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Fic of doom Chapter One
This is unbeta'd, un-re-read, un-edited, everything. This is Lyssie fic raw.
Season 4 spoilers, this takes off somewhere mid-Ties That Bind.
Kara/Sam, Cally/Galen, Tory/Gaius, Athena/Helo all get mentions, though the focus is mostly on Cylons.
It has no title yet, other than "I hate titles" and is 26k, and counting (there is no way to finish it tonight)
Chapter One: In which Cally Makes a Decision and Punchline Gets a Name
Cally knew she was a mess. The thought was somewhere in the back of her mind as Tory talked at her, talking her down. She was a mess, a complete, ridiculous mess. She was sobbing, she still had blood on her hands from bludgeoning her husband. And there was a Cylon right in front of her.
"You don't have to do this."
But she did, or she wouldn't be here. Cally felt herself collapsing, somehow falling insde as she gave in. Her husband was a Cylon. Tory was a Cylon. The child Cally's arms was half-Cylon. It was simply too much for Cally, and she leaned forward, her arm sliding around Tory's shoulder, her nose getting snot and tears all over Tory's expensive shirt.
Tory stiffened.
Viciously, Cally decided Tor could stand to lose a shirt or two. But what was almost hatred faded a little as Tory's arm came up, her hand patting Cally's back akwardly.
"There, there." Not quite mechanical, more uncertain. Tory obviously didn't have small children blubbering on her at odd times. Laura Roslin was made of sterner stuff than that.
A choked laugh came from Cally and she lifted her head. "You really suck at that."
"Gee, thanks."
Trying not to laugh, afraid it would turn into hysteriacl giggles, Cally pulled away a little. "I know you're trying. But you weren't good at sympathy before you were--" she stopped, sober suddenly.
A moment passed, as though the universe were waiting for a decision and Cally turned away and reached up, Nicky still clinging to her side, though his sobs had quieted down. She could turn it the rest of the way, push the button in and destroy them all. It would be so easy.
"Cally, don't--"
The board went red as she turned the key the opposite direction and pulled it free. "You were right," she couldn't look at Tory as she turned and headed for the hatch. "I can't do this to my son. Even if he's half-Cylon, even if my husband is a freak."
"Cally, what are you going to do?" Tory sounded small and frightened.
The power to bring a Cylon down was a heady thing and Cally laughed a little as she stopped in the hallway and tucked the key in her pocket. She could destroy Tory and Tigh and Galen. It would be so simple. "I don't know." It was the truth. She should tell Adama. Gods. He'd send them all out the airlock, if she guessed right. Could she have that on her conscience?
Nicky gave a warble of protest as she hugged him tighter.
"If you tell on us--"
Rounding on Tory, she was suddenly angry again. Some part of her worried about the mood swings. "Or you'll what? You'll kill me? You missed your chance to do it cleanly." Tory's eyes flicked down to Nicky and Cally laughed harshly, "He's half-Cylon and suddenly you care."
Tory had no answer to that, her face an open book of uncertainty and something that could have been hatred or disgust.
Feeling sticky and dirty, Cally turned away from her, "I need the head."
With Tory following her, Cally took them to the one off the starboard hangar deck, pleased to find that it was blessedly empty. She set Nicky into one of the over-large sinks, "Stay."
Turning the taps, Cally bathed her face in cool water, scrubbing the drying snot off her nose and cheeks while Tory hovered, almost keeping an eye on Nicky. It occured to Cally that Tory could kill her right there, could drown her and claim it as an accident. But she didn't. Grabbing the towel someone had abandoned, Cally dried her face and neck, then worked on Nicky, clearing most of the sweat and tears from his face.
"Shhh, Nicky, hey," Tory crooned, distracting him when he would have started crying again.
Nicky had always hated baths.
Finished, Cally draped the towel over the sink, then watched as Tory reached out to smooth her fingers through Nicky's hair. A flare of anger tored through Cally, leaving her breathless and reeling. She was getting tired of her mood shifting and changing, but that didn't stop her from slapping Tory's hand away. "Don't touch him."
"I'm just trying to help."
"Yeah. Like before, when you would have killed me?" Cally challenged. The momentary surprise on Tory's face made her laugh bitterly. "You might still kill me to protect your secret. Frakking Cylons are all the same."
