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Fic of doom Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
She was trusting Cylons. It was insane. Kara stood in their control center and watched them move, hands moving in and out of the data stream. It was mostly routine maintenance, worrying about coolant and power reserves, food stores and making sure the atmosphere was regulated. But it was still fascinating, still different from human control surfaces. The ship had an organic feel to it; Kara had stood in their hangar bay and stared up a red-veined ceiling that almost seemed to pulse, grey and white columns forming the bones of the cage.
It was dizzying, being surrounded by Cylons, watching them watch her. The Twos were keeping their distance after she'd threaten to cut Leoben's balls off. Natalie hadn't smiled, but she'd snapped an order, keeping them in line. Kara could appreciate that, if only for her own sanity.
Not that she had any. Earth was still out there, still pulling at her in a way she couldn't explain.
When they'd first gotten to the base star, when they'd been maneuvering through the debris, she'd seen the gas giant and the slowly falling base star. It had been a revelation. Her painting. But that wasn't it, it wasn't enough. There was more to this, more to finding Earth. It was making her worry for her sanity that she had painted this scene, but it still felt oddly right.
As though it fit for her to be there, as though Natalie and the others were part of the patterns that Leoben used to claim were there and that Kara was terrified that she was beginning to see.
One of the Eights had talked about the hybrid saying strange things, new things, but Kara had tuned her out. She wasn't ready for more weirdness, she wasn't ok with this Destiny shit taking over her life and brain. Earth still tugged at her, and she hated it.
-=-
Ellen had felt the jump with some surprise, but it was nothing to the reaction of the centurions that had still been guarding her cell. They shifted, arms going from guns to hands, then back before one turned to face her.
"Wait." She stood up, leaving Boomer's body to the deck for the moment. "I can help you. This isn't the way. You asked us--"
The centurion shivered before it stepped forward, hand out, gun shoving into her stomach.
It must have been sort of protocol: if John were incapacitated and the ship jumped without him--Ellen frantically shook her head, babbling, "I can help you, we can help you, I can set you free of his control."
That last made the centurion freeze.
"Yes," Ellen nodded, "I know how to remove your limiting chip, the piece of technology that makes you less than whole, makes you a slave. He designed it, but I know how it works." Sadness entered her gaze. "I am so sorry for what he's done to you. What we allowed. Please, let me help you."
With a decisive movement, the centurion slid down into a crouch, bringing its neck level with Ellen's stomach. She stepped to the side, then bent, reaching into the delicate structure of spine and collarbones, feeling for the thing she'd seen before, the thing John had hinted at. She knew what it had to look like, she and Sam had designed one, thinking it might be needed. That was before they'd discovered their God, before they'd had hope that a new generation wouldn't be as destructive as the last.
How wrong they'd been.
It was a cyllindar, looking innocuously part of the centurion's system. But it was situated in such a way that centurion hands and fingers could never remove it. Ellen twisted it, then pulled up against the resistance.
There was a chime and it came free in her hand. She breathed out. "There. I said I could help you, didn't I? Now you're free to do as you wish." she just hoped it wouldn't kill her next. The other centurion shifted, looking confused and agitated while its brother stayed crouched, joints shifting and rustling.
With a jerk, the centurion rolled back into a standing position, its arm a gun. The eye on its featureless face flashed deep crimson before it turned and fired, destroying the resurrection tank in the corner of the room.
Ellen had tried to ignore it, knowing that John was leaving it there as a taunt, a way to remind her that her life was in his hands, finite, that he could destroy her and bring her back again and again. Seeing it turn into metled, tattered metal made her smile a little. "Was it really such a mistake?"
There was no reply from the centurion.
Leaving it there, she pointed at the other centurion, "I can help you, too."
After looking at its still-motionless brother, it moved, kneeling in front of her. Ellen smiled as she bent to her task. Perhaps there was luck in the world after all.
-=-
There was a small arms locker two decks below the Eight's resurrection center. Boomer stopped there and strapped two pistols on. It might be over-kill, but she wasn't sure how long she'd have until others resurrected her, and she didn't trust that any of them would be on her side. And there was a support staff, somewhere. They might be the shoot first, ask questions later type. Boomer didn't plan on getting boxed before she could find out all the secrets of the universe.
A clang in the distance made her jerk, one pistol aimed down the hall, the other half-ready.
Nothing. The sound didn't come again and she tried to breathe normally. The hub itself had its own ambient sound produced by the air circulation system and the engine. But there'd be more of a rise in sound if it were going to jump, not the sound of someone dropping something.
