![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fic of doom Chapter Five
Chapter Five: More Stuff happens.
-=-
"It's funny, you know." Boomer was sitting on Ellen's couch, picking at the grapes that were probably the last ones in storage. They'd be down to algae mash soon enough. "The things he doesn't see."
From where she was pacing (Ellen didn't always pace, but it seemed to be something she enjoyed, since there was nothing else she could do), "John doesn't see a lot of things, despite what he might think." She looked uncertain as she stopped in front of Boomer and reached down to accept a grape.
"No, that, too. The thing is. I'm not human. I'm never going to be human--" Boomer didn't hide the bitterness in her voice. "New Caprica taught me a lot of things."
Ellen nodded and resumed pacing, her head down as she watched her toes on the floor. Boomer wondered if she was projecting a carpet of grass and leaves to walk through. Sometimes, she missed the forests she'd never actually been in--manufactured memories of family camping trips were nothing but false hopes and fake dreams.
"I could have my memories wiped." Dropping the words into the air made Ellen pause and turn to look at her. "All of the things that Sharon Valerii was programed to remember as a life. I could have them wiped. Destroyed."
"But then you wouldn't be who you are."
"I'm not Sharon Valerii."
Ellen shook her head, "You are the sum of your memories, Boomer. You are you, no matter who takes copies of that and claims it as their own."
"But my memories do just that," Boomer pointed out. "You all gave me this set of personality pieces, these protocols. And I'm nothing but a machine with no---"
"Don't say that! You have free will. We gave you the ability to adapt and learn." Angry, Ellen stomped back, her feet moving through crackling, dry leaves that crunched with every step she took, releasing bitter scents into the air. "Don't tell me that you haven't grown and changed, evolved away from those memories. They began you, but your experiences afterwards completed you."
"That's why I want to wipe them away." Feeling satisfaction, Boomer watched Ellen struggle for a moment before she dropped down into the chair.
"You can have it both ways, Boomer. Those memories are fake, but they're also you. Take them away, and I'm not sure what you'd be left with. Longings for people you've never met? Pain from wounds that you never got?" Ellen shook her head and slumped backwards.
"I suppose there is no real answer." Biting into a grape, Boomer was careful to spit the seeds out, then add them to the growing pile. "One of the Sixes used to say she wanted to be a farmer."
The change of subject didn't faze Ellen. She simply tilted her head and replied, "Perhaps she likes dirt."
"She should have seen the dirt on New Caprica. Would have cured her of the idea," Cavil said as he wandered in. He looked at them and gave a slight smile, "How are my two favorite Cylons getting along? That is, if I had favorites."
Ellen propped her head on her hand and rolled her eyes, "We're doing just fine, John."
Despite his dislike of the name, she kept calling him by it. The way he scowled was a source of amusement for Boomer, though she kept it hidden. She kept a lot of things hidden, these days. Picking up a grape, she tossed it at him, "Grape?"
He caught it and shook his head, "Have you been raiding the last of the fresh food stores, Boomer?"
"I thought you said algae was better for us, anyway." She replied calmly before standing. "I should go check in with the Fives and make sure the lobotomies are still all on schedule."
Though there was no reason for her to do so, Cavil simply let her go with a dry, "They are."
Boomer held in her shudder until she was out of his sight. One day, the lobotomy might be hers.
-=-
Boomer stared at her 'army'. It wasn't exactly a heartening sight. There were only fifteen recoverable Sixes, Eights and Twos. Fifteen wasn't exactly taking over a base star filled with hundreds material. Especially when two of the Eights looked moon-eyed, one of the Sixes refused to fight, and the Two kept saying he needed to speak to the hybrid.
Hopefully, she'd convinced him that would be a really bad idea for now.
"This is not going to be easy," she began, trying to martial her thoughts and options.
Jo, an Eight, snorted derisively. "No shit." Jo had woken up sarcastic and surly, and nothing had changed her disposition.
That was ok, she'd be a great companion for the brunette Six who'd refused a name until Boomer had frustratedly called her Candy. Both of them seemed the rebellious type, and Boomer wondered if either had done an serious maturing since being first released into the wild.
Given their attitudes, no.