"Cally, I would never--"
"Don't lie to me."
There was silence and then Tory crumpled, looking lost for a moment. She straightened and lifted her chin. "What are you going to do, Cally?"
"I told you, I don't know." Cally fiddled with the cloth again, wondering if she'd gotten all the blood off of her hands. "I beat the shit out of him, you know. Galen, that is," she added, interpreting Tory's confusion.
"God." The singular nominative didn't escape Cally's notice. Tory licked her lips. "Cally, please. You don't have to tell anyone."
Tory was using her name an awful lot, as though she'd been told it would keep people docile, happy. Cally shook her head. "I hate you." And she wondered if the words rang as false to Tory as they did to her. Galen was her husband. She had loved him, once. Now, she didn't know what she felt. "Why are you here, Tory?"
A flippant answer would have been easier. "We don't know. But we're as dedicated to keeping this fleet alive and safe as you are, Cally."
"That's why you hold secret meetings and don't admit what you are," Cally mocked. She scooped Nicky up, bouncing him against her hip a little. "C'mon, we should go. Galen's going to need medical attention."
-=-
An Eight piloted a heavy raider, flying it against one of Cavil's base stars, the massive ship more than a match for her tiny one. Grimly, she knew this could be the end. Out of resurrection range could mean her permanent death. It wasn't a happy thought. But then again, Cavil and his agenda weren't happy thoughts, either. Cylon against Cylon wouldn't have been something she would have considered once upon a time.
Yet here they were, and a Six had led the way.
Natalie, she called herself, had stepped up and spoken to them, had fought back when Cavil's side had tried to quell her ideas. And now she might lead them all to their doom. The Eight wasn't sure. She'd seen death before, on the colonies, even on New Caprica, though she'd mostly stayed off the planet.
But there was an immediacy to the sight of frozen models drifting through space from the ruptured hull of a base star. Feeling almost sick, the Eight changed direction again, veering straight for the center of the base star.
It was an unexpected move, but it was all she had. And maybe, her sisters would remember her.
A swarm of smaller raiders suddenly appeared, surrounding her ship and causing her to change trajectories. Two of them peeled off and continued on the original course, smashing through the middle of the base star and causing catastrophic systems failures, flares of light and energy turning the space around into a multi-colored light show.
The Eight swallowed, waggling the the heavy raider from side to side in silent thanks.
With a flourish, the raiders wiggled back before angling off towards the remaining base star that still remained of Natalie's fleet. The Eight followed, determined that they would survive this encounter. If only so she could tell the others of their sacrifice.
"Eight! Get back on board, we're jumping!"
In the heat of the battle, she barely made it back, the raiders sliding into the bay and settling as the base ship gave a lurch and jumped. There was a rending, tearing sensation, and the Eight found herself on the floor, puking from the disorientation. She struggled back to her console, still retching. "Six, Control, what happened? What the frak just happened?"
"We weren't ready to jump," a Two replied. "Our systems are half-fried, we're blind. And I don't think we made it very far."
Trying to ignore the smell of her own sick, the Eight climbed back into her seat and strapped in again, "I'm heading out to check. Don't leave without me again."
"Good hunting, Eight," he replied.
She blinked. Good hunting was what the humans used. She scowled as she let the heavy raider free-fall out of the bay. The base star was slowly drifting, giving her more than enough motion and momentum to avoid until she could turn around and face outwards.
They hadn't jumped far, just to the other edge of the battlefield. As far as she could tell, there was no one and nothing coming for them, though. From this angle, the field of debris seemed to stretch into infinity, and she felt a little sick as she tried to count the cost. So many dead, and all for a stupid vote. All because their brethren refused to listen.
"We seem to be safe," she reported back. "We're on the edge of the battlefield, and I think Cavil's ships have gone."
"Good." Natalie was back, sounding perfectly fine. "Get back to base, we need to--"
"No. I'm going to search for survivors."
"Eight, that is not--"
A little angry, she cut the transmission before she sent the heavy raider away from the base star, listening to as many frequencies as she could, trying to find survivors. There had to be some left, some few of her sisters. She wasn't sure if she'd save any Sixes she saw, but Eights, Twos and raiders were on her list.