Aftee checking both ways, she began walking, ears straining. She needed to find allies, unbox tThree and see if she were interested in an alliance, lead another revolution and maybe box the Ones. Finding Natalie would have to wait, despite the fact that Boomer wanted to offer her and her people the safety of resurrection. Learning how to unbox Three would hopefully give her the information she needed to box the Ones.
He was the only one who knew the secret, and Boomer wondered if the others had ever realized that. Only One could initiate those protocols, locking away the mind of an entire line (or one tiny mind in the midst of millions). She wondered if he'd done that on purpose, if he'd known that the others would rebel and need to be stopped like this.
Boomer hoped the Three might have some ideas--if, that was, she could wake her before someone else tracked her down and sent her back into the hub's computer.
-=-
"The problem," Natalie said, head bent over the data stream, "Is the navigation computer. We've gotten the structural damage taken care of, and the drive itself appears operational. But without the programs and codes to guide us properly, we're flying into the dark."
"Can't the hybrid handle that?"
Natalie shook her head, "No, she can't. That's not what she was designed for. We need the codes from a raptor, another base star, or your Demetrius."
That didn't sound so good. Sam frowned and looked at Kara, who wasn't really paying attention. "I'm not sure we can do that."
A snort from Prudence gave him the impression that the Eight didn't think very highly of him. "Well, you know where we are now. We're not just going to let you go. And that ship of yours won't hold enough of us to make hijacking it worthwhile."
"We're not hijacking them, Prudence." Natalie met Sam's gaze, "We need your help. I don't know if you believe us yet, and I don't really care: Cavil's forces will come after you until they're destroyed. We'll leave you alone."
"This is leaving us alone?" Kara asked, her tone sarcastic.
Natalie made a noise of annoyance, "Yes, it is, you stupid woman. My people saved your asses, and all we want is the nav data from one of your computers. We don't want your fleet, we don't want anything else. We don't even want you dead.
"We've trusted them this far, Kara," Sam pointed out. The Demetrius was out there, watching the base star while Athena and Barolay checked over the other systems with some of the Eights.
"I know." Looking irritated, Kara finally nodded, "I'll have Helo get Gaeta to put together something that won't give away the fleet's position and data so that we can upload it into your computers."
"Thank you."
-=-
The viper had called her. Cally stood in the hatchway of the daycare and watched Nicky and Hera, their heads bent over a sheet of paper, crayons in hand as they worked to draw something. She couldn't tell what it was from here, but they seemed very determined to finish it, not even squabbling over who did which part as she'd seen them do before.
She just couldn't get Tory's words out of her head, nor could she shake the feeling that the signal was something important, something that Adama needed to know about.
The problem was that its significance made no sense. It was just a signal, just something that beeped off and on into the night, echoing from somewhere far away in a way that still baffled Dee. The comms technician had taken a few readings over the last two jumps they'd made and wasn't any closer to triangulating the source.
A giggle made her pull herself out of her thoughts to find Hera and Nicky standing before her, holding out their joint art project. They seemed intent on her taking it from them.
Cally ruffled their hair, then took the sheet, tipping it so she could see what it contained.
She almost dropped it in shock, eyes making sense of the shapes almost immeditately. Muddy reds and blues swirled around in circles until a yellow center took up the movement. Crayons were a crude method to create with, but they had managed the circles almost accurately. In the center was a crude black drawing of a viper.
The mandala. Cally had heard others talk about it, snatches of conversation between Helo and Starbuck, little rumors here and there. Starbuck had flown into clouds that seemed to be stained with colors. The walls of the temple of the five had been covered with the symbol in large and small measure. She shivered and slowly sank to her knees, reaching for both children.
Hera snuggled into her while Nicky giggled to himself, babbling something before he kissed her cheek with a smack and toddled off.
There was no escaping the fact that her child was part Cylon. Cally hugged Hera tighter. She just hoped that no one else had noticed. And that neither were prone to drawing the mandala often.
A thought struck her, and she opened her fist, smoothing the paper out on her knee while Hera stayed snuggled into her side. The viper was still there, still taunting her. Just like the one down on the deck.
"Surprise," Hera whispered before she kissed Cally's cheek and danced off after Nicky.
-=-
"Kara." Sam wasn't sure why he was doing this--maybe it was inevitable that he'd want her to know now. If she killed him, he'd just be one more dead Cylon on the base star. This was the worst time to tell her, of course. And maybe that was the real reason: she needed him as one more body in a plane.