Then again, Boomer wasn't exactly the most adult person around, either. She planned to leave that to Ellen.
"Shut up," Boomer suggested. "This is not going to easy, it's not going to be pretty, but if we succeed, maybe one day, someone will remember us."
"You're appealing to our sense of gravitas?" Candy snorted, "You might as well offer us cigars, honey. Look, it's simple. Someone has to get to CIC and keep them distracted while the rest of us get the airlocks open. No air, no alive evil Cylon hordes."
"That's a little final, I was thinking--"
"You can't talk to One, Boomer. You know that," Jo interrupted, moving away and starting to pace. "He thinks he's right, and he knows things he won't share."
Candy shrugged, "I think she's right. I knew him on Galactica for a while, and while he could pump and grind with the best of them, he was definitely not all there with me."
Her words made Boomer grimace. Not that long ago, she'd been in Cavil's bed, letting him--but she didn't want to think about that. Thinking about that led to the inevitable crawling of her skin and the worry that she was still programed by him. Shit, she hoped she wasn't. "Thank you for that interlude," she said dryly. "Now, if no one else has a plan?"
Sybil shook her head, giving Candy an unfathomable look. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to go so far as to kill them all--"
"That's what they did to us--what they'll continue doing!" This outburst was from Rebecca, one of the moon-eyed Eights who had appeared mostly docile and frightened. Now she looked angry. "Natalie and the others didn't stand a chance. They're probably dead."
"Hey." Rachel, another Eight, touched her shoulder. "Hey, it's ok. Natalie isn't dead. You know that."
"Frak right," agreed Jo, "Bitch is too fierce."
"Well, I suppose she is, at that. 'Course, I don't think fierceness counts, with death." Candy smiled a mean little smile, "But that's just my opinion."
"Get airlocked," muttered Rachel.
"People!" Never before had Boomer been more grateful for her supposed background in the military. She glared at them all, "Knock it off. We have a job to do, if we want to retake this fleet. Unless you all want Cavil to win and box every single one of our lines forever?"
There was a little more grumbling, but Candy's plan actually had some merit. Boomer would simply need to iron out the details with them, before Cavil finally noticed her long absence.
She considered slinking back to his side and a shudder went through her. Never again, if she could help it.
Besides, Ellen was probably distracting him. Boomer looked at her little crew of mutineers, and wondered what they would make of Ellen Tigh, Cylon. It would probably be best to wait until they'd met up with Natalie before revealing that little nugget of knowledge.
-=-
-=-
It was cold in the little room that looked like nothing, without projection. Five was admiring the nice paisley wall-paper when another of his brothers arrived, a Four with him.
"What they are doing is wrong," Five told him without preamble. He looked annoyed at the wallpaper, reaching out and resetting it to pastels and greys, "No Cylon should go against their model. It's forbidden."
"Boomer did it first, but the Eights have always been weak," agreed Five. He looked at Four, wondering how many of the other Fours would be amenable to their way of thinking. This one, certainly, Five recognized him as the one who used to vote in council on Colonial One during their sham of an administration.
The Four looked between them, then leaned against the wall. "We don't know what they're planning yet. I suggest we watch and observe. Find out where to start tipping the scale against them."
"Sabotage." Five smiled a little, then reflexively twitched the paisley back to reds and dark blues. "It will be our honor to die permanently to halt their little rebellion. They must be stopped, after all."
"At any cost."
Pleased that there was agreement, Five failed to notice the irony inherent in rebelling against those who had rebelled in the name of individuality, particularly when he was able to tell himself apart from his brothers. The confusion would probably have caused his brain to break.
Five scowled, and the paisley shifted to greys. "They wish to name me. Should I let them?"
Five considered, then nodded, "To put them off their guard, and earn their trust. It will make it all the sweeter when we destroy them."
"To that end, I'll go down and lend a hand to those working the engines. There are bound to be minor systems to disrupt for repair, which will delay them further. If we delay long enough, we may simply have to just enjoy the feeling as the gravity rips us apart."
"I don't think we'll be enjoying that," Five objected. He frowned when his brother switched the paisley to yellow ducks floundering in blue streams.
"Someone might be."
On that note, they dispersed, Five irritably changing the paisley back to something utilitarian, yet suave.