It was several hours, and more than a few heart-breaking moments for her to give up the search. The few bodies she found were dead and gone, and the one raider that was intact hadn't responded to her promptings, its eye dark. Feeling useless and exhausted, Eight turned herself around and headed back, absently looking at the read-outs from the gas giant they were now orbiting. Her calculations told her it would be a month before debris started to be pulled down into its atmosphere. Good news for them, but she didn't want to be there for that long!
The raiders were clustered to one side of the bay when she returned, and she finished her post-flight check and went out to meet them. "Hey. You did a good job, back there," she said awkwardly, reaching out to touch them, one after the next.
It wasn't like talking to another human model, but there was still some sort of connection, something that made her feel they understood.
"Thank you." she whispered to the last one, before heading for the control room.
Natalie was there, one hand immersed in the data stream, a Two standing nearby, watching her with an odd expression. There weren't any other Eights, but that didn't bother the Eight. "What's the damage assessment?" she asked, stopping across from Natalie at the stream.
A flicker of movement and her eyes open. "He nearly managed it."
Eight shrugged, "So? We're alive and he's gone. We can hole up out here for long enough to repair ourselves and then we get the frak out of here."
"And do what?" Natalie demanded, eyes blazing, "Find Cavil's forces and take on a futile engagement?"
"No, we survive. We find a home for ourselves."
"There are only three models on this ship, yes, there are centurions, but we have no means of procreation. If we do that, we die out."
Natalie's logic was irrefutable and the Eight looked away. "Fine. Then what do we do?"
"We find the humans and we offer a truce." Leoben said quietly.
Eight whirled and stared at him. "Are you insane? The humans hate us. They'll be just as happy to blow us all sky high as look at us."
"Shut up, Punchline," Natalie snapped, her voice weary.
Confused, Eight turned to face her, "What the frak did you just call me?"
"You heard me. You either pick a name for yourself, or mine is sticking."
The Eight opened her mouth, then closed it, something about the call-sign making her silent. "I am not a joke."
"No. But we will be, if we don't find help." Pinching the bridge of her nose, Natalie continued, her voice muffled, "Leoben is going to start scouting for the human fleet, and I'd like you and Outlaw--"
"Who?"
"My sister Six. The pilot who holds your rank," Natalie looked annoyed at the interruption. "I'd like you two to get several heavy raider crews together, to search as well. And we need a detail to scour the debris for usable parts."
Something about that made Punchline frown. "Why?"
"Because unless we find all of the parts, we have no working drive. We are dead in the water, and before too long, we're going to starting dragging in the atmosphere."
"Shit."
Natalie simply nodded in agreement.
-=-
Nicky had stopped crying when they returned to quarters, and Cally was almost grateful for that. As grateful as she was for Galen to still be collapsed on the floor. Tory made a strange noise, but didn't elaborate as she moved and knelt next to him.
"We should get Cottle," Cally suggested.
"And then what, Cally? You get thrown in the brig?"
For a moment, Cally wondered if Tory would be happy with that. But she couldn't think how to solve the situation, and maybe that would be for the best. "It depends on if he presses charges. Gods." She moved and put Nicky in his playpen, smoothing the blanket over him as he curled up, obviously exhausted from the events of the day. "Look. I don't know what I'm going to do, Tory. But Galen needs medical attention."
"Are you going to divorce him?"
Spinning, Cally laughed a little, but couldn't feel much of anything. "Would you like that? It would make it easier for you to kill me then."
Tory closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm not going to kill you, Cally. We're not going to kill you. We just want to live."
"I think you said that before." Feeling uninterested for the moment, Cally moved to the phone and called the infirmary. She didn't explain why the Chief needed medical attention, just told them to send a stretcher party. "How is he?" She should feel love for the man collapsed on the floor. Or hatred. Something that would explain why she'd snapped and beaten him.
But all she could feel was a sort of hollowness inside. He was a Cylon. Whether he'd known or not, she didn't think she could take that. To stay married to a Cylon. She shuddered.
"I'm getting a divorce," she told Tory. "And you can have him, if you want."
Tory shook her head, "It was never about an affair, you know. Just about... being us." She finished, as the stretcher team arrived.
It didn't take the team of medics more than a moment to get the Chief bundled up and headed off to the infirmary, Ishay barking orders about keeping his head steady. There was a marine with them, who took Cally's arm and started to ask her questions. Ones she couldn't answer, not with her head spinning.
chapter two
Season 4 spoilers, this takes off somewhere mid-Ties That Bind.