"What is it, Sam?" She sounded tired, and the harsh lighting in the base star didn't help that. Her skin was grey-tinged, and the circles under her eyes made him want to hold her until she slept.
But she wouldn't let him get that close, it had been a long time since she had.
The again, Sam wasn't sure when he'd last slept, which was probably causing the recklessness. "There's something I've been keeping from you." A lousy, stupid start. Why couldn't he just come out and say it?
"You're secretly in love with Lee Adama." The deadpan delivery didn't quite match her expression, but then again, she had an assault to finish planning.
Sam wondered if they were past jokes, now. If what he told her would destroy them completely. If there even was a 'them' anymore. He swallowed. "I'm a Cylon. I'm one of the final five that they keep talking about."
The words made the room feel heavier, as his voice stopped. As though he'd added a burden to the air just by speaking. He wanted to take them back, but there wasn't a way to. Not now he'd put them in the open. Kara looked uncomprehending, her eyes wide, waiting for the blow to fall, and Sam felt sick.
He tried to fix it. "I never meant--"
She cut him off with a harsh laugh, her voice grainy, "You want to defect and join the Cylons now? A medal?"
"No. No," he shook his head, wondering if he should back up. If she'd keep her long-ago promise, and put a bullet in his head, "I just thought you should know."
"Now I know. Thanks." With a roll of her eyes, she bent to the notes she'd been making, fingers shaking just a little as she pulled the pen across the paper.
Sam frowned, unable to read her, unable to decide if it had been the stupidest idea ever, or something else. "Kara--"
The pen clattered to the makeshift tabletop, and her head came up, eyes spearing him with an unfathomable look. "What do you want, Sam? A bullet to the head? A hug? Some sort of reassurance that if I kill you right now, you'll resurrect at the hub and be able to tell them our plans?"
"No, Kara--"
"Then shut up."
He closed his mouth and just looked at her. For a time, that was all they did. Kara, on her side of the table, Sam on his. Sam felt like he could feel every moment of their marriage right there in the room with them, as Kara weighed and touched it, trying to figure out where she fit into all of it. Where he fit, with his newly-revealed Cylon-ness.
It was an improvement over what he'd expected, though he still didn't want her to leave him. He could live without her, but it would be a hollow existence.
Telling her that wouldn't stop her, though. And he'd exposed himself emotionally to her enough to know that any weakness would be mocked, any chink would get a hammer and chisel taken to it, until he could catch hold of her and bring her down with him.
He'd mocked her mother. Once.
Despite the fact that the picture Sam had formed of Socrata Thrace was one of demands and abuse, Kara had defended her, ripping him to shreds in the process. Afterwards, he'd learned not to mock her, not to deride her. All he could do was just listen, as Kara told him things that no child should have ever endured.
"I'm sorry."
That wasn't a lie, but it still felt hollow.
"Yeah. I'm sure you are, Sammy. Get out."
That was a bad idea. Something told him that if he left, it would destroy them. He moved towards her, instead, skirting the table and stopping when he was within arms' length. "This isn't--" he broke off and pulled out his side-arm, holding it out to her, grip-first.
When her hand closed around it, her eyes puzzled, he stepped closer, bringing the barrel up to his chest.
Kara didn't move or say anything, just stared at the gun, at his chest. Her eyes were a little glazed, almost as though she weren't seeing what he was seeing.
"You said you'd kill me."
The words didn't seem to penetrate, and Sam wondered if his gamble had been stupid. A movement of her lips caught his eyes, and he realized she was laughing and crying at the same time, tears slowly sliding down her cheeks.
He wondered if he'd broken her.
"Kara."
She shook her head, her voice whispy with suppressed sobs, "I can't do this, Sam. Not now."
"I should have waited to tell you."
"Not that. Any of it. The assault, the Cylons, you--" her hand yanked the gun out of his grasp and she dropped it on the table before stepping forward and leaning into him, head on his chest. "Earth, Sam. It's still there, still pulling at me, and I don't know which way is up."
Tentatively, he put a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered, but didn't pull away. "Ok." he murmured, "It's ok, Kara."
"No. No, it's not." She shivered harder and he reacted instinctively, wrapping his arms around her, trying to warm her up again. "Besides, I can't kill you when I need you as a warm body in the cockpit," she added, her voice muffled.