-=-
chapter six
-=-
"It's funny, you know." Boomer was sitting on Ellen's couch, picking at the grapes that were probably the last ones in storage. They'd be down to algae mash soon enough. "The things he doesn't see."
From where she was pacing (Ellen didn't always pace, but it seemed to be something she enjoyed, since there was nothing else she could do), "John doesn't see a lot of things, despite what he might think." She looked uncertain as she stopped in front of Boomer and reached down to accept a grape.
"No, that, too. The thing is. I'm not human. I'm never going to be human--" Boomer didn't hide the bitterness in her voice. "New Caprica taught me a lot of things."
Ellen nodded and resumed pacing, her head down as she watched her toes on the floor. Boomer wondered if she was projecting a carpet of grass and leaves to walk through. Sometimes, she missed the forests she'd never actually been in--manufactured memories of family camping trips were nothing but false hopes and fake dreams.
"I could have my memories wiped." Dropping the words into the air made Ellen pause and turn to look at her. "All of the things that Sharon Valerii was programed to remember as a life. I could have them wiped. Destroyed."
"But then you wouldn't be who you are."
"I'm not Sharon Valerii."
Ellen shook her head, "You are the sum of your memories, Boomer. You are you, no matter who takes copies of that and claims it as their own."
"But my memories do just that," Boomer pointed out. "You all gave me this set of personality pieces, these protocols. And I'm nothing but a machine with no---"
"Don't say that! You have free will. We gave you the ability to adapt and learn." Angry, Ellen stomped back, her feet moving through crackling, dry leaves that crunched with every step she took, releasing bitter scents into the air. "Don't tell me that you haven't grown and changed, evolved away from those memories. They began you, but your experiences afterwards completed you."
"That's why I want to wipe them away." Feeling satisfaction, Boomer watched Ellen struggle for a moment before she dropped down into the chair.
"You can have it both ways, Boomer. Those memories are fake, but they're also you. Take them away, and I'm not sure what you'd be left with. Longings for people you've never met? Pain from wounds that you never got?" Ellen shook her head and slumped backwards.
"I suppose there is no real answer." Biting into a grape, Boomer was careful to spit the seeds out, then add them to the growing pile. "One of the Sixes used to say she wanted to be a farmer."
The change of subject didn't faze Ellen. She simply tilted her head and replied, "Perhaps she likes dirt."
"She should have seen the dirt on New Caprica. Would have cured her of the idea," Cavil said as he wandered in. He looked at them and gave a slight smile, "How are my two favorite Cylons getting along? That is, if I had favorites."
Ellen propped her head on her hand and rolled her eyes, "We're doing just fine, John."
Despite his dislike of the name, she kept calling him by it. The way he scowled was a source of amusement for Boomer, though she kept it hidden. She kept a lot of things hidden, these days. Picking up a grape, she tossed it at him, "Grape?"
He caught it and shook his head, "Have you been raiding the last of the fresh food stores, Boomer?"
"I thought you said algae was better for us, anyway." She replied calmly before standing. "I should go check in with the Fives and make sure the lobotomies are still all on schedule."
Though there was no reason for her to do so, Cavil simply let her go with a dry, "They are."
Boomer held in her shudder until she was out of his sight. One day, the lobotomy might be hers.
-=-
Boomer stared at her 'army'. It wasn't exactly a heartening sight. There were only fifteen recoverable Sixes, Eights and Twos. Fifteen wasn't exactly taking over a base star filled with hundreds material. Especially when two of the Eights looked moon-eyed, one of the Sixes refused to fight, and the Two kept saying he needed to speak to the hybrid.
Hopefully, she'd convinced him that would be a really bad idea for now.
"This is not going to be easy," she began, trying to martial her thoughts and options.
Jo, an Eight, snorted derisively. "No shit." Jo had woken up sarcastic and surly, and nothing had changed her disposition.
That was ok, she'd be a great companion for the brunette Six who'd refused a name until Boomer had frustratedly called her Candy. Both of them seemed the rebellious type, and Boomer wondered if either had done an serious maturing since being first released into the wild.
Given their attitudes, no.
Then again, Boomer wasn't exactly the most adult person around, either. She planned to leave that to Ellen.