Kara/Sam, Cally/Galen, Tory/Gaius, Athena/Helo all get mentions, though the focus is mostly on Cylons.
It has no title yet, other than "I hate titles" and is 26k, and counting (there is no way to finish it tonight)
Chapter One: In which Cally Makes a Decision and Punchline Gets a Name
Cally knew she was a mess. The thought was somewhere in the back of her mind as Tory talked at her, talking her down. She was a mess, a complete, ridiculous mess. She was sobbing, she still had blood on her hands from bludgeoning her husband. And there was a Cylon right in front of her.
"You don't have to do this."
But she did, or she wouldn't be here. Cally felt herself collapsing, somehow falling insde as she gave in. Her husband was a Cylon. Tory was a Cylon. The child Cally's arms was half-Cylon. It was simply too much for Cally, and she leaned forward, her arm sliding around Tory's shoulder, her nose getting snot and tears all over Tory's expensive shirt.
Tory stiffened.
Viciously, Cally decided Tor could stand to lose a shirt or two. But what was almost hatred faded a little as Tory's arm came up, her hand patting Cally's back akwardly.
"There, there." Not quite mechanical, more uncertain. Tory obviously didn't have small children blubbering on her at odd times. Laura Roslin was made of sterner stuff than that.
A choked laugh came from Cally and she lifted her head. "You really suck at that."
"Gee, thanks."
Trying not to laugh, afraid it would turn into hysteriacl giggles, Cally pulled away a little. "I know you're trying. But you weren't good at sympathy before you were--" she stopped, sober suddenly.
A moment passed, as though the universe were waiting for a decision and Cally turned away and reached up, Nicky still clinging to her side, though his sobs had quieted down. She could turn it the rest of the way, push the button in and destroy them all. It would be so easy.
"Cally, don't--"
The board went red as she turned the key the opposite direction and pulled it free. "You were right," she couldn't look at Tory as she turned and headed for the hatch. "I can't do this to my son. Even if he's half-Cylon, even if my husband is a freak."
"Cally, what are you going to do?" Tory sounded small and frightened.
The power to bring a Cylon down was a heady thing and Cally laughed a little as she stopped in the hallway and tucked the key in her pocket. She could destroy Tory and Tigh and Galen. It would be so simple. "I don't know." It was the truth. She should tell Adama. Gods. He'd send them all out the airlock, if she guessed right. Could she have that on her conscience?
Nicky gave a warble of protest as she hugged him tighter.
"If you tell on us--"
Rounding on Tory, she was suddenly angry again. Some part of her worried about the mood swings. "Or you'll what? You'll kill me? You missed your chance to do it cleanly." Tory's eyes flicked down to Nicky and Cally laughed harshly, "He's half-Cylon and suddenly you care."
Tory had no answer to that, her face an open book of uncertainty and something that could have been hatred or disgust.
Feeling sticky and dirty, Cally turned away from her, "I need the head."
With Tory following her, Cally took them to the one off the starboard hangar deck, pleased to find that it was blessedly empty. She set Nicky into one of the over-large sinks, "Stay."
Turning the taps, Cally bathed her face in cool water, scrubbing the drying snot off her nose and cheeks while Tory hovered, almost keeping an eye on Nicky. It occured to Cally that Tory could kill her right there, could drown her and claim it as an accident. But she didn't. Grabbing the towel someone had abandoned, Cally dried her face and neck, then worked on Nicky, clearing most of the sweat and tears from his face.
"Shhh, Nicky, hey," Tory crooned, distracting him when he would have started crying again.
Nicky had always hated baths.
Finished, Cally draped the towel over the sink, then watched as Tory reached out to smooth her fingers through Nicky's hair. A flare of anger tored through Cally, leaving her breathless and reeling. She was getting tired of her mood shifting and changing, but that didn't stop her from slapping Tory's hand away. "Don't touch him."
"I'm just trying to help."
"Yeah. Like before, when you would have killed me?" Cally challenged. The momentary surprise on Tory's face made her laugh bitterly. "You might still kill me to protect your secret. Frakking Cylons are all the same."
"Cally, I would never--"
"Don't lie to me."