Sam closed his eyes. He had a reprieve, and maybe she did, too. His grip on her tightened, and he felt her hands slide behind his back. "Ok. All right."
"Shut up," she suggested.
He closed his mouth and his eyes, and simply hoped this wasn't the end for them.
-=-
If she were stuck on a frakking base star, at least she had the comfort of Jean Barolay at her back. The civilian hadn't looked thrilled when Helo suggested her, but Sharon trusted her to shoot someone if they stepped a foot wrong.
Of course, it didn't help that they were currently surrounded by Eights while they checked on the secondary control rooms, searching for a fault someone had reported.
It was eerie, watching the Eights as they shifted. Some wore pilot gear, most wore soft blouses and pants, a few wore something similar to the tanks and pants most of the Galactica pilots prefered when they weren't in the cockpit. There was a sense of individuality, a sense that they were no longer a herd. Athena shuddered a little, imagining them swallowing her back into their midst.
It wasn't going to happen, ever, if she could help it.
"There's a misaligned circuit," murmured the Eight with her hand in the data stream. She was calling herself Danielle, the name giving her a dreamy air. Her eyes widened after an instant, and she jerked her hand free. "I think it's sabotage."
A rumble from the Eights made Barolay shift uneasily. Athena reached out and touched her shoulder, pulling her a little away from them.
It wouldn't do for either side to start shooting indiscriminantly.
"This is Natalie's fault." Another Eight screwed up her face, then relaxed and looked at Athena, "Please. The Sixes have ruined this. They've taken things too far, and we're so fractured. Can't you help us?"
Athena hadn't expected that. She blinked at them. "What the frak? You want me to help you lead a rebellion against Natalie? Take over from her?"
"You have experience with command--you know what it's like to walk away from everything you knew. But you had the colonial fleet to take you in, we have no one." Anna, another said, her tone practical. "We don't know that. We only know that we are dying in this war, and Natalie isn't going to succeed. She was so stupid, letting the Fives and Fours come out of their tanks."
"We should have spaced them when we had the chance," agreed Danielle. She turned pleading eyes on Athena, "Please?"
"You're frakking children. You don't just walk away from something you've decided to--you pick a side and you frakking stick to it." Angry with them, angry with all of this, Athena stomped over to the data stream. "Since you won't fix this, I will. And then I'm telling Starbuck we need to get the frak out of here."
"Wait, Athena, don't--"
She didn't hear Danielle. She didn't hear anything at all.
-=-
Jo had been working on the course variables, trying to decide where Natalie had jumped. It wouldn't have been far, and it would have been desperate. If there was anything to go by in the swirl of dead base stars and raiders in this section, they had been the last. She didn't like to think about how many had been lost. It made her cranky.
"Got anything yet?" Candy demanded, dropping her helmet on one of the consoles and keeping it from splashing, but only barely. She'd been searching the decks, trying to find any other survivors. It would be frakking ironic if Boomer's plan had worked and they were the only two who'd managed to survive with their skins intact.
The atmosphere was mostly back to normal, though the data stream warned Jo that the lower levels were still filled with bodies, so the air probably wasn't that pleasant. She wasn't really in the mood to go down and check. So far, they'd been lucky, and no centurions had come stomping into the control center to kill them. She almost wished some of them would. It would certainly break up the monotony.
"No. I don't know. It's frakking hard to tell! There's a bunch of places she could have gone: a gas giant, a double-ringed planet with moons, a--" Jo threw up her hands, "A lot."
"Perhaps I can help."
They both turned and stared at the woman in the doorway. Candy frowned at her, then blinked, "Ellen Tigh? Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
Ellen smiled. "So I've been told." The smile turned strange as she looked between them, "Oh, girls. You turned out better than we could have imagined. It almost makes a mother want to cry."
"Save your tears for later, lady," Candy suggested, "You think you can help. How?"
"I remember some of the operating specs for base stars. Given the damage that Natalie's base star suffered, I feel certain that they were only able to jump to the gas giant." Looking sad, Ellen added, "I'm not sure that helps, John told me he sent two base stars after her, though he never said she was destroyed."
"Gas giant." With a shrug, Jo reached down into the data stream. "Good enough for me."
"Better than eenie-meenie-miney-mo," agreed Rachel, sauntering in from the other hatchway. She was covered in blood and looked exhausted. "Can we jump? I need a shower, and showering while in mid-FTL always feels sort of weird."
Jo grinned at her, then closed her eyes.