"Shut up," Boomer suggested. "This is not going to easy, it's not going to be pretty, but if we succeed, maybe one day, someone will remember us."
"You're appealing to our sense of gravitas?" Candy snorted, "You might as well offer us cigars, honey. Look, it's simple. Someone has to get to CIC and keep them distracted while the rest of us get the airlocks open. No air, no alive evil Cylon hordes."
"That's a little final, I was thinking--"
"You can't talk to One, Boomer. You know that," Jo interrupted, moving away and starting to pace. "He thinks he's right, and he knows things he won't share."
Candy shrugged, "I think she's right. I knew him on Galactica for a while, and while he could pump and grind with the best of them, he was definitely not all there with me."
Her words made Boomer grimace. Not that long ago, she'd been in Cavil's bed, letting him--but she didn't want to think about that. Thinking about that led to the inevitable crawling of her skin and the worry that she was still programed by him. Shit, she hoped she wasn't. "Thank you for that interlude," she said dryly. "Now, if no one else has a plan?"
Sybil shook her head, giving Candy an unfathomable look. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to go so far as to kill them all--"
"That's what they did to us--what they'll continue doing!" This outburst was from Rebecca, one of the moon-eyed Eights who had appeared mostly docile and frightened. Now she looked angry. "Natalie and the others didn't stand a chance. They're probably dead."
"Hey." Rachel, another Eight, touched her shoulder. "Hey, it's ok. Natalie isn't dead. You know that."
"Frak right," agreed Jo, "Bitch is too fierce."
"Well, I suppose she is, at that. 'Course, I don't think fierceness counts, with death." Candy smiled a mean little smile, "But that's just my opinion."
"Get airlocked," muttered Rachel.
"People!" Never before had Boomer been more grateful for her supposed background in the military. She glared at them all, "Knock it off. We have a job to do, if we want to retake this fleet. Unless you all want Cavil to win and box every single one of our lines forever?"
There was a little more grumbling, but Candy's plan actually had some merit. Boomer would simply need to iron out the details with them, before Cavil finally noticed her long absence.
She considered slinking back to his side and a shudder went through her. Never again, if she could help it.
Besides, Ellen was probably distracting him. Boomer looked at her little crew of mutineers, and wondered what they would make of Ellen Tigh, Cylon. It would probably be best to wait until they'd met up with Natalie before revealing that little nugget of knowledge.
-=-
-=-
It was cold in the little room that looked like nothing, without projection. Five was admiring the nice paisley wall-paper when another of his brothers arrived, a Four with him.
"What they are doing is wrong," Five told him without preamble. He looked annoyed at the wallpaper, reaching out and resetting it to pastels and greys, "No Cylon should go against their model. It's forbidden."
"Boomer did it first, but the Eights have always been weak," agreed Five. He looked at Four, wondering how many of the other Fours would be amenable to their way of thinking. This one, certainly, Five recognized him as the one who used to vote in council on Colonial One during their sham of an administration.
The Four looked between them, then leaned against the wall. "We don't know what they're planning yet. I suggest we watch and observe. Find out where to start tipping the scale against them."
"Sabotage." Five smiled a little, then reflexively twitched the paisley back to reds and dark blues. "It will be our honor to die permanently to halt their little rebellion. They must be stopped, after all."
"At any cost."
Pleased that there was agreement, Five failed to notice the irony inherent in rebelling against those who had rebelled in the name of individuality, particularly when he was able to tell himself apart from his brothers. The confusion would probably have caused his brain to break.
Five scowled, and the paisley shifted to greys. "They wish to name me. Should I let them?"
Five considered, then nodded, "To put them off their guard, and earn their trust. It will make it all the sweeter when we destroy them."
"To that end, I'll go down and lend a hand to those working the engines. There are bound to be minor systems to disrupt for repair, which will delay them further. If we delay long enough, we may simply have to just enjoy the feeling as the gravity rips us apart."
"I don't think we'll be enjoying that," Five objected. He frowned when his brother switched the paisley to yellow ducks floundering in blue streams.
"Someone might be."
On that note, they dispersed, Five irritably changing the paisley back to something utilitarian, yet suave.
-=-
chapter six