There was silence and then Tory crumpled, looking lost for a moment. She straightened and lifted her chin. "What are you going to do, Cally?"
"I told you, I don't know." Cally fiddled with the cloth again, wondering if she'd gotten all the blood off of her hands. "I beat the shit out of him, you know. Galen, that is," she added, interpreting Tory's confusion.
"God." The singular nominative didn't escape Cally's notice. Tory licked her lips. "Cally, please. You don't have to tell anyone."
Tory was using her name an awful lot, as though she'd been told it would keep people docile, happy. Cally shook her head. "I hate you." And she wondered if the words rang as false to Tory as they did to her. Galen was her husband. She had loved him, once. Now, she didn't know what she felt. "Why are you here, Tory?"
A flippant answer would have been easier. "We don't know. But we're as dedicated to keeping this fleet alive and safe as you are, Cally."
"That's why you hold secret meetings and don't admit what you are," Cally mocked. She scooped Nicky up, bouncing him against her hip a little. "C'mon, we should go. Galen's going to need medical attention."
-=-
An Eight piloted a heavy raider, flying it against one of Cavil's base stars, the massive ship more than a match for her tiny one. Grimly, she knew this could be the end. Out of resurrection range could mean her permanent death. It wasn't a happy thought. But then again, Cavil and his agenda weren't happy thoughts, either. Cylon against Cylon wouldn't have been something she would have considered once upon a time.
Yet here they were, and a Six had led the way.
Natalie, she called herself, had stepped up and spoken to them, had fought back when Cavil's side had tried to quell her ideas. And now she might lead them all to their doom. The Eight wasn't sure. She'd seen death before, on the colonies, even on New Caprica, though she'd mostly stayed off the planet.
But there was an immediacy to the sight of frozen models drifting through space from the ruptured hull of a base star. Feeling almost sick, the Eight changed direction again, veering straight for the center of the base star.
It was an unexpected move, but it was all she had. And maybe, her sisters would remember her.
A swarm of smaller raiders suddenly appeared, surrounding her ship and causing her to change trajectories. Two of them peeled off and continued on the original course, smashing through the middle of the base star and causing catastrophic systems failures, flares of light and energy turning the space around into a multi-colored light show.
The Eight swallowed, waggling the the heavy raider from side to side in silent thanks.
With a flourish, the raiders wiggled back before angling off towards the remaining base star that still remained of Natalie's fleet. The Eight followed, determined that they would survive this encounter. If only so she could tell the others of their sacrifice.
"Eight! Get back on board, we're jumping!"
In the heat of the battle, she barely made it back, the raiders sliding into the bay and settling as the base ship gave a lurch and jumped. There was a rending, tearing sensation, and the Eight found herself on the floor, puking from the disorientation. She struggled back to her console, still retching. "Six, Control, what happened? What the frak just happened?"
"We weren't ready to jump," a Two replied. "Our systems are half-fried, we're blind. And I don't think we made it very far."
Trying to ignore the smell of her own sick, the Eight climbed back into her seat and strapped in again, "I'm heading out to check. Don't leave without me again."
"Good hunting, Eight," he replied.
She blinked. Good hunting was what the humans used. She scowled as she let the heavy raider free-fall out of the bay. The base star was slowly drifting, giving her more than enough motion and momentum to avoid until she could turn around and face outwards.
They hadn't jumped far, just to the other edge of the battlefield. As far as she could tell, there was no one and nothing coming for them, though. From this angle, the field of debris seemed to stretch into infinity, and she felt a little sick as she tried to count the cost. So many dead, and all for a stupid vote. All because their brethren refused to listen.
"We seem to be safe," she reported back. "We're on the edge of the battlefield, and I think Cavil's ships have gone."
"Good." Natalie was back, sounding perfectly fine. "Get back to base, we need to--"
"No. I'm going to search for survivors."
"Eight, that is not--"
A little angry, she cut the transmission before she sent the heavy raider away from the base star, listening to as many frequencies as she could, trying to find survivors. There had to be some left, some few of her sisters. She wasn't sure if she'd save any Sixes she saw, but Eights, Twos and raiders were on her list.