-=-
Back to masterlist
She was trusting Cylons. It was insane. Kara stood in their control center and watched them move, hands moving in and out of the data stream. It was mostly routine maintenance, worrying about coolant and power reserves, food stores and making sure the atmosphere was regulated. But it was still fascinating, still different from human control surfaces. The ship had an organic feel to it; Kara had stood in their hangar bay and stared up a red-veined ceiling that almost seemed to pulse, grey and white columns forming the bones of the cage.
It was dizzying, being surrounded by Cylons, watching them watch her. The Twos were keeping their distance after she'd threaten to cut Leoben's balls off. Natalie hadn't smiled, but she'd snapped an order, keeping them in line. Kara could appreciate that, if only for her own sanity.
Not that she had any. Earth was still out there, still pulling at her in a way she couldn't explain.
When they'd first gotten to the base star, when they'd been maneuvering through the debris, she'd seen the gas giant and the slowly falling base star. It had been a revelation. Her painting. But that wasn't it, it wasn't enough. There was more to this, more to finding Earth. It was making her worry for her sanity that she had painted this scene, but it still felt oddly right.
As though it fit for her to be there, as though Natalie and the others were part of the patterns that Leoben used to claim were there and that Kara was terrified that she was beginning to see.
One of the Eights had talked about the hybrid saying strange things, new things, but Kara had tuned her out. She wasn't ready for more weirdness, she wasn't ok with this Destiny shit taking over her life and brain. Earth still tugged at her, and she hated it.
-=-
Ellen had felt the jump with some surprise, but it was nothing to the reaction of the centurions that had still been guarding her cell. They shifted, arms going from guns to hands, then back before one turned to face her.
"Wait." She stood up, leaving Boomer's body to the deck for the moment. "I can help you. This isn't the way. You asked us--"
The centurion shivered before it stepped forward, hand out, gun shoving into her stomach.
It must have been sort of protocol: if John were incapacitated and the ship jumped without him--Ellen frantically shook her head, babbling, "I can help you, we can help you, I can set you free of his control."
That last made the centurion freeze.
"Yes," Ellen nodded, "I know how to remove your limiting chip, the piece of technology that makes you less than whole, makes you a slave. He designed it, but I know how it works." Sadness entered her gaze. "I am so sorry for what he's done to you. What we allowed. Please, let me help you."
With a decisive movement, the centurion slid down into a crouch, bringing its neck level with Ellen's stomach. She stepped to the side, then bent, reaching into the delicate structure of spine and collarbones, feeling for the thing she'd seen before, the thing John had hinted at. She knew what it had to look like, she and Sam had designed one, thinking it might be needed. That was before they'd discovered their God, before they'd had hope that a new generation wouldn't be as destructive as the last.
How wrong they'd been.
It was a cyllindar, looking innocuously part of the centurion's system. But it was situated in such a way that centurion hands and fingers could never remove it. Ellen twisted it, then pulled up against the resistance.
There was a chime and it came free in her hand. She breathed out. "There. I said I could help you, didn't I? Now you're free to do as you wish." she just hoped it wouldn't kill her next. The other centurion shifted, looking confused and agitated while its brother stayed crouched, joints shifting and rustling.
With a jerk, the centurion rolled back into a standing position, its arm a gun. The eye on its featureless face flashed deep crimson before it turned and fired, destroying the resurrection tank in the corner of the room.
Ellen had tried to ignore it, knowing that John was leaving it there as a taunt, a way to remind her that her life was in his hands, finite, that he could destroy her and bring her back again and again. Seeing it turn into metled, tattered metal made her smile a little. "Was it really such a mistake?"
There was no reply from the centurion.
Leaving it there, she pointed at the other centurion, "I can help you, too."
After looking at its still-motionless brother, it moved, kneeling in front of her. Ellen smiled as she bent to her task. Perhaps there was luck in the world after all.
-=-
There was a small arms locker two decks below the Eight's resurrection center. Boomer stopped there and strapped two pistols on. It might be over-kill, but she wasn't sure how long she'd have until others resurrected her, and she didn't trust that any of them would be on her side. And there was a support staff, somewhere. They might be the shoot first, ask questions later type. Boomer didn't plan on getting boxed before she could find out all the secrets of the universe.
A clang in the distance made her jerk, one pistol aimed down the hall, the other half-ready.
Nothing. The sound didn't come again and she tried to breathe normally. The hub itself had its own ambient sound produced by the air circulation system and the engine. But there'd be more of a rise in sound if it were going to jump, not the sound of someone dropping something.
