
=-=-=
"It's good to know we understand each other, Admiral." Nathan Springer said smoothly.
--
It takes 36 hours to start a revolution.
Not quite down to the second, of course, but Caprica (as they were calling her) knew it was their window.
Five hours into the window, and she was beginning to realize that change takes time.
Change doesn't just happen in five seconds, much less five hours.
"You're not listening."
"They don't want to listen. They're machines, they need logic."
"This isn't logic," she snapped at Gaius, "This is emotion. Revenge is emotion, hatred is illogical."
He tilted his head to the side, "Love is an emotion."
----
Kara showed up for the first morning briefing with a bottle of ambrosia and three glasses. She set them down on the map table and proceeded to pour.
"What the hell is this?" Tigh really sounded cranky as a bear with constipation.
"Just thought I'd start our day off right, sir." Flashing the trademark Starbuck grin, Kara picked up her glass and downed it in one go.
Adama harrumphed. "If we're done here, Starbuck?"
"Yes, sir." Kara looked innocently at him.
--
Two days after the cylons started their occupations, stickers began appearing.
"Don't blame me, I voted for Roslin" was tacked onto tent walls and lamp posts. Stall owners had to remove them before opening business for the day.
Some people snorted, others looked angry. A few seemed to think the stickers were aimed directly at them.
Three marines stated categorically that they had tried to fix the election for Roslin, of course, they were drunk (most of the marines had nothing to do all day, and ambrosia was easier to come by than water). Most didn't believe them, or thought they were just being obnoxious.
-=-
Kara had promised Anders she'd be back for them. It wasn't something she had done lightly, and her word was law (God's word is always law).
But that was then, and this was now. The utter refusal to even entertain the notion of returning to Caprica made her reckless. It made her wonder how much a promise was worth. How good her word was.
There was also an oath taken to defend the articles of colonization. Apollo would know all about that.
Defending the miners, keeping the fleet running, training new pilots only to see them shot down by Scar. By raiders.
Kara wasn't afraid of Scar.
Somewhere, Kat was screaming, telling her to break off. But Scar was Kara's. Scar was going to die by her hand, or she'd die trying.
A strange laugh escaped her.
Boom. Her bullets ripped through Scar, disintegrating the raider into pieces.
Her viper screeched with the stress of fatigued metal as she blew through the cloud of debris that the raider had left behind. Turbulence threw her sideways, then she was tumbling over and around, the viper's engine stuttering on and off.
Chunks of metal and rock surrounded her, the blood of the raider's innards spattering her canopy.
Dust obscured her vision.
Too late, she saw the edge of the asteroid.
"FRAK!"
With no time to eject, she slammed into the rock, her viper screaming, the canopy buckling. The momentum smashed her head sideways, and Kara blacked out.
-
What if Galactica and the fleet had been gone when Kara made it off the moon?
Kara stared at the empty space surrounding the moon. Three passes had shown her nothing. The fleet was gone, running again from the ever-present cylon threat.
Frak.
She'd so hoped that they'd still be there. That Lee, the old man... Lee wouldn't have wanted to leave. The old man, Tigh, Roslin. All of them would probably have understood the expediency of leaving one pilot behind.
One person. Or 50,000. Not a hard decision, by their standards.
It still left her abandoned with no hope and no frakking clue where to go.
She wasn't a frakking navigator, she couldn't even begin to guess where the others had gone. And even then, she had no idea if she could make the raider jump correctly.
An alarm suddenly sounded, and Kara stared out the window as three basestars appeared. "Frak."
Tiny dots launched from them, raiders heading out to swarm the system. Probably searching for their lost patrol. Or the colonials. Not that it mattered.
Kara gave a reckless grin and headed for them, "Let's see how many of your frakkers I can take out."
"Closer..." They didn't seem to notice anything wrong until Kara veered, hand reaching for the ligament she'd squeezed earlier. Three raiders went up in a blaze before they all turned towards her.
"Well, it was nice knowin' ya." Kicking in the drive, Kara aimed for the nearest basestar, intent on taking it out.
A blast shifted her in her perch, and she grabbed a control she hadn't touched before. Her stomach dropped out, the world went sideways, and she couldn't breathe.
Then the sensation was gone, and she was floating over a planet.
"Frak me..."
It was a familiar planet, one she'd seen from space a lot.
Caprica.
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