It was several hours, and more than a few heart-breaking moments for her to give up the search. The few bodies she found were dead and gone, and the one raider that was intact hadn't responded to her promptings, its eye dark. Feeling useless and exhausted, Eight turned herself around and headed back, absently looking at the read-outs from the gas giant they were now orbiting. Her calculations told her it would be a month before debris started to be pulled down into its atmosphere. Good news for them, but she didn't want to be there for that long!
The raiders were clustered to one side of the bay when she returned, and she finished her post-flight check and went out to meet them. "Hey. You did a good job, back there," she said awkwardly, reaching out to touch them, one after the next.
It wasn't like talking to another human model, but there was still some sort of connection, something that made her feel they understood.
"Thank you." she whispered to the last one, before heading for the control room.
Natalie was there, one hand immersed in the data stream, a Two standing nearby, watching her with an odd expression. There weren't any other Eights, but that didn't bother the Eight. "What's the damage assessment?" she asked, stopping across from Natalie at the stream.
A flicker of movement and her eyes open. "He nearly managed it."
Eight shrugged, "So? We're alive and he's gone. We can hole up out here for long enough to repair ourselves and then we get the frak out of here."
"And do what?" Natalie demanded, eyes blazing, "Find Cavil's forces and take on a futile engagement?"
"No, we survive. We find a home for ourselves."
"There are only three models on this ship, yes, there are centurions, but we have no means of procreation. If we do that, we die out."
Natalie's logic was irrefutable and the Eight looked away. "Fine. Then what do we do?"
"We find the humans and we offer a truce." Leoben said quietly.
Eight whirled and stared at him. "Are you insane? The humans hate us. They'll be just as happy to blow us all sky high as look at us."
"Shut up, Punchline," Natalie snapped, her voice weary.
Confused, Eight turned to face her, "What the frak did you just call me?"
"You heard me. You either pick a name for yourself, or mine is sticking."
The Eight opened her mouth, then closed it, something about the call-sign making her silent. "I am not a joke."
"No. But we will be, if we don't find help." Pinching the bridge of her nose, Natalie continued, her voice muffled, "Leoben is going to start scouting for the human fleet, and I'd like you and Outlaw--"
"Who?"
"My sister Six. The pilot who holds your rank," Natalie looked annoyed at the interruption. "I'd like you two to get several heavy raider crews together, to search as well. And we need a detail to scour the debris for usable parts."
Something about that made Punchline frown. "Why?"
"Because unless we find all of the parts, we have no working drive. We are dead in the water, and before too long, we're going to starting dragging in the atmosphere."
"Shit."
Natalie simply nodded in agreement.
-=-
Nicky had stopped crying when they returned to quarters, and Cally was almost grateful for that. As grateful as she was for Galen to still be collapsed on the floor. Tory made a strange noise, but didn't elaborate as she moved and knelt next to him.
"We should get Cottle," Cally suggested.
"And then what, Cally? You get thrown in the brig?"
For a moment, Cally wondered if Tory would be happy with that. But she couldn't think how to solve the situation, and maybe that would be for the best. "It depends on if he presses charges. Gods." She moved and put Nicky in his playpen, smoothing the blanket over him as he curled up, obviously exhausted from the events of the day. "Look. I don't know what I'm going to do, Tory. But Galen needs medical attention."
"Are you going to divorce him?"
Spinning, Cally laughed a little, but couldn't feel much of anything. "Would you like that? It would make it easier for you to kill me then."
Tory closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm not going to kill you, Cally. We're not going to kill you. We just want to live."
"I think you said that before." Feeling uninterested for the moment, Cally moved to the phone and called the infirmary. She didn't explain why the Chief needed medical attention, just told them to send a stretcher party. "How is he?" She should feel love for the man collapsed on the floor. Or hatred. Something that would explain why she'd snapped and beaten him.
But all she could feel was a sort of hollowness inside. He was a Cylon. Whether he'd known or not, she didn't think she could take that. To stay married to a Cylon. She shuddered.
"I'm getting a divorce," she told Tory. "And you can have him, if you want."
Tory shook her head, "It was never about an affair, you know. Just about... being us." She finished, as the stretcher team arrived.
It didn't take the team of medics more than a moment to get the Chief bundled up and headed off to the infirmary, Ishay barking orders about keeping his head steady. There was a marine with them, who took Cally's arm and started to ask her questions. Ones she couldn't answer, not with her head spinning.
chapter two