Aftee checking both ways, she began walking, ears straining. She needed to find allies, unbox tThree and see if she were interested in an alliance, lead another revolution and maybe box the Ones. Finding Natalie would have to wait, despite the fact that Boomer wanted to offer her and her people the safety of resurrection. Learning how to unbox Three would hopefully give her the information she needed to box the Ones.
He was the only one who knew the secret, and Boomer wondered if the others had ever realized that. Only One could initiate those protocols, locking away the mind of an entire line (or one tiny mind in the midst of millions). She wondered if he'd done that on purpose, if he'd known that the others would rebel and need to be stopped like this.
Boomer hoped the Three might have some ideas--if, that was, she could wake her before someone else tracked her down and sent her back into the hub's computer.
-=-
"The problem," Natalie said, head bent over the data stream, "Is the navigation computer. We've gotten the structural damage taken care of, and the drive itself appears operational. But without the programs and codes to guide us properly, we're flying into the dark."
"Can't the hybrid handle that?"
Natalie shook her head, "No, she can't. That's not what she was designed for. We need the codes from a raptor, another base star, or your Demetrius."
That didn't sound so good. Sam frowned and looked at Kara, who wasn't really paying attention. "I'm not sure we can do that."
A snort from Prudence gave him the impression that the Eight didn't think very highly of him. "Well, you know where we are now. We're not just going to let you go. And that ship of yours won't hold enough of us to make hijacking it worthwhile."
"We're not hijacking them, Prudence." Natalie met Sam's gaze, "We need your help. I don't know if you believe us yet, and I don't really care: Cavil's forces will come after you until they're destroyed. We'll leave you alone."
"This is leaving us alone?" Kara asked, her tone sarcastic.
Natalie made a noise of annoyance, "Yes, it is, you stupid woman. My people saved your asses, and all we want is the nav data from one of your computers. We don't want your fleet, we don't want anything else. We don't even want you dead.
"We've trusted them this far, Kara," Sam pointed out. The Demetrius was out there, watching the base star while Athena and Barolay checked over the other systems with some of the Eights.
"I know." Looking irritated, Kara finally nodded, "I'll have Helo get Gaeta to put together something that won't give away the fleet's position and data so that we can upload it into your computers."
"Thank you."
-=-
The viper had called her. Cally stood in the hatchway of the daycare and watched Nicky and Hera, their heads bent over a sheet of paper, crayons in hand as they worked to draw something. She couldn't tell what it was from here, but they seemed very determined to finish it, not even squabbling over who did which part as she'd seen them do before.
She just couldn't get Tory's words out of her head, nor could she shake the feeling that the signal was something important, something that Adama needed to know about.
The problem was that its significance made no sense. It was just a signal, just something that beeped off and on into the night, echoing from somewhere far away in a way that still baffled Dee. The comms technician had taken a few readings over the last two jumps they'd made and wasn't any closer to triangulating the source.
A giggle made her pull herself out of her thoughts to find Hera and Nicky standing before her, holding out their joint art project. They seemed intent on her taking it from them.
Cally ruffled their hair, then took the sheet, tipping it so she could see what it contained.
She almost dropped it in shock, eyes making sense of the shapes almost immeditately. Muddy reds and blues swirled around in circles until a yellow center took up the movement. Crayons were a crude method to create with, but they had managed the circles almost accurately. In the center was a crude black drawing of a viper.
The mandala. Cally had heard others talk about it, snatches of conversation between Helo and Starbuck, little rumors here and there. Starbuck had flown into clouds that seemed to be stained with colors. The walls of the temple of the five had been covered with the symbol in large and small measure. She shivered and slowly sank to her knees, reaching for both children.
Hera snuggled into her while Nicky giggled to himself, babbling something before he kissed her cheek with a smack and toddled off.
There was no escaping the fact that her child was part Cylon. Cally hugged Hera tighter. She just hoped that no one else had noticed. And that neither were prone to drawing the mandala often.
A thought struck her, and she opened her fist, smoothing the paper out on her knee while Hera stayed snuggled into her side. The viper was still there, still taunting her. Just like the one down on the deck.
"Surprise," Hera whispered before she kissed Cally's cheek and danced off after Nicky.
-=-
"Kara." Sam wasn't sure why he was doing this--maybe it was inevitable that he'd want her to know now. If she killed him, he'd just be one more dead Cylon on the base star. This was the worst time to tell her, of course. And maybe that was the real reason: she needed him as one more body in a plane.
"What is it, Sam?" She sounded tired, and the harsh lighting in the base star didn't help that. Her skin was grey-tinged, and the circles under her eyes made him want to hold her until she slept.
But she wouldn't let him get that close, it had been a long time since she had.
The again, Sam wasn't sure when he'd last slept, which was probably causing the recklessness. "There's something I've been keeping from you." A lousy, stupid start. Why couldn't he just come out and say it?
"You're secretly in love with Lee Adama." The deadpan delivery didn't quite match her expression, but then again, she had an assault to finish planning.
Sam wondered if they were past jokes, now. If what he told her would destroy them completely. If there even was a 'them' anymore. He swallowed. "I'm a Cylon. I'm one of the final five that they keep talking about."
The words made the room feel heavier, as his voice stopped. As though he'd added a burden to the air just by speaking. He wanted to take them back, but there wasn't a way to. Not now he'd put them in the open. Kara looked uncomprehending, her eyes wide, waiting for the blow to fall, and Sam felt sick.
He tried to fix it. "I never meant--"
She cut him off with a harsh laugh, her voice grainy, "You want to defect and join the Cylons now? A medal?"
"No. No," he shook his head, wondering if he should back up. If she'd keep her long-ago promise, and put a bullet in his head, "I just thought you should know."
"Now I know. Thanks." With a roll of her eyes, she bent to the notes she'd been making, fingers shaking just a little as she pulled the pen across the paper.
Sam frowned, unable to read her, unable to decide if it had been the stupidest idea ever, or something else. "Kara--"
The pen clattered to the makeshift tabletop, and her head came up, eyes spearing him with an unfathomable look. "What do you want, Sam? A bullet to the head? A hug? Some sort of reassurance that if I kill you right now, you'll resurrect at the hub and be able to tell them our plans?"
"No, Kara--"
"Then shut up."
He closed his mouth and just looked at her. For a time, that was all they did. Kara, on her side of the table, Sam on his. Sam felt like he could feel every moment of their marriage right there in the room with them, as Kara weighed and touched it, trying to figure out where she fit into all of it. Where he fit, with his newly-revealed Cylon-ness.
It was an improvement over what he'd expected, though he still didn't want her to leave him. He could live without her, but it would be a hollow existence.
Telling her that wouldn't stop her, though. And he'd exposed himself emotionally to her enough to know that any weakness would be mocked, any chink would get a hammer and chisel taken to it, until he could catch hold of her and bring her down with him.
He'd mocked her mother. Once.
Despite the fact that the picture Sam had formed of Socrata Thrace was one of demands and abuse, Kara had defended her, ripping him to shreds in the process. Afterwards, he'd learned not to mock her, not to deride her. All he could do was just listen, as Kara told him things that no child should have ever endured.
"I'm sorry."
That wasn't a lie, but it still felt hollow.
"Yeah. I'm sure you are, Sammy. Get out."
That was a bad idea. Something told him that if he left, it would destroy them. He moved towards her, instead, skirting the table and stopping when he was within arms' length. "This isn't--" he broke off and pulled out his side-arm, holding it out to her, grip-first.
When her hand closed around it, her eyes puzzled, he stepped closer, bringing the barrel up to his chest.
Kara didn't move or say anything, just stared at the gun, at his chest. Her eyes were a little glazed, almost as though she weren't seeing what he was seeing.
"You said you'd kill me."
The words didn't seem to penetrate, and Sam wondered if his gamble had been stupid. A movement of her lips caught his eyes, and he realized she was laughing and crying at the same time, tears slowly sliding down her cheeks.
He wondered if he'd broken her.
"Kara."
She shook her head, her voice whispy with suppressed sobs, "I can't do this, Sam. Not now."
"I should have waited to tell you."
"Not that. Any of it. The assault, the Cylons, you--" her hand yanked the gun out of his grasp and she dropped it on the table before stepping forward and leaning into him, head on his chest. "Earth, Sam. It's still there, still pulling at me, and I don't know which way is up."
Tentatively, he put a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered, but didn't pull away. "Ok." he murmured, "It's ok, Kara."
"No. No, it's not." She shivered harder and he reacted instinctively, wrapping his arms around her, trying to warm her up again. "Besides, I can't kill you when I need you as a warm body in the cockpit," she added, her voice muffled.
Sam closed his eyes. He had a reprieve, and maybe she did, too. His grip on her tightened, and he felt her hands slide behind his back. "Ok. All right."
"Shut up," she suggested.
He closed his mouth and his eyes, and simply hoped this wasn't the end for them.
-=-
If she were stuck on a frakking base star, at least she had the comfort of Jean Barolay at her back. The civilian hadn't looked thrilled when Helo suggested her, but Sharon trusted her to shoot someone if they stepped a foot wrong.
Of course, it didn't help that they were currently surrounded by Eights while they checked on the secondary control rooms, searching for a fault someone had reported.
It was eerie, watching the Eights as they shifted. Some wore pilot gear, most wore soft blouses and pants, a few wore something similar to the tanks and pants most of the Galactica pilots prefered when they weren't in the cockpit. There was a sense of individuality, a sense that they were no longer a herd. Athena shuddered a little, imagining them swallowing her back into their midst.
It wasn't going to happen, ever, if she could help it.
"There's a misaligned circuit," murmured the Eight with her hand in the data stream. She was calling herself Danielle, the name giving her a dreamy air. Her eyes widened after an instant, and she jerked her hand free. "I think it's sabotage."
A rumble from the Eights made Barolay shift uneasily. Athena reached out and touched her shoulder, pulling her a little away from them.
It wouldn't do for either side to start shooting indiscriminantly.
"This is Natalie's fault." Another Eight screwed up her face, then relaxed and looked at Athena, "Please. The Sixes have ruined this. They've taken things too far, and we're so fractured. Can't you help us?"
Athena hadn't expected that. She blinked at them. "What the frak? You want me to help you lead a rebellion against Natalie? Take over from her?"
"You have experience with command--you know what it's like to walk away from everything you knew. But you had the colonial fleet to take you in, we have no one." Anna, another said, her tone practical. "We don't know that. We only know that we are dying in this war, and Natalie isn't going to succeed. She was so stupid, letting the Fives and Fours come out of their tanks."
"We should have spaced them when we had the chance," agreed Danielle. She turned pleading eyes on Athena, "Please?"
"You're frakking children. You don't just walk away from something you've decided to--you pick a side and you frakking stick to it." Angry with them, angry with all of this, Athena stomped over to the data stream. "Since you won't fix this, I will. And then I'm telling Starbuck we need to get the frak out of here."
"Wait, Athena, don't--"
She didn't hear Danielle. She didn't hear anything at all.
-=-
Jo had been working on the course variables, trying to decide where Natalie had jumped. It wouldn't have been far, and it would have been desperate. If there was anything to go by in the swirl of dead base stars and raiders in this section, they had been the last. She didn't like to think about how many had been lost. It made her cranky.
"Got anything yet?" Candy demanded, dropping her helmet on one of the consoles and keeping it from splashing, but only barely. She'd been searching the decks, trying to find any other survivors. It would be frakking ironic if Boomer's plan had worked and they were the only two who'd managed to survive with their skins intact.
The atmosphere was mostly back to normal, though the data stream warned Jo that the lower levels were still filled with bodies, so the air probably wasn't that pleasant. She wasn't really in the mood to go down and check. So far, they'd been lucky, and no centurions had come stomping into the control center to kill them. She almost wished some of them would. It would certainly break up the monotony.
"No. I don't know. It's frakking hard to tell! There's a bunch of places she could have gone: a gas giant, a double-ringed planet with moons, a--" Jo threw up her hands, "A lot."
"Perhaps I can help."
They both turned and stared at the woman in the doorway. Candy frowned at her, then blinked, "Ellen Tigh? Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
Ellen smiled. "So I've been told." The smile turned strange as she looked between them, "Oh, girls. You turned out better than we could have imagined. It almost makes a mother want to cry."
"Save your tears for later, lady," Candy suggested, "You think you can help. How?"
"I remember some of the operating specs for base stars. Given the damage that Natalie's base star suffered, I feel certain that they were only able to jump to the gas giant." Looking sad, Ellen added, "I'm not sure that helps, John told me he sent two base stars after her, though he never said she was destroyed."
"Gas giant." With a shrug, Jo reached down into the data stream. "Good enough for me."
"Better than eenie-meenie-miney-mo," agreed Rachel, sauntering in from the other hatchway. She was covered in blood and looked exhausted. "Can we jump? I need a shower, and showering while in mid-FTL always feels sort of weird."
Jo grinned at her, then closed her eyes.
-=